Bears n Bows

Gently pushing shut the truck door  amidst subdued whispers and bobbing flashlight beams  probing the darkened overgrown apple orchard, we silently began our long awaited hunt. We quickly walked the extent of the timeworn apple orchard, crossed a smallish field, and started our walk up the  north face of the valley. The chill of the dawning air was shortly not much more than a memory as the steep slope took it’s toll on our legs.

   Perhaps 15 minutes later we were at the top. The pre-dawn darkness was utterly without a sound and I remember conveying to myself to make mental note  how wondrous such moments can be.

   Just as the eastern horizon tantalized us with a whisper of pink, the first bird sounded off. So low at first  I began to wonder if I heard it at all. Thankfully, this was succeeded by a  louder   solitary “cluck”.  And then moments later another bird responded with a sequence of yelps. Before long a dozen wild turkeys were vocalizing  all over the mountain top…… a sweeter sound I may never have heard!

   Kevin began answering back. Slowly at times, more urgent at others. Although this was my first ever turkey hunt, I believe I witnessed every call known other than gobbling, which is a spring breeding  call. Kevin imitated the turkey talk flawlessly! After a while I couldn’t tell his clucks, yelps, kee kees, and purrs from those of the nearby turkeys.

   At daybreak, the turkeys began to fly down from their roosts. ( I was amazed at how loud this was). Within minutes I glimpsed a couple birds cautiously working their way to Kevin’s skilful calling. The lead bird was a big ol’ longbeard, probably in the 20 pound range. The flock hung up just out of effective range but Kevin continued to yelp and purr the birds into a  feeling of safety and kept them coming. At roughly 20 yards I decided it was time to shoot. Heck, I was already tagging the big tom. I was already seated with a bead on the tom’s red head. All I had to do was  lower  my head and shift myself ever so little to the left and go collect my first tur……what the!…gone! disappeared in a heartbeat.

    I was busted big time! and had a new genuine respect for the quarry I had come so far to hunt.

When I looked over at Kevin and said “ I barely moved” he pulled down his camo face mask and said “ yup, they got pretty good eyesight all right I guess”.

   And that my friends was my introduction to turkey hunting. We left the area and went to another farm to try our luck. Dylan, my 14 year old son was along on this trip and just as eager as I  to take his first wild turkey. He was to get his wish. Kevin set me up on another picturesque hillside while he and Dylan went about a hundred yards further and began calling.

   I was enjoying the  view while licking my wounds from the early morning’s hunt when a 3 inch magnum  boomed from Dylan’s 12 gauge. I looked down and saw them waving for me to come down to their location. To say I sauntered over would be a gross understatement. It was a nice bird in the 10 -12 pound range. As we stood around chatting (as hunters are apt to do after a successful hunt) admiring the beautiful bird I’m not sure who was more excited, me or Dylan!

The third and last evening of our New York turkey hunt unfolded as if  pre-written in a hunting show  script. Picture this: The sun is beginning to slip below the diverse stand of hardwoods we’re hunting. I’m sitting against the base of a giant beech tree. The hillside is thoroughly full of turkey scratchings (made while the birds forage for food). Turkeys are yelping all around us. There are possibly 10 birds approaching  our calling. It’s not a matter of if we’ll see the flock, but when. If the birds make it to roost in the trees before we can shoot, they are safe. While it may be legal, shooting a bird off it’s roost is akin to  shooting sitting ducks - simply not done old chap!  Suddenly, I see a large tom proceeding to investigate our calling. I aim at his red head and pull the trigger. Moments later I am securing my second turkey tag around his leg.

   Walking off the mountain in complete darkness, I am comforted by the hefty weight of the turkey slung over my shoulder (ALA Sunday morning hunting shows) and having had the chance to share this hunt with Dylan  I wonder to myself if it can get any better than this.

   The only way I can think it would be better was if we had wild turkeys in Nova Scotia……..

check out the vid

http://skinnymoosemedia.com/view_video.php?viewkey=d8176d665453cfb2e55f

Here’s one of my first groups after my shoulder injury and not shooting for 6 months. Not all that tight but at least I was able to shoot!

sorry folks been away for a bit….having difficulty with my cam…should have it fixed very soon so I can start with the vid-tips.

 Thanks for your patience……

I was thinking here today what may make this blog standout from the rest.  So…I got to thinking…..why not put up some more video clips with a weekly tip or idea contained within it. The more I thought about it….the better I like it.

Therefore…before this weekend is over I’ll have the first of a weekly series of hunting related clips up.

Wow, check out this bear !   Apparently it was this guys first time grizzly bear hunting - I guess one could say beginers luck !

 I won’t add to much as the story in Bear Mag pretty well sums it up.

http://www.bear-hunting.com/news.cfm?Action=News&NewsFlashID=354

From the moment I first witnessed a bull moose completely and utterly forfeit his senses to my guide’s mournful bawling of a love sick cow moose I was captivated with the notion of calling animals. To compel a customarily shy and elusive creature abandon it’s guard and draw it to within spitting distance gives a hunter a great sense of achievement. And so it should. It’s not an easy task.

Since that occasion I’ve called moose, deer, caribou, and even a few wild turkey south of the boarder. Without a doubt though, for me, the most stimulating and challenging calling is a summons directed at coyotes. The sinister sound of a howling pack can make the hair rise on the back of my neck. A more unsettling resonance emitting from a poorly lit woodland I may well never have been witness to.

The principal call will more often than not, imitate a diminutive animal in distress. While bleats and squeaks from deer size animals to mice can and will entice coyotes in for an easy meal I’d be willing to wager the call most commonly used by coyote hunters is the wail of a wounded rabbit.

Speculation is the rabbit in distress calls work so favourably is twofold:

1) Rabbits are very vocal when injured.

2) Rabbits are so numerous they constitute a large percentage of a coyote’s diet.

My initial attempts at calling were not very productive. A small number of ‘yotes came to the call but infrequently. Most sightings were no more than fleeting glimpses at far-off dogs that failed to commit to the temptation of a free and easy meal. And so it went for a few years.

And then by a chance meeting I met a man named Joe Bradshaw who manufactures and sells the Scream’n Demon line of calls    http://www.arkyyoter.net/ . Joe and his son are also passionate predator callers. It’s been said that Joe could call a starving coyote off a meat truck ! 

 In a good year Joe may kill as many as 40 song-dogs with his calls. A wise coyote hunter will heed his words. His calls are reasonably priced, attractive, and most importantly they work well (www.arkyyoter.com) .

When I purchased one of Joe’s calls I picked his brain for as much info as I could get. I told him my experience was near zip - a mere rookie. I asked him for some basic calling 101 tips and techniques . The following is a quote from one of Joe’s emails .

“Roger…… Maybe someday I can come up and hunt with ya…if I ever get rich Until then….I will throw a few things at ya…As a new hunter, I think it easiest and best to always call/face downwind….90% will circle and come in with the wind in their face….later you can use that by hunting a little differently, but for now I would say face downwind….If you have a decoy, put it out 30-35 yards quartering away from you, the idea is when he comes in to not be looking directly at you….

It was then that I realised more than one dog was hunting the crippled rabbit (me) . More coyotes were heard approaching my way . In all 4 coyotes ghosted past me. A bit un-nerving really. Especially when sitting on the ground - eye to eye so to speak.

The coyotes, in point of fact, came from behind and passed close by me halting 20 yards in front of me. One ‘yote was visibly bigger than the other three.

I rolled to my knees, nocked an arrow, drew the bow , took meticulous aim and let fly. The cedar arrow flickered through the sun mottled forest and thwacked home with authority. The big coyote flipped but regained his feet and was off in a split second.

The coyote sprinted for an easy hundred yards. Farther than a deer or bear would have made it in my estimation. I was elated to have taken a big male coyote.

Cursed and loathed by many hunters and farmers, the coyote receives little hunting pressure. I view them as more of another chance to get out hunting. As far as a worthy adversary ; they are very cunning and difficult to tag. I expect in the coming years more hunters will take part in this exciting form of hunting.

Calling coyotes (or any animal for that matter) is truly a heart pounding situation. Watching a full grown coyote bare down on your precise location while your butt is planted on the cold damp ground is something that must be experienced to fully appreciate .

Grab a call and give it a whirl….I think you’ll be glad you did when that first song-dog hit the dirt in front of you.

Slipping gently out the camp’s back door and into the damp air and velvety cover of the pre-dawn darkness was reward enough for rising so early I immediately decided. Just a hint of decomposing autumn leaves to tingle my olfactory senses and the melodious gushing of a nearby brook seemed to set my hunters heart in harmony with the environment.

Somewhere down river a coyote serenaded a farewell to the murkiness of another eve’s hunt. Dawn would soon be arriving in it‘s ritualistic manner. In an peculiar way, it was soothing to know I wasn’t the only hunter nomadically roaming the river valley. I wondered how the song-dog fared with his hunting - and indeed - how would I ?

Reaching the end of the dew soaked field a verdict had to be reached on which path to take. To the east, down to the river where a carefully hung tree stand awaited over a well used trail which outwardly appeared to ramble aimlessly through a quarter acre of alders? But I knew it led to where the deer spent their days avoiding detection.

The other option was to ascend the steep hill which compromises the Western Ridge of the valley? Up where the deer’s movements have not been as painstakingly patterned as where the comfortable aluminium stand hangs in a large cat spruce?

Seconds turn to minutes…..a decision must be made. The Eastern horizon is beginning to turn crimson…a pair of Black Ducks whistle overhead…squirrels and songbirds begin to chatter. My heart quickens it‘s pace.

Quietly setting down my recurve….I remove the heavy wool sweater I had on in anticipation of sitting for several hours and turn towards the ridge. The lure of the unknown, of roaming over that steep hardwood hill was strong and I succumbed to it’s influence.

Today I would hunt as my father, and forefathers. This day, I would practice the time proven art of still hunting and if lucky, the opportunity to attempt a stalk on an unsuspicious buck.. A monumental task at best. Complicated by the traditional bow I was using. The need, no wait - responsibility - to get especially close would be the principal factor to overcome if I was to release one of my cherished cedar arrows made for me by my son..

Climbing the hill, the lack of deer sign is discouraging. I stopped for a rest while watching a Grouse search for it‘s breakfast. It’s a big cock bird and in just a few days he will be fair game for one of my arrows. But for now the season is closed and so rightfully he is spared. The longer I watch…the more I realize just how magnificently beautiful those game birds are.

The hardwood ridge is at long last within sight. For many years the deer have travelled this secluded ridge top. More often than not, a scrape line appears about mid November. Usually buck rubs scar the trees.

On this day however, there is no scrape line. No rubs. I think back to past hunts, on this very ridge, that I’ve shared with my father. I recall with fondness the many deer we drug off that rim together and long for another successful hunt with him and wonder where all the deer have gone. I double check the wind and head to another area.

Sorry to report that I didn’t clobber a big ol gobbler.  The birds were plentiful but oddly quiet and call/decoy shy.  We gave it our best shot and hunted hard til noon every day.  Close on a couple of occaissions but couldn’t close the deal.

 Still, all in all it was an outstanding 3 days and I look forward to next spring.

just a little clip to use as a test

http://skinnymoosemedia.com/view_video.php?viewkey=0ae62e3b1396831a8398

http://skinnymoosemedia.com/view_video.php?viewkey=5a2e075a1a4a6e1b9770

click to enlarge

Hey all…just took a break from packing up the truck and heading South for a few days turkey hunting with  NWO ( http://emainehosting.com/MaineGuidedHunts/ )  . This year I will be using a shotgun as I have a damaged shoulder and unable to shoot my trusty recurve.

 Just wanted to let you know that I’d be a way from the blog for a few days.  But when I’m home I’ll start back at it again.

 I would love some direction….do you like longer article type posts or simpler (shorter) posts.

I’s like to do a series of “how to” articles…such as maby setting up a baitsite and follow it thro to a successful hunt.

Again, it’s whatever those who read this desire.  If I can…I’d like to have a few video clips to accompany these posts.

Anyways…back to packing…..till I return…keep your chin in the wind !