Talking Turkey, Part II

In a previous post I extolled the virtues of turkey season over other game seasons mostly on the basis of being able to gear-up completely without the depressingly un-sneaky blaze orange. I also bring up the challenge of hunting mountain Merriam's with the following passage:

The Merriam's turkey that we have in the Colorado mountains is a wily prey. Their eyesight is extremely good, their hearing is sharp and we are only helped by their lack of a keen sense of smell. Additionally, they are very sensitive to hunting pressure and though not intelligent, are instinctively suspicious. When you consider these traits and the fact that they are physically tough and nearly impervious to shots outside of 40 yards (sometimes inside this distance as well), it is not surprising that as we enter my 4th spring turkey season, I have yet to be successful.

And that was true until this past Saturday at roughly 9am. Hunting with Marshall (and wish Timmy could have joined us) we had hiked about 4 mountainous miles when our joking brought out a gobble from a moderately distant hillside. I must be honest and say that with my lips flapping, I did not hear the first call. We waited silently and heard a follow-up gobble. Quickly we geared back up (we were mostly out of our overly-warm outer camo layers) and crept up to the crest of the hill to sit under 2 trees roughly 20 years apart. Marshall had earlier told me that he wanted me to have first shot so he was calling and I was patiently waiting to see if the strutter would come closer and from what direction. A long story made short, through MP's aggressive and realistic calling, 2 gobblers traveled upwards of a mile over steep terrain to get at the foxy hen they were hearing. I took the first with one mystery shot (even after processing the animal we were unable to discover how I killed it) and after slight panic, Marshall took the second with 4 shots (it was a dead turkey walking after the 2nd, but we didn't really know how to deal with its ability to stay on its feet).

It was no more than 6-7 minutes between our successes - meaning Marshall's was pretty close at the time I fired - which is completely contrary to what we understood about turkeys wily nature (see excerpt above). It was one the coolest feeling to finally be a turkey hunter (vs. someone who hikes with a turkey gun), made that much more special because I got share it with Marshall. We tossed the big birds on our backs and hiked the grueling 3+ miles out to the truck.

I know not all of you are excited to see dead animals and are not big fans of hunting so I apologize for the slightly gory picture: it was the best photo I have of both birds.