I'm ready for spring, because spring means summer is just around the corner, and summer means a wedding and a honeymoon spent halibut fishing in Alaska. I can't wait to get out on the water and try some serious sea fishing for the big, ugly, bottom-dwelling white fish.
Of course, I pretty much want to try everything outdoor related, from hunting javelinas in Texas to fishing for marlin off the coast of Florida. Maybe I've watched too many outdoor shows, but there isn't much I don't want to try at least once in my lifetime. So hunting turkeys seems like a logical aspiration, considering you can find them here in Wyoming, the license fee is reasonable and it's something to entertain me until July gets here and it's time to hook some halibut.
There's just one problem.
To be an effective turkey hunter, you have to be quiet. And you have to sit still for long periods of time.
Make that two problems.
There's the rub. I can't be quiet. In high school, my teacher once told me that God only gives us a certain number of words to use in our lifetimes and at the rate I was going, I'd be mute by the time I was out of college. I've grown out of the need to chatter incessantly, but I still can't be quiet for very long. My brain keeps on plugging away, even if my mouth isn't moving, and before long, I've got a thought in my head that I just HAVE to share. It's like a sneeze, I can't hold it in.
A wild turkey's senses are extremely keen. Its eyesight and hearing are amazing. There's an expression I've heard from many long time turkey hunters - if a turkey could smell, you'd never kill one. Turkeys will flee at the first hint of danger. One cough, a slight shifting of your weight and there goes dinner.
All the turkey hunting tips that I've read say your best bet is to zero in on some turkeys, then get set up in the open and call the turkeys to you. Ron Eakes, a wildlife biologist in Alabama, offered this piece of advice for beginning turkey hunters in an article I read recently.
"Sit against a tree, stump or other object that is wider than your back and taller than your head. It will hide your outline and protect your back from a hunter who might move in behind you. Face the turkey's direction with your left shoulder (for right-handed shooters), this provides you with a greater mobility of your gun when aiming. Above all, be quiet and keep your movement to a minimum as you call. If the gobbler is working toward you, then goes silent, don't move. Sometimes gobblers will sneak in quietly."
Even when I'm not talking, I'm making noise. Antelope hunting last fall is an excellent case in point. We belly crawled for about 20 yards to get in position on a nice buck in southeast Wyoming. The buck was traveling right to left and in a few minutes, he'd be in a perfect position for one of my companions to take a shot. I hunkered low to the ground, careful to stay behind Michael and Wendy. I inhaled deeply, catching my breath. Soon, my eyes started watering and the urge to cough overwhelmed me. Within minutes, I was in an all-out hacking fit, wheezing and drooling like a dog gone mad. It took me ten minutes to stop coughing or clearing my throat. The buck got away and I found out that I'm allergic to sagebrush.
And it's not just allergies. I hiccup, my stomach rumbles or I to step on and crack the only branch within miles, scaring birds and any other critter in the vicinity away. If a turkey has keen hearing AND vision, I'm toast.
"If you were a predator, you would starve to death," a good friend told me when I bemoaned my bad luck. "You can't sit still to save your life. You fidget like a fart in a skillet."
While I've never particularly understood that expression, it still stung a little. I'm not a child, I know the importance of staying motionless, and I told him so.
"Tell tell you what," he said. "Find a comfortable position and just sit there. I'll time you. If you make it for even ten minutes without moving, I'll take you turkey hunting."
I lasted exactly four minutes and twenty-two seconds. Maybe I can serve halibut at Thanksgiving.
