The progression of the annual spring turkey season in Ontario certainly allows for continuous adaptation of your surrounds, as well treats hunters to Mother Natures freshest work, rebuilding the landscape of our Canadian Outdoors.
This season we enjoyed unseasonable warm weather to kick off the game. It was followed up by wet and at times, snowy mornings. As the hunt progressed into the remaining season we again experienced warm sunny afternoons and even extreme heat for a few days. Of course, the last day of turkey season appeared in true opposing fashion to the first. A sunken day lined with Grey clouds and a meek climate. It was almost though setting the mood to conclude an epic movie, evoking an “adios friend†emotion, sending off a partner whom you shared so much adventure and surprise.
On opening morning I had the opportunity to free up some much deserved personal time. By trade I’m a Commercial Air conditioning and Heating Technician. This time of year is very busy for me, but certainly not busy enough that I would miss day 1.
For the entire month of April, I had scouted birds all over the various properties that I hunt. I was excited to see so many Toms strutting around, and of those, one bird had caught my interest. He visually appeared larger, and very aggressive.
I had initially set up on him at the end of a huge corn field where he seemed to frequent the past mornings. I had lain out a set of hens and mature Tom decoy about 35 yards away from a little thicket I was using to hide within.
As the day broke the first hair raising bark of a roosting Tom echoed through the budding maples and remaining corn stalks. That noise is undeniably one of the most exciting and unique audio's any hunter will ever experience. It generates feelings of hope, it induces focus, and prepares your instincts as a predator to be ready.
As the sun rose, my phones alarm vibrated in my pocket signaling legal shooting time. It also signaled that it was time to pick a fight with the boss turkey!
I responded to those first drifting calls with some soft hen yelps and some clucking. I waited for the un-roosting and anticipated seeing the majestic decent of the turkey as it glided out into the field. All was to perfect. That is of coarse pending the king made his appearance.
The sun ascended and coaxed to the field with its warm rays some feeding hens, as well a trio of Jakes which skirted the perimeter of my plastic turkey family. I was also surprised to be approached by a couple of deer that eventually filtered past my ambush. But no sign seen or heard of the big boy, not since the first few daybreak gobbles.
Though frowned upon by many turkey enthusiasts, I chose to get a location on the hiding Tom with the dreaded "gobble call". This call has been very effective in locating birds for me in the past, and I seen no reason not to grab hold and give it a good shake.
Almost instantly, a faint response was transmitted back through the maple hollow. "How far away was that bird?" I asked myself, at the same time calculating a stealthy approach plan to give me a shooters chance.
Going for it, I slowly I gained ground, cognitive of the fact that even though I was on private property, there were no guarantees of trespassers. With safety always relevant, I approached within an estimated 200 yards and set up shop.
45 minutes of name calling back and forth had appeared to finally get on my adversary's nerves. With a steady sequence of gobbles, he made his way through the forest and to the edge of the corn field. All at once, 75 yards from my foxhole, burst from the undergrowth a plume of feathers.
In full display, the massive turkey I dreamed about for countless nights previous, erupted in a primal display of dominance and testosterone filled rage. He sighted my mannequin turkey and committed to a full scale assault on the interloper. Approaching quickly he fanned and displayed to the turkey model, attempting to outdo his man made foe. In doing so he lost his air of caution which allowed me to shoulder my Benelli Super Nova and sight the optics electronic aim point on his upper neck. Allowing him a last moment of glory, he displayed one more time for this earth to see, just before the 3.5 inch magnum shot load sent him to the heavenly pasture of dead turkeys.
That bird was a 22 pounder with an outstanding two tone gray/black beard. A personal best that will taste excellent as Kiev served with fresh steamed garden produce.
The remainder of the season graced me with another large 22 pound bird. Though no disrespect is intended to this bird, I chose not to incorporate his deceased pics. This fellow was hit very hard, decapitating him partly and clevering off most of his fan, as he was displaying when his clock timed out. A fine bird, whom will be enjoyed as turkey burger with a hint of dill.
With both my tags filled, I was now obligated to focus on my guiding efforts. I have few clients who request farmland turkey hunting as most usually prefer a day on the water bass fishing with me. But I try to facilitate any legal outlet for outdoors adventure that falls within my scope of experience.
Of those clients was an enthusiastic chap whom I had the pleasure of successfully guiding his first turkey hunt last season. On the last day he and I had discussed holding out for a mature bird, but he assured me that with time dwindling, he would enjoy taking any legal turkey. He did just that, and proudly obtained a sizable Jake.
This season he proposed with strong intention, that he would like to achieve his goal of taking a mature Tom turkey.
We set out to the pastures of the Ottawa Valley with high hopes and a lofty milestone in mind.
In taking up cover aside a shade patch of scrub brush we set out a series of decoys in hopes of attracting some afternoon feeding toms from a newly planted corn field.
The first series of calls was responded to by an unearthly scream! “What the hell was that?†he whispered. Thinking for a minute I told him that it was a Peacock. Chuckling he resumed watch of the pasture and awaited any incoming birds.
Minutes later I see him excitedly fidgeting with his camera. He turns a gasp and says to me †SOB….it is a Peacock!â€
Sure enough a beautiful blue headed male peacock marched right into the spread and proceeded to romance the hen decoys, all the while starring boldly at the Tom decoy daring him to make a move.
I asked my client if he would like to harvest this bird, as there is no season on domestic or exotic animals. But he declined and enjoyed the opportunity to snap some great pictures.
We did not see a Tom that day, but I had received some critical Intel from my wife via BBM, reading that my local properties were infested with cackling turkeys. May I quote her as saying, “those damn turkeys woke me up this morning, I had to shut the windows because they would not stop gobblingâ€
Needless to say, that information solidified day two’s planning, and essentially fated a turkey to the roast pan.
My Client and I met in my driveway at 4am for coffee and debriefing. We suited up, and through the dark we marched slowly to a clear cut adjacent to a soybean field. The day broke and with it also broke the morning silence. In the gray morning dampness conjured up from the Mississippi River, we counted at least 8 different gobblers calling back and forth from their roost.
Gobbling back we received a volley of responses from the east, and one very distant response from the west. Over the next half an hour the calls died off as the birds made their way out to feed. But that distant westerly gobbler still kept up his efforts verbally harassing our stand. Thinking that the distance between us was too great for this bird to commit, I wrote him off and continued to focus on the earlier roosting birds to the east. Shockingly, minutes later that west end bird responded to the “gobble call†in which I had fired up to spark some call backs. But this time he was much closer and certainly interested in finding out who was strutting where and why was there another turkey in HIS pasture?
He would soon find out. Within minutes that bird covered over 800 yards to our location and hung up 50 yards out at the bottom of a gully. A few chirps and soft cackles was all it took to persuade the big Tom to close in on the decoys. He strutted in making no attempt to hide his profile, obviously oblivious to our ploy of impersonating a promiscuous girl turkey.
My client was smooth with the tool and proceeded to wait until the perfect shot was in place. He calmly squeezed off some well placed thunder at about 15 yards and concluded this turkey’s lease on life. In doing so, he also achieved a long time personal goal of having a mature Tom come into the decoys for harvest. “The purest way†my customer calls it.
Congratulations P.
As all good things must come to an end, the eventual last day of the season was here. I found myself guiding an experienced turkey hunter whom had little time to hunt this year and had yet to harvest a bird.
We agreed to meet at my home at 4am to discuss our game plan. I had explained to him that in the days prior, I had located some birds roosting on a hardwood ridge. I excitedly detailed our directives in hopes of putting ourselves into prime location before the sun was up.
Making way, we found a corner in a little pasture that had all the right elements. We set up our plastic party hens and hunkered down.
Everything appeared well. The daylight was slightly obscured with late breaking cloud cover. There were birds gobbling, and there was no wind to speak of.
In the distance we noticed movement along an old cedar rail fence. To our immediate appreciation of this sighting, a large doe proceed to approach us. We soon found that this deer was up to no good. She simply stood 60 yards away and stomped her hoof, snort wheezed, and pranced back and forth looking in our direction. We considered attempting to scare her away, but that would have exposed our rouse to any incoming unseen turkeys, so there we sat, motionless, and watched the doe throw a fit over our proximity.
The morning hours seemed to whiz by. On the last day, time always appears to pass a little faster. We decided to pull up anchor and make a bold move into the maple bush that lay ahead. Without any notably interested turkeys coming to our stand, we opted to “walk and gobble†looking for a rube.
All this strategy yielded was a thorough bush push and the spooking of any remaining birds near by. We had arrived at the property line with out any luck and disheveled. My client looked at me and said in a disappointed tone “I guess this is it for this year?â€
Not one to give up; I said to him “Wait here, while I check the next pastureâ€. Almost as if the turkey gods were playing a cruel joke, their just on the other side of the fence and on private property were 3 toms strutting for some hens in an old corn field.
We set up and made several calls, but there was no way we cut those Toms away from the live hens. We contemplated our options and admittedly, the situation looked bleak, all we could do was wait and hope.
Then a crazy idea hit me! I remember from years past when I had walked over to the pasture on the property line, similarly to what we had just done, the turkeys that day which had been in the corn patch seen me and spooked. They ran the length of the field and under a low spot in the fence……Our fence leading on to our property!
My client and I edged the pasture some 200 yards and entered the depression to where the low spot in the fence lay. I placed him within the deadly range of a shotgun near the fence row where the turkeys were suspected to climb over.
Leaving him there, I walked backed to where I had first seen the turkeys just over the fence. I approached the property line slowly but deliberately. Not making any attempt to conceal my presence. When I crested the small knoll and my profile was very visible the turkeys in the field next door perked up and made a mad dash to the bush line in attempt to flee the corn field.
To my delight those birds left the field on a string, straight to the diminished portion of the fence to where my client lay in ambush. Not a minute went by before the roar of a scatter gun displaced the sounds of Mother Nature, followed by the eerie silence that always follows a gun blast in the woods.
Walking over, I could already hear the distinct “thump thump thump†of a fatally wounded turkey flapping around on the hard pack clay of a cow path. Emerging from his hiding area my client walked up, smiling and obviously excited about how the plan played out. He explained that this bird came running from the corn field and stopped just on the legal side of the fence, giving him time to determine a positive match for a mature Tom and opportunity to square up a humane and accurate shot.
This hunt was not as they say the “purest way†to hunt birds, but I would compliment my client’s ability and lack of reluctance to try a new and tactically critical technique. It worked out just right, thanks to attention to detail and a little luck on the last day of turkey season.
Congrats GB
So there your have, Turkey Season 2010 in the books.
As the last hours of hunting season wound down and the sun was well on its way below the horizon, the clouds parted over my favorite hunting grounds for a momentary salute of greatness.
Quietly I said to myself, what a fantastic ending to a perfect spring turkey season.
Trevor Kunopaski
Great pic's
I don't even hunt and enjoyed it...something I would be interested in trying to my wife's chagrin 
