Tom Akin

            George and I have been chasing turkeys for many years.  Most years, we only get a couple days to try to seal the deal for turkey.  George moved several years ago to the southwest part of Colorado, a beautiful area with far less people than the Front Range near Denver where I live.  This part of Colorado has unsurpassed opportunities for the outdoorsman.  It also happens to be an over-the-counter tag for Spring turkey, with vast stretches of public land.  In Colorado, the Spring turkey season starts in mid-May.  It is an amazing time of year in the Rocky Mountains.

We always look forward to this hunt for many reasons other than turkey hunting.  At this time of year, the mountains are still cloaked with snow, but the blue-winged olives and caddis flies are stirring the fish in the rivers.  The valleys are green and brown (brown from the herds of elk and deer trying to recover from winter).  Sometimes I load the skis, mountain bike, fly rod, and shotgun into the truck for this trip.  However, the best part of the trip is recalling past memories from our countless elk and turkey hunts.  I was also anxious to see the 6×6 bull elk George bagged the previous Fall.  He shot the bull on a mountain at 11,000 feet with a muzzleloader within a week of his 68^th birthday!

            George and I have had several encounters with turkeys but neither one of us have taken a shot at a bird.  We’ve had many shots at hens, but we are not permitted to harvest hens in the Spring.  As many years prior, we were hoping this year would be different.  One thing I love about George, other than being a fun hunting buddy, is his propensity to accumulate all the “necessary” tools for a successful hunt.  I call his garage the Sport’s Emporium, and he has two of everything.  This includes decoys, calls, shelters, camo wear, backpacks, tree stands, ATVs, and the list goes on (except for a working alarm clock on some mornings).

We only had two mornings to hunt on this trip.  The first morning in the woods showed some promise.  We heard gobbles relatively close, but we were unable to call any birds within eyesight.  We also heard one shot behind us at daybreak.  I joked with George that I don’t understand it.  We have decoys, turkey calls, camo gear, and turkeys but we are not successful.  How can this be?  It’s the way it’s always been!  But, I was still optimistic we would change that.  George on the other hand seemed less optimistic.  Most of his local friends had already bagged their bird on private land.  Also, George hadn’t practiced with the turkey call so he questioned his abilities.  We both knew turkeys were here, but we also knew this public land got hunting pressure and the birds were wise.  The mid-day hunt had similar results.  As usual, we saw our share of elk and deer which is always a great consolation. 

After attending a neighbor’s party that night, the following morning started in the wrong direction.  I awoke at 4 AM with a slight hangover, but George was not stirring.  I waited 15 minutes past our agreed departure time of 4:30 AM and figured he had too much to drink the night before.  I decided to depart on my own and let Sleeping Beauty rest with his wife.  After 15 minutes of driving, George called me so I pulled over to wait for him.  Evidently, he forgot to set his alarm clock.  As he arrived, I asked if we should drop the ATV trailer so we could make up some time.  George wanted the ATV so we could cover more ground.  I agreed.

We went back to same area but the woods were quiet.  The previous morning, the birds made noise for about 30 minutes after sunrise and then they shut up.  I was thinking we had missed our window of opportunity.  We attempted several setups with no response.  After a snack and some deliberation, we decided to cover some ground with the ATV.  Either way, it was a beautiful morning for a spin through the woods checking out elk and deer with intermittent views of the San Juan Mountains.  We stopped at a few locations to call but were not answered by any turkeys. 

As the morning approached 10 AM, we found ourselves in a stand of large ponderosas and oak brush where we had seen hunters the previous morning.  We decided to park the ATV and do some calling.  There were no answers, so we continued to relive past hunting trips and George took the opportunity to tell me about his elk hunt.  After some more snacks and failed attempts at stirring up any birds, we were within minutes of calling it the day to get lunch so I could start my 5 hour drive back to Denver.  Just then as we are talking to each other:

George: Did you hear that gobble?

Me: No. What did you hear?

George: I heard a turkey talk over in that direction (pointing).

Me: Nope, I didn’t hear it. But I’ll try a gobble.

I shake the gobble call, and instantly I hear a gobble in response.

Me: Did you hear that gobble?

George: No. I didn’t hear a gobble. What direction?

Me: You didn’t hear a gobble? Are you kidding me??

George: No.

Me: That direction (laughing and pointing 180 degrees the other direction)

We uncase our guns from the ATV, and leave our packs and decoys.  Since we are both on the same page (or something like that), we agree to go in different directions!  George angles toward the bird I don’t think exists.  I go toward the bird that George doesn’t think exists.  I tell George I will not make any turkey calls, but he is free to do what he wants (even if that involves hearing bird sounds that don’t exist).

As I’m making my way through the ponderosas, I continue to laugh at our antics and hope one of us heard right.  Then I hear a turkey yelp.  Wow, that was a loud yelp!  Maybe that yelp was a hunter?  I swear that was in the same direction as the gobble but now I’m questioning myself.  Was that a turkey?  Was that George?  No, George went in a different direction.  My head is spinning.

Whatever yelped was very close, so I hunker down behind an uprooted tree.  I get on my knees with the shotgun on my shoulder and the barrel on a rest to free up one hand in case I need to call.  The shotgun is pointing down the length of the fallen tree that has made a nice shooting lane toward the yelp.  Just to the right of the shooting lane I see a bird coming toward me through the oak brush so I prepare for a shot.  Seconds later, the bird raises its head above a mound just 25 yards away but to the right.  I notice it’s a tom, and it is offering a perfect shot.  However, the bird is looking right toward me so I remain motionless…..hoping the bird moves left or George hits his call.  Not knowing a bird is in the vicinity, George hits his call and the tom immediately takes an interest and crosses to the left where my shotgun is aimed.  I squeeze the trigger, and the bird piles up!  Another perfectly planned hunt!

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