E. Donnall Thomas Jr.

Elk Down Low

fieldandstream-editor — Thu, 08 Sep 2005 12:25:00 -0400

These days I do a lot of my elk hunting in open terrain far from the mountaintops that most hunters think of as elk country. Elk used to be animals of the prairies and foothills (just read the journals of Lewis and Clark for proof), and they're rediscovering those preferences. It's due to a variety of reasons, including improved game management strategies and the increased proximity of crops to security cover.

Hunters are also to blame for changes in elk country. Elk are intelligent, adaptable animals that are quick to learn from hunting pressure, which has increased over the last 20 years. Nothing illustrates this like the way elk respond-or rather don't respond-to calling. It used to be common to find unpressured elk and have them come running to a bugle. Now most of that action takes place on exclusive hunting ranches.

I've learned that you have to adapt to these new circumstances to stay successful. Years ago, I spent the season climbing mountains and covering lots of ground, confident that if I hunted hard enough I'd find a cooperative bull and kill him. Of course, my legs were younger then, and my back was strong enough that I didn't have to worry much about where I shot one. But now, for reasons that have more to do with educated elk than with any aversion to physical effort, I cover a lot less terrain, do a lot more thinking, and kill more elk than ever. Here are the 10 rules that I live by in order to hunt modern elk.

1. Decide if you're trying to find elk or to kill one.
These aren't the same thing, and you have to ask yourself this question every time you set out. If you have no idea whether there are elk in the area, you have no choice except to move at a pace that is too fast for hunting, just to find them. Conversely, if you know their whereabouts, you need to slow down and slow down some more. The days of charging through the mountains hoping to blunder into a naÂ¿Â¿ve bull are over. But elk are large, noisy, odiferous animals that leave abundant sign like rubs, wallows, tracks, and droppings. Get out and scout so that you know the general location of the elk by the time you start hunting.

2. Hunt elk like whitetails.
When elk start acting like deer by visiting regular food sources, hunt them like deer. Nowadays, I do a lot more sitting and a lot less hiking. Getting close is always easier when animals are coming to you, and holding still reduces the chance of spooking the herd and making all that scouting effort unravel. Even simple blinds of materials collected on site can be effective when placed near wallows, springs, fence crossings, and natural funnels along transition routes between feeding and bedding areas.

3. Find the food.
In mountainous terrain, food sources tend to be widely dispersed. But at lower elevations adjacent to agricultural property, elk will zero in on specific fields and concentrate there at night in large numbers (to the consternation of farmers, who may actually welcome a bit of hunting pressure). Hay barley and alfalfa are particular favorites. Although fields may not offer the best hunting circumstances, they do offer a ready key to identifying transition zones. Even during daylight hours when the animals are long gone, their tracks, droppings, and hair on fences all provide a ready means of identifying which fields they are using. This should be a preseason project.

[NEXT "Stay out of bedding cover."] 4. Stay out of bedding cover.
This is called security cover for a reason, and once you've made the elk nervous by blundering into it, they may change their habits completely. Stay clear and hunt the transition zones between bedding areas and food sources instead. Modern elk raiding crops at lower elevations think nothing of covering 5 miles one way every night to feed. You have a good chance at finding an ambush point somewhere along their path. Altugh elk generally visit the food source only after shooting hours, you may be able to set up there early in the morning and catch the elk before they leave. Cover is often limited here, but if the elk spot you it shouldn't have much effect on their movement patterns, since they're accustomed to human presence near fields and crops.

5. Spook no elk.
Ask most elk hunters their goal at the beginning of the day and they'll reply, "To kill a big bull." Not me. My goal is not to screw up. I've found my best chance for success comes from having one distinct advantage over my quarry: I know a hunt is taking place and they don't. Elk hunting becomes infinitely more difficult once the animals have had their chains pulled, so I'll do anything to maintain that edge, even if that means passing up stalks when conditions aren't ideal. This principle is especially relevant at lower elevations that include private ground, since a miscue may send the herd onto adjoining property where I can't hunt them. The sound of barking cows and thundering hoofs is the last thing you want to hear.

6. Obey the wind.
Several times every season I end a good hunt before it starts just because the wind isn't cooperating. Wind direction should be the prime consideration during every elk hunt. While elk have good eyes and ears, they have great noses, and more than any other North American game animal they rely on their sense of smell to keep them out of trouble. Never mind cover scents and special clothing. The only trick that can reliably keep elk from smelling you is keeping the breeze in your face.

7. Respect the lead cow. Elk live in a matriarchal society. During the rut, big herd bulls sometimes act brain-dead. The old cow at the head of the line, however, is another story. For practical purposes, lead cows never make mistakes. You may get away with bumping a spike, calf, or satellite bull, but spook the lead cow and you will spend the next several days looking for elk instead of hunting them. [NEXT "Stop Calling"] 8. Stop calling.
Bugling-the term I'll use to refer to bugling, cow talking, and everything in between-has become a controversial practice. Some knowledgeable elk hunters think that human calling interferes with the rut to such an extent that it should be banned. I don't go that far, but I do think that bugling is one of the most overused of all hunting techniques. Back when, regulations ensured that the early bugle season took place under one of two circumstances: in remote wilderness areas far from crowds or during archery season, which had few participants at the time. Nowadays, except on very large private ranches, elk have heard it all, and they are becoming bugle-shy. No matter what the quarry, any call represents an exchange of information as useful to the defense as it is to the offense. I seldom call at all, even during the heart of the rut.

9. If you must call, think first.
Once in a while I do call with extreme discipline. The trick is this: Before you put that tube to your lips and let out a noise that might lure a wise old bull into range but could all too easily spook him instead, articulate to yourself what you hope to accomplish. Good reasons are to locate elk when you have absolutely no idea where they are, or to influence a specific bull that is acting ripe for a challenge. Bad reasons are that you're bored, nothing else is happening, or that's how they did it on the hunting video. When in doubt, stay silent.

10. Follow the Golden Rule.
We all learned it as kids: "Do unto others as you would have others do unto you." Many of the recent changes I've noted in elk behavior derive from one factor: There are too many hunters who lack the discipline to adhere to the guidelines I've just reviewed, resulting in nervous, nocturnal, bugle-shy bulls. So tread lightly and strive for minimum impact. The result will be better elk hunting for everyone. e for minimum impact. The result will be better elk hunting for everyone.

Modern Tactics for Hunting Elk

fieldandstream-editor — Wed, 31 Aug 2005 20:00:00 -0400

These days I do a lot of my elk hunting in open terrain far from the mountain-tops that most hunters think of as elk country. Elk used to be animals of the prairies and foothills (just read the journals of Lewis and Clark for proof), and they're rediscovering those preferences. It's due to a variety of reasons, including improved game management strategies and the increased proximity of crops to security cover.

Hunters are also to blame for changes in elk country. Elk are intelligent, adaptable animals that are quick to learn from hunting pressure, which has increased over the last 20 years. Nothing illustrates this like the way elk respond—or rather don't respond—to calling. It used to be common to find unpressured elk and have them come running to a bugle. Now most of that action takes place on exclusive hunting ranches.

I've learned that you have to adapt to these new circumstances to stay successful. Years ago, I spent the season climbing mountains and covering lots of ground, confident that if I hunted hard enough I'd find a cooperative bull and kill him. Of course, my legs were younger then, and my back was strong enough that I didn't have to worry much about where I shot one. But now, for reasons that have more to do with educated elk than with any aversion to physical effort, I cover a lot less terrain, do a lot more thinking, and kill more elk than ever. Here are the 10 rules that I live by in order to hunt modern elk.

1 Decide if you're trying to find elk or to kill one.
These aren't the same thing, and you have to ask yourself this question every time you set out. If you have no idea whether there are elk in the area, you have no choice except to move at a pace that is too fast for hunting, just to find them. Conversely, if you know their whereabouts, you need to slow down and slow down some more. The days of charging through the mountains hoping to blunder into a naïve bull are over. But elk are large, noisy, odiferous animals that leave abundant sign like rubs, wallows, tracks, and droppings. Get out and scout so that you know the general location of the elk by the time you start hunting.

2 Hunt elk like whitetails.
When elk start acting like deer by visiting regular food sources, hunt them like deer. Nowadays, I do a lot more sitting and a lot less hiking. Getting close is always easier when animals are coming to you, and holding still reduces the chance of spooking the herd and making all that scouting effort unravel. Even simple blinds of materials collected on site can be effective when placed near wallows, springs, fence crossings, and natural funnels along transition routes between feeding and bedding areas.

3 Find the food.
In mountainous terrain, food sources tend to be widely dispersed. But at lower elevations adjacent to agricultural property, elk will zero in on specific fields and concentrate there at night in large numbers (to the consternation of farmers, who may actually welcome a bit of hunting pressure). Hay barley and alfalfa are particular favorites. Although fields may not offer the best hunting circumstances, they do offer a ready key to identifying transition zones. Even during daylight hours when the animals are long gone, their tracks, droppings, and hair on fences all provide a ready means of identifying which fields they are using. This should be a preseason project.

4 Stay out of bedding cover.
This is called security cover for a reason, and once you've made the elk nervous by blundering into it, they may change their habits completely. Stay clear and hunt the transition zones between bedding areas and food sources instead. Modern elk raiding crops at lower elevations think nothing of covering 5 miles one way every night to feed. You have a good chance at finding an ambush point somewhere along their path. Although elk generally visit the food source only after shooting hours, you may be able to set up there early in the morning and catch the elk before they leave. Cover is often limited here, but if the elk spot you it shouldn't have much effect on their movement patterns, since they're accustomed to human presence near fields and crops.

5 Spook no elk.
Ask most elk hunters their goal at the beginning of the day and they'll reply, "To kill a big bull." Not me. My goal is not to screw up. I've found my best chance for success comes from having one distinct advantage over my quarry: I know a hunt is taking place and they don't. Elk hunting becomes infinitely more difficult once the animals have had their chains pulled, so I'll do anything to maintain that edge, even if that means passing up stalks when conditions aren't ideal. This principle is especially relevant at lower elevations that include private ground, since a miscue may send the herd onto adjoining property where I can't hunt them. The sound of barking cows and thundering hoofs is the last thing you want to hear.

6 Obey the wind.
Several times every season I end a good hunt before it starts just because the wind isn't cooperating. Wind direction should be the prime consideration during every elk hunt. While elk have good eyes and ears, they have great noses, and more than any other North American game animal they rely on their sense of smell to keep them out of trouble. Never mind cover scents and special clothing. The only trick that can reliably keep elk from smelling you is keeping the breeze in your face.

7 Respect the lead cow.
Elk live in a matriarchal society. During the rut, big herd bulls sometimes act brain-dead. The old cow at the head of the line, however, is another story. For practical purposes, lead cows never make mistakes. You may get away with bumping a spike, calf, or satellite bull, but spook the lead cow and you will spend the next several days looking for elk instead of hunting them.

8 Stop calling.
Bugling—the term I'll use to refer to bugling, cow talking, and everything in between—has become a controversial practice. Some knowledgeable elk hunters think that human calling interferes with the rut to such an extent that it should be banned. I don't go that far, but I do think that bugling is one of the most overused of all hunting techniques. Back when, regulations ensured that the early bugle season took place under one of two circumstances: in remote wilderness areas far from crowds or during archery season, which had few participants at the time.

Nowadays, except on very large private ranches, elk have heard it all, and they are becoming bugle-shy. No matter what the quarry, any call represents an exchange of information as useful to the defense as it is to the offense. I seldom call at all, even during the heart of the rut.

9 If you must call, think first.
Once in a while I do call with extreme discipline. The trick is this: Before you put that tube to your lips and let out a noise that might lure a wise old bull into range but could all too easily spook him instead, articulate to yourself what you hope to accomplish. Good reasons are to locate elk when you have absolutely no idea where they are, or to influence a specific bull that is acting ripe for a challenge. Bad reasons are that you're bored, nothing else is happening, or that's how they did it on the hunting video. When in doubt, stay silent.

10 Follow the Golden Rule.
We all learned it as kids: "Do unto others as you would have others do unto you." Many of the recent changes I've noted in elk behavior derive from one factor: There are too many hunters who lack the discipline to adhere to the guidelines I've just reviewed, resulting in nervous, nocturnal, bugle-shy bulls. So tread lightly and strive for minimum impact. The result will be better elk hunting for everyone.

Blue-Collar Bones

fieldandstream-editor — Sun, 19 Sep 2004 10:35:00 -0400

As our guide cut the throttle, the skiff came off its plane and settled gently to rest. Miles of glassy water stretched away across the flats toward Padre Island and the warm glow of the rising sun. As my wife, Lori, and I grabbed our gear and slid over the gunwale, the waters of the Laguna Madre provided a warm welcome to south Texas, and I began to fish with my eyes, as if we were hunting antelope instead of stalking red drum-a.k.a. redfish.

Within minutes, Lori and I each spotted telltale dimples on the mirrored surface of the bay-all an experienced redfish angler needs to get his pulse racing. When a fish finally appeared, my predatory instincts kicked in; tailing reds are feeding reds, and I quickly moved into position to cast.

My fly fell right where I aimed, a few inches in front of the fish's nose. The water bulged, and when I strip-set the hook the morning's serenity evaporated into frothing spray. Feeling vaguely guilty, I glanced over my shoulder at Lori only to see her fast to a redfish of her own. We were both working hard in the home of the Texas reds-the blue-collar bonefish.

I love the excitement of flats fishing, but a week at a premier destination for bonefish, tarpon, or permit can put a significant dent in the credit card. So in the last decade I've come to know and love the everyman's alternative to those high-profile species: the redfish.

Redfish and bonefish have a lot in common. Both follow the tides onto shallow flats, allowing anglers to stalk them. They enjoy similar diets of shrimp, crabs, and small baitfish, and each responds to similar fly patterns. Of course reds can't match the blazing speed of bonefish, but they fight with powerful, dogged runs that can easily take a fly-rod angler into his backing. Unlike bones, reds will take small surface poppers, and they are a delight on the table, with a light, firm flesh that lends itself well to any dish from ceviche to classic blackened redfish seared in a cast-iron skillet.

I've caught reds throughout most of their range from the Atlantic across the Gulf, but the complex series of channels and flats that separates Padre Island from the mainland has been the most enjoyable place I've fished. This area appeals to me for several reasons: It's cheap and easy to reach, it offers year-round fishing, and you can wade the flats, which I prefer to standing in a skiff. Plus, the Laguna's waters harbor other sporting species like seatrout and black drum.

[NEXT "Continued..."] I usually set up base in Port Mansfield, a tiny bayside community located between Corpus Christi and Brownsville that exists for no obvious reason other than to get anglers pointed toward fish. Accommodations include a few motels catering to anglers and numerous condos for rent: There's nothing fancy, but the prices reflect the ambience. It's my kind of place-one that emphasizes substance over style and hardcore fishing over pretension.

Trip Planner
When to Go: Redfish inhabit the flats of the Laguna Madre year-round. Locals prefer to fish in late spring and early fall because of more pleasant and predictable weather, but we've also done well there in February and March.

Tackle, Gear, and Guides: Use 7- or 8-weight saltwater fly rods, floating lines, and 9-foot leaders. Clouser minnows, shrimp or crab imitations, and small surface poppers will all catch redfish. Wading shoes and polarized glasses are musts. Although it's possible to fish from shore, you'll reach better water by boat. The complexity of the Laguna's shallows makes a good argument for hiring an experienced guide. Contact: Troy Monjaras, 956-944-2879 (approximately $400Â¿Â¿Â¿$475 per day).

Regulations: Seasons are open all year. The daily limit is three redfish between 20 and 28 inches.

Where to Stay: Get-A-Way Adventures Lodge (offers guide services, too), 956-944-4000; www.getaawayadventureslodge.com. Kathy's Bay House Rentals (condos for rent), 956-944-2575.

For More Information: Port Mansfield Chamber of Commerce, 956-944-2354; www.port-mansfield.com/chamber.htm. -E.D.T.

Fishing for Texas Redfish

fieldandstream-editor — Tue, 31 Aug 2004 20:00:00 -0400

Within minutes, Lori and I each spotted telltale dimples on the mirrored surface of the bay—all an experienced redfish angler needs to get his pulse racing. When a fish finally appeared, my predatory instincts kicked in; tailing reds are feeding reds, and I quickly moved into position to cast.

My fly fell right where I aimed, a few inches in front of the fish's nose. The water bulged, and when I strip-set the hook the morning's serenity evaporated into frothing spray. Feeling vaguely guilty, I glanced over my shoulder at Lori only to see her fast to a redfish of her own. We were both working hard in the home of the Texas reds—the blue-collar bonefish.

I love the excitement of flats fishing, but a week at a premier destination for bonefish, tarpon, or permit can put a significant dent in the credit card. So in the last decade I've come to know and love the everyman's alternative to those high-profile species: the redfish.

Redfish and bonefish have a lot in common. Both follow the tides onto shallow flats, allowing anglers to stalk them. They enjoy similar diets of shrimp, crabs, and small baitfish, and each responds to similar fly patterns. Of course reds can't match the blazing speed of bonefish, but they fight with powerful, dogged runs that can easily take a fly-rod angler into his backing. Unlike bones, reds will take small surface poppers, and they are a delight on the table, with a light, firm flesh that lends itself well to any dish from ceviche to classic blackened redfish seared in a cast-iron skillet.

I've caught reds throughout most of their range from the Atlantic across the Gulf, but the complex series of channels and flats that separates Padre Island from the mainland has been the most enjoyable place I've fished. This area appeals to me for several reasons: It's cheap and easy to reach, it offers year-round fishing, and you can wade the flats, which I prefer to standing in a skiff. Plus, the Laguna's waters harbor other sporting species like seatrout and black drum.

I usually set up base in Port Mansfield, a tiny bayside community located between Corpus Christi and Brownsville that exists for no obvious reason other than to get anglers pointed toward fish. Accommodations include a few motels catering to anglers and numerous condos for rent: There's nothing fancy, but the prices reflect the ambience. It's my kind of place—one that emphasizes substance over style and hardcore fishing over pretension.

TRIP PLANNER

WHEN TO GO: Redfish inhabit the flats of the Laguna Madre year-round. Locals prefer to fish in late spring and early fall because of more pleasant and predictable weather, but we've also done well there in February and March.

TACKLE, GEAR, AND GUIDES: Use 7- or 8-weight saltwater fly rods, floating lines, and 9-foot leaders. Clouser minnows, shrimp or crab imitations, and small surface poppers will all catch redfish. Wading shoes and polarized glasses are musts. Although it's possible to fish from shore, you'll reach better water by boat. The complexity of the Laguna's shallows makes a good argument for hiring an experienced guide. Contact: Troy Monjaras, 956-944-2879 (approximately $400-$475 per day).

REGULATIONS: Seasons are open all year. The daily limit is three redfish between 20 and 28 inches.

WHERE TO STAY: Get-A-Way Adventures Lodge (offers guide services, too), 956-944-4000; www.getawayadventureslodge.com. Kathy's Bay House Rentals (condos for rent), 956-944-2575.

FOR MORE INFORMATION: Port Mansfield Chamber of Commerce, 956-944-2354; www.port-mansfield.com/chamber.htm. —E.D.T.

How to Take Gobblers with a Bow

fieldandstream-editor — Wed, 31 Mar 2004 19:00:00 -0500

From the shelter of the pines, I offer a few soft yelps of my own, each answered immediately by a gobble, and then the bird appears. Any notion that I'm hunting small game doesn't survive the gobbler's first break into full strut. Fantailed and puffed out, head glowing red, white, and blue like a neon sign, the tom is as formidable as any animal I've ever faced.

And since he's only 20 yards away, he'd already be dead if I were hunting with a shotgun. My longbow, however, demands another order of patience. For two agonizing minutes, the tom struts without offering a shot. But finally that luminous head disappears behind a mature pine's trunk, and when it reemerges, I'm locked at full draw, concentrating on an imaginary spot at the base of the wing.

Anyone who thinks the 10-yard range makes this a chip shot hasn't bowhunted turkeys. But my heavy cedar arrow disappears into the mound of feathers right where it should, dropping the tom in plain sight. Over the course of a long career afield, I've called into bow range species ranging from whitetails to elk to moose, and none have been more exciting than this.

[LITTLE BIG GAME] No matter that they're covered with feathers rather than hair and sport beards instead of antlers, the wild turkey is big game in every sense of the term. And no quarry causes more difficulty for knowledgeable firearm hunters interested in making the transition to the bow. No matter your choice of tackle--compound, recurve, or long-bow--it's a steep, tough learning curve even for seasoned veterans with dozens of shotgun gobblers to their credit.

The toughest part is not getting within bow range of a turkey. Many gobblers that fall to shotguns every spring are taken at ranges appropriate to bow and arrow. It's the endgame that causes problems, and turkey hunters new to the bow are often amazed by the number of close encounters that come to nothing.

Credit--or blame--the turkey's vision. With remarkable pattern-recognizing ability and virtually no blind spots in their visual scan, they can sense close-range trouble even the wariest buck might miss. Nothing detects and reacts to motion as quickly as a turkey, which is trouble for bowhunters since it's impossible to draw without moving.

A memorable morning, early in my experience with hunting turkeys by bow, illustrates the sport's challenges. After I'd spent two hours trading yelps and gobbles with a reluctant tom, the wise old bird finally decided to approach, and my first glimpse of him strutting boldly uphill in the sunlight aroused a severe case of pitter-patters.

I'd set up behind a fallen pine that offered excellent cover. As the bird disappeared into a dip a dozen yards away, I rose to one knee and prepared to draw whenever he emerged. Seconds dragged into minutes, and I suddenly noticed a shadow fall across the ground beneath me. Unseen, he had taken a detour around the log to a position a mere 3 feet from where I waited. By the time I pivoted and drew, my fluffed-up target had become a streaking bronze blur. I swung my longbow, led him as I would have with a shotgun--and let down without releasing the arrow.

[TURKEY TOOLS] The development of lightweight, freestanding cloth ground blinds has had a tremendous impact on bowhunters' ability to convert close encounters into dead birds. Despite turkeys' incredible wariness, for some reason they treat blinds--even if set up in the open--as if they weren't there. The bowhunter inside one of these has at least some freedom of movement at close range. Getting off a shot still requires patience and technique, but good blinds greatly enhance the possibility, and I would venture that the majority of bow-killed turkeys nowadays fall to hunters using them.

With that said, I have to point out that I still do most of my own turkey hunting without freestanding blinds. I primarily hunt the highly mobile Merriam subspecies in the Rocky Mountain West, and I like to cover more ground than carrying a heavy blind allows. Instead, I use a simple, homemade version that offers a compromise between concealment and portability (see sidebar below).

A decoy can be another valuable tool. In terms of drawing birds into shotgun range, I've never felt that decoys added much to good calling. But they do help put toms right where you want them--important when it comes to getting an arrow off undetected.

Hunters in blinds can use a decoy to lure the bird directly in front of a shooting window. Put the fake close by. The bird won't pay any attention to the blind, so treat yourself to that 5-yard shot. Without a blind, remember that the best times to draw are when the bird walks behind a thick tree or eclipses his vision with his tail while strutting. A decoy can help make either event take place within good bow range.

[FRUSTRATION HAS ITS REWARDS] Neither traditional skills nor adjuncts like blinds and decoys can guarantee success, which helps explain the pursuit's enduring fascination. To fall to an arrow, a gobbler has to make a mistake, and I spend a lot of time each spring trying to find one ready to do so.

Two years ago, I'd located a group of birds strutting in a remote mountain meadow. Since the sign indicated they'd been using the area for some time, I set up a freestanding blind and returned well before dawn the following morning. Just before sunrise, an eruption of gobbles from the nearby roost confirmed the accuracy of my scouting. With three decoys positioned in front of me, I offered a few soft yelps and settled back to wait, confident in an apparently perfect setup.

The sun had risen behind me by the time three toms appeared. But instead of heading into the decoys, the birds immediately walked behind me and began to strut. Since I'd backed the blind against a tree and closed the windows on that side for better concealment, shooting in that direction was impossible. For 30 minutes, I waited for one of the toms to wind up where I had expected, to no avail. Meanwhile, the rising sun cast their backlit silhouettes against the side of the blind while the birds taunted me just a few yards away.

At times like that, it seems reasonable to ask: Why bother with the frustration of archery turkeys? I can only reflect on the countless days that my bow has allowed me to remain in the woods when a shotgun would have ended my season on opening morning, and the incredible satisfaction derived from winning the toughest hunting game I've ever played.

THE INSTANT BLIND

Hunters who need to cover a lot of ground can make a blind with a 15-foot section of camo netting, two light tent stakes, some clothespins or zip ties, and a seat that straps onto a tree trunk. All of this only weighs a few pounds and fits easily in a daypack. --After locating a bird, look for a stout pine with overhanging branches surrounded by relatively open ground. Hang the middle of the netting chin-high on the side of the tree that you expect the bird to approach from. (Use netting that's woven over fine mesh--this stuff is "sticky" and will easily attach to limbs and bark.) Hook the upper corners on overhanging branches or attach them with the ties or clothespins. You want to form a V, with the apex facing the bird. Finally, stake out the lower corners, and strap the seat to the tree. It's not just for comfort: You may have to hold still in shooting position for a long period of time. Place the decoys in front of you and sit with your back toward the bird. The idea is to draw and shoot as the bird passes the edge of the netting toward the decoys. --E.D.T.

PICK A SPOT

Puffed up in strut, a gobbler presents an inviting target, but the vital area is only the size of your fist. Aim high on the leading edge of the wing if the bird is broadside, just above the beard if it's frontal, and where all the tail feathers converge if it's strutting straight away. --Arrows kill turkeys the same way they kill grizzly bears--by penetrating vital organs. Sharpen your broadheads carefully, and avoid devices promoted to retard arrow penetration. I choose the same archery tackle that I use when deer hunting. --E.D.T.

Turkey Hunting for Masochists

fieldandstream-editor — Sat, 27 Mar 2004 04:05:00 -0500

I'm racing down a ridge against the advancing dawn, trying to reach a position directly uphill from the gobbling bird. When I get there I quickly arrange three silhouette decoys in a clearing, just in front of a copse of pines the size of Christmas trees. Before I can worry about setting up a proper blind, the tom begins to gobble repeatedly, and as the sound of hens rises below, I realize that I'll have to make do with natural cover.

From the shelter of the pines, I offer a few soft yelps of my own, each answered immediately by a gobble, and then the bird appears. Any notion that I'm hunting small game doesn't survive the gobbler's first break into full strut. Fantailed and puffed out, head glowing red, white, and blue like a neon sign, the tom is as formidable as any animal I've ever faced.

And since he's only 20 yards away, he'd already be dead if I were hunting with a shotgun. My longbow, however, demands another order of patience. For two agonizing minutes, the tom struts without offering a shot. But finally that luminous head disappears behind a mature pine's trunk, and when it reemerges, I'm locked at full draw, concentrating on an imaginary spot at the base of the wing. Anyone who thinks the 10-yard range makes this a chip shot hasn't bowhunted turkeys. But my heavy cedar arrow disappears into the mound of feathers right where it should, dropping the tom in plain sight. Over the course of a long career afield, I've called into bow range species ranging from whitetails to elk to moose, and none have been more exciting than this. Little Big Game
No matter that they're covered with feathers rather than hair and sport beards instead of antlers, the wild turkey is big game in every sense of the term. And no quarry causes more difficulty for knowledgeable firearm hunters interested in making the transition to the bow. No matter your choice of tackle-compound, recurve, or longbow-it's a steep, tough learning curve even for seasoned veterans with dozens of shotgun gobblers to their credit.

The toughest part is not getting within bow range of a turkey. Many gobblers that fall to shotguns every spring are taken at ranges appropriate to bow and arrow. It's the endgame that causes problems, and turkey hunters new to the bow are often amazed by the number of close encounters that come to nothing. Credit-or blame-the turkey's vision. With remarkable pattern-recognizing ability and virtually no blind spots in their visual scan, they can sense close-range trouble even the wariest buck might miss. Nothing detects and reacts to motion as quickly as a turkey, which is trouble for bowhunters since it's impossible to draw without moving.

A memorable morning, early in my experience with hunting turkeys by bow, illustrates the sport's challenges. After I'd spent two hours trading yelps and gobbles with a reluctant tom, the wise old bird finally decided to approach, and my first glimpse of him strutting boldly uphill in the sunlight aroused a severe case of pitter-patters.

I'd set up behind a fallen pine that offered excellent cover. As the bird disappeared into a dip a dozen yards away, I rose to one knee and prepared to draw whenever he emerged. Seconds dragged into minutes, and I suddenly noticed a shadow fall across the ground beneath me. Unseen, he had taken a detour around the log to a position a mere 3 feet from where I waited. By the time I pivoted and drew, my fluffed-up target had become a streaking bronze blur. I swung my longbow, led him as I would have with a shotgun-and let down without releasing the arrow.

Turkey Tools
The development of lightweight, freestanding cloth ground blinds has had a tremendous impact on bowhunters' ability to convert close encounters into dead birds. Despite turkeys' incredible wariness, for some reason they treat blinds-even if set up in the open-as if they weren't there. The bowhunter inside one of these has at least some freedom of movement at close range. Getting off a shot still requires patience and technique, but good blinds greatly enhance the possibility, and I would venture that the majority of bow-killed turkeys nowadays fall to hunters using them.

With that said, I have to point out that I still do most of my own turkey hunting without freestanding blinds. I primarily hunt the highly mobile Merriam subspecies in the Rocky Mountain West, and I like to cover more ground than carrying a heavy blind allows. Instead, I use a simple, homemade version that offers a compromise between concealment and portability (see sidebar).

A decoy can be another valuable tool. In terms of drawing birds into shotgun range, I've never felt that decoys added much to good calling. But they do help put toms right where you want them-important when it comes to getting an arrow off undetected.

Hunters in blinds can use a decoy to lure the bird directly in front of a shooting window. Put the fake close by. The bird won't pay any attention to the blind, so treat yourself to that 5-yard shot. Without a blind, remember that the best times to draw are when the bird walks behind a thick tree or eclipses his vision with his tail while strutting. A decoy can help make either event take place within good bow range.

Frustration Has Its Rewards
Neither traditional skills nor adjuncts like blinds and decoys can guarantee success, which helps explain the pursuit's enduring fascination. To fall to an arrow, a gobbler has to make a mistake, and I spend a lot of time each spring trying to find one ready to do so.

Two years ago, I'd located a group of birds strutting in a remote mountain meadow. Since the sign indicated they'd been using the area for some time, I set up a freestanding blind and returned well before dawn the following morning. Just before sunrise, an eruption of gobbles from the nearby roost confirmed the accuracy of my scouting. With three decoys positioned in front of me, I offered a few soft yelps and settled back to wait, confident in an apparently perfect setup.

The sun had risen behind me by the time three toms appeared. But instead of heading into the decoys, the birds immediately walked behind me and began to strut. Since I'd backed the blind against a tree and closed the windows on that side for better concealment, shooting in that direction was impossible. For 30 minutes, I waited for one of the toms to wind up where I had expected, to no avail. Meanwhile, the rising sun cast their backlit silhouettes against the side of the blind while the birds taunted me just a few yards away.

At times like that, it seems reasonable to ask: Why bother with the frustration of archery turkeys? I can only reflect on the countless days that my bow has allowed me to remain in the woods when a shotgun would have ended my season on opening morning, and the incredible satisfaction derived from winning the toughest hunting game I've ever played.