Spring has truly arrived when the wild turkeys start gobbling.
Thirty years ago that would have sadly been false because no wild turkeys remained in Wisconsin. Like other animals, they were driven from much of their native range by habitat loss and overhunting. In 1976 the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources traded some ruffed grouse hatchlings to Missouri in exchange for some wild turkeys. The trade was a success for both states, and wild turkeys are now common nearly statewide.
I drove to Buffalo County Friday night. Buffalo County is a pastoral, charming place on the Mississippi River in western Wisconsin. Instead of the lakes and rolling hills that typify most of Wisconsin, this area has lush green valleys surrounded by steep oak ridges resembling tiny mountain ranges. Poor and rural, Buffalo County happens to have some of the best hunting in the state.
Saturday morning would have been great except for that damn dog. This particular morning of the hunt, a black lab had decided to follow us out. It went away for a while, and I forgot about it. It decided to come back and run circles around my decoy spread, just as the first turkeys had stepped into the field. Darn, one morning gone.
That afternoon I went to the valley where I had spotted the flock in the morning. Within 20 minutes I was calling in a tom. Suddenly, the woods behind me exploded into crashing noises and then a loud whooshing. A hen flew over my head and into the field to join the gobbler. Apparently, this tom was some kind of sweet-talker. After getting within 35 yards I shot, and the turkey flew.
I decided that the next day I would wait until I called one in closer. Amazingly, by 6 a.m. I had another flock coming in the same valley. This time I could hear two toms gobbling on my right, and one on my left. I could not see any, but I stayed patient and within an hour the whole flock was in front of me. This time the tom got even closer when I missed.
After the second miss in as many days I started to wonder if I should give up hunting and just call myself a birdwatcher. My shotgun could make a good doorstop, or maybe even a canoe paddle.
