April 23, 2023: The annual turkey quest started off with an evening hunt along the route to my normal stomping grounds. This is a spot along a highway that I know sees copious hunting pressure but the landscape is full of fun rock features that make the futility worth it. I left the truck at 5:50pm and to my shock, was talking to a tom by 6:10pm. I was stuck on top of one of the rocks but I snuggled down beside some branches and waited to see if he would make an appearance.
Without any further communications, I could hear his spitting/strumming coming straight to me from behind the clump of trees on the right of the picture above but then he turned and headed into the open, sunny area at 80 yards. By that point he had gone from proud strutting to slinking away so he either saw some movement or realized no self respecting hen would be lounging up in the rocks. I would have much rather had one turkey in the cooler but it was a promising start and there was still daylight!
I looped through the parcel but didn't kick up any further gobbles and decided to try the parcel across the road. No turkeys were responding but I did find a couple curiosities (scroll further with caution). Not sure what this first one is beyond feline but maybe a younger bobcat or a very feral house cat very far from home? While I was trying to figure that out, I found the turkey egg just as you see it, presumably carried there by the bird that slurped half of the contents?
Then both mysteries were blasted from my brain by the thunderous gobbles of a tom just over the hill. Unfortunately, he was also just over the boundary onto private land and probably had already settled into his roosting tree. He was content to let me get as much call and response video as I wanted but never budged. I had to leave him be and head back to the truck. To cap off what was already a jam packed evening, at least one more tom had roosted right along the highway and also felt extra chatty while sitting safely out of range of predators. I should have followed the golden rule of hunting (not leaving your prey to find prey) but instead I stuck to the itinerary and used the darkness to drive another couple hours east.
April 24th, 2023: It seemed like the hunting gods were ok with me violating their cardinal rule as the morning brought the good kind of dilemma. I could hear a tom both to my north and south. The southern bird would need to be called across a road (which had worked from this exact spot two years ago, before I missed the shot) but I fancied my chances on the northern bird. He kept up his calling for about an hour but always moving away from me, clearly being pulled along by his flock or at least a real hen.
After that 2 hour, multi-mile loop chasing tail feathers, I returned to the vicinity of the truck to find that the southern gobbler had moved all of 50 yards to the west. I snuggled under a tree and kept the conversation going but he didn't care enough to cross the road. That lasted until an unforcasted rainstorm came through and sent us all scurrying for cover.
With the birds hunkering down, it was a great time for guilt free scouting. In this area, that is primarily trying to reach isolated public land at the end of timber roads. Often the road petters out, turns private, or is blocked by a burned out mobile home (i.e. failed meth kitchen), etc. I did see one hen crossing a road but otherwise only a few mushrooms to catch the eye. The big bummer was I arrived too early in the season to find morels at these higher elevations.
It took until 4:15pm before hearing another turkey. This guy was far enough away that I couldn't tell which side of an uncrossable creek he happened to be camped on. I dropped down the ridge just far enough to confirm I couldn't reach him and then turned around and jogged all the way backed to the truck (exercise of this sort is not something I associate with successful turkey hunting). An hour had passed by the time I got back into the woods on the right side of the creek but he was still in the area. As I snuck in towards him it became apparent that his flock was working back onto private land for the night. I had gotten to within maybe 60 yards without being able to see any of the birds but it was a very interesting calling sequence. The hens clearly had an idea of where they were heading and didn't want a random, deranged sounding hen to lead the group astray. Every time I started a call sequence, they would immediately jump in with loud, aggressive cutting sounds to silence me. In that situation I know I'm supposed to match their anger so they come running to beat me into submission but I didn't know how to make that sound on any of my calls (I also have a pot call but I can't even manage a turkey sound with it so it didn't make the picture in protest).
I let them drift off so I could safely sneak through a brushy draw and try calling them back into range from more open timber. Not sure why but that shift in location brought back some of the birds but the tom stayed up above in a little clearing on private land. Luckily for me, a jake didn't have the same knack for self preservation and wandered in almost too close while I was holding out hope for the boss tom. Because it was so close, the shot caused a near decapitation (but quick death). Instead of grossing anyone out with that picture, I'll share his crop contents instead! This early in the year meant a full vegan diet, no bugs, lizards, etc to sustain these little dinosaurs until warmer weather kicks off.
With hopes of filling my second tag, I pointed the truck back towards the west. On the way up and down the pass, I was happy to see hens every couple miles but no red heads to convince me to stick to the mountains.
April 25th, 2023: Sunrise overlooking Lake Roosevelt is always a good start to a day. The fact that I had followed a gobbler up to this point made it even better. Similar to the day before, nothing I had to say could convince him to leave his ladies or even wait for me to catch up. From following a tom around in that area the year before, I decided to leave him to his business and head further away from the roads.
About when I got to the edge of my explorations of last year I rapidly moved from seeing lots of turkey feeding sign and hearing distant gobbles to being inside a triangle of much nearer toms. I couldn't see any of them and they sounded equidistant but I decided to head downhill towards the one nearest the lake, figuring the lake would at least limit its ability to slink away in that direction. Everything seemed to be falling into place as I got close enough to hear the hens talking amongst themselves and then BAM BAM... followed by the sounds of pellets whizzing through the brush. Fortunately, the hunter must have been firing from off to one side of the flock's travel because nothing came my way. Unfortunately, he also missed his turkey as I saw him walking out a couple minutes later with a slumped, shuffling gate that I'm sure I've modeled in the past.
With three flocks simultaneously spooked by those shots, I knew it was time to walk a few miles even further away from the roads before trying to call in some birds. That brought me to my first morel of the season but despite ever widening circles, I never found a second. Possibly found some puffballs as well but not confident enough to give them a try.
The new area held lots of deer and turkeys but I was definitely too focused on exploring. Its never good when you don't spot turkeys until they are running or flying away. Instead of taking the hint to grab a nap under a tree or slow down, I kept on walking and blew a brilliant change to bag a lead tom. I had just finished listening for responses to one of my call sequences and was walking up and out of the woods to an upper meadow when I came to face to face with said tom, out in front of his flock. They were all frozen in shock for a "couple seconds" where I might have had a chance if my hands weren't fiddling with my box call but instead I just got to watch them all run away.
So started my own dejected walk back to the truck. From there I did a couple hours of scouting other public lands further uphill from the lake but didn't find anything promising.
The evening hunt was a return to the morning's overlook but the birds weren't about to forgive getting shot at and I didn't hear a peep until the last 30 minutes of shooting light when two different toms convinced me to start jogging in their direction. Alas, I was too slow and the tom I tried to sneak in on was already up in a tree and picked me out easily before gliding away. A real turkey hunter would have stopped a couple hundred yards away, just to get a decent read on what tree he was in (or might use) and then retreat to sneak back in the dark and set up to entice him when he flew down in the morning. Sounds great in practice but even on reflection, I don't know if I could sign up for dragging myself up steep hills in 4am darkness without a headlamp...
April 26th, 2023: The next morning found me partway home, hoping to make something happen out in the flats where I knew I had left at least three toms. Right away I was talking to some birds but they were making circles in the sage and then disappearing over the rocks and down into the draws. I felt pretty silly covering the same ground over and over again but when I settled down in an old blind it was just a few minutes before a coyote celebration kicked off right near the turkeys and they bailed on our little game. So I got back to wandering and found a second blind... At that point it really sunk in that the birds that survive this gauntlet are pretty crafty.
By 8:30am I hadn't heard anything for an hour so I headed across the road to check if the tom from three nights ago was still in the area. Turned out he was lurking back there and was still willing to chat but he only confirmed his impressive comprehension of private vs public property and I tipped my hat and headed home.
P.S. - On the way back over Snoqualmie Pass I passed this forlorn locomotive. Turns out it was the Great Northern Railroad Locomotive 1246 which was built in 1907 and worked in the Northwest (B&W photo below shows it crossing the Ballard rail bridge just below the locks). It had been displayed at Seattle's zoo after its retirement before being auctioned off to a private collector in Oregon (he passed away in 2021 with 14 locomotives in his collection). The steam locomotive will now reside at the Northwest Railway Museum in Snoqualmie, WA and hopefully get a much deserved rebuild.
P.P.S. - The one turkey I got was very tasty as expected from a young bird. In my early twenties I tried roasting these birds whole like a farm raised turkey but that was always a little disappointing. This round I grilled the breasts, simmered the legs/wings and shredded for a bbq type meal, and in a first, used the bones to make my own turkey stock.
P.P.P.S. - I did make a day trip on May 15th for one more half hearted attempt to bag a turkey near our property but never heard or saw a bird. It might have been because I spent a lot of time near creeks and rivers to find cottonwoods and then to look below them for morels.
On the mushroom front it was a partial success - I did find black morels (2) and half morels (1).... Not a great return on 6 hours of driving.