Chelan County is not known as a turkey hunting destination but I have seen just enough of them to hold out hope that one tom would get lost and wander onto the property for the spring season. I was feeling even better about my chances with a few gobblers roosting behind our Airbnb and getting into a pretty intense argument with the neighbor's yippy dog.
So that mystery was solved but then I quit thinking about turkeys completely when I spotted a larger group of elk browsing their way into the national forest. As I started dropping towards them, I noticed four more elk back behind me. Its only been an hour since I left the car but I had found nirvana. So began my attempt to play paparazzi on the Colockum elk herd.
That probably would have been the agenda for the rest of the morning but then I heard a gobbler go off in the distance. I tried skirting the elk but there were too many eyes and ears on alert and they stampeded in exactly the wrong direction. My mismatched camo might work on a bird brain but that is about the limit.
After the elk cleared out I was never able to get a conversation going with the gobbler (two more hours of circling in the national forest). I could only conclude that he had been tragically crushed by a sprinting elk.
While no turkeys wanted to chat, there were still more elk to flush and the ever present drumming of grouse. I also found ample evidence that the bears were awake but most of it is not suitable for sharing. Oddly no sign of deer but likely they had not migrated up to these elevations from their winter range.
I did spot one turkey on the drive back down the mountain but she knew that fall is the only time for her to worry. We chatted for awhile just to confirm I was still making turkeyish sounds. Both times she was surprised to make it back onto the road and see a humanoid.
The rest of the day was dedicated to playing with the little man and his 20 month old twin buddies (minus the scouting drive that night on a very sketchy road where predecessors undercarriages had left tracks on every water bar but the wife often serves double duty as the photographer and editor so I'll not incriminate myself further).
Sunday was a pretty similar story minus the elk. I started the hunt at my best guess on where the tom might have been roosting on Saturday and practiced deploying my new decoy while waiting for a response.
Suspiciously when the gobbles started up they were almost exactly at 7am again and to the roadside of my location which leads me to suspect that another hunter was a late riser but trying locate calls from his truck... On the other hand, he was good enough at it to fool me. Once I realized my mistake I put the gun away and tried to make myself useful by hanging no trespassing signs and finally climbing to the highest point on the property. The trees are too thick to see the mountains but the meadow view is pretty good and that direction is going to make a great frisbee golf tee shot.
That morning we got to share the land with the twins and their pack horses. After the picnic and our friends had headed home, I bored my family to tears with the details of the timber management chores that are on the agenda but it was fun to walk the snowshoe route and realize how we had been cruising right over the top of the brush and boulders.
Now its been a full week since I smelled the mountain air and all I can think about is how quickly are those elk antlers growing, when will I get to see one of the bears, will the turkeys be migrating up with the deer, and how many firs and pines can I thin out with my new machete before I knock a hole in my shin?