Davy’s Challenge
It was just like Alan Davy stated in his recent Outdoor Canada article “The Silent Treatment.”
“Once you get a gobble, you’ve got a turkey hunt. But when it seems as though every tom in the woods has his beak tied in a knot, you’ve got a turkey-hunt challenge instead.”
It was the second half of April and the hills surrounding Trail, BC, had already started greening under the warm spring sun. And the fist evening of my trip had provided plenty of promise and anticipation of a successful hunt. After checking into the hotel, I’d taken a quick run out to the property where I normally hunt in the ridges east of town to make a courtesy call on the landowner and, sure enough, in the last glow of evening, I could hear a couple of toms egging each other on mercilessly in preparation for roosting. This was going to be a cinch. All I had to do was get there before first light, set up in the meadow uphill from the roost tree and wait for things to start happening in the first blue grey light of day.
These feathers on the ground are as close as I got this year. Note the white fringe typical of the western Merriam's turkey.
An infallible plan in theory. Problem was there were no tell-tale lumps on the branches of the big, old poplar in the pre-dawn darkness the next morning. Nor in any of the surrounding trees. No turkey talk, no flop-flop of turkeys coming off the roost, just the laughter of robins and, as daylight flooded the ridge, the sound of flickers hammering their staccato greeting on powerline towers. From there on, the turkey hunt turned into Davy’s challenge. I travelled the powerline right of way, trying for a shock gobble with blasts from my peafowl call and later switched to cutts using a a diaphragm for volume. The latter triggered a distant gobble from just inside an off-limits property, but a gobble is a gobble and, with any kind of luck, I’d be able to sweet-talk the tom into range. Knowing that the birds sometimes come in like road runners, I hastily set up two decoys–two hens and a jake–and then hunkered in against the base of a pine, face camo pulled down. Not ideal, but a workable setup nonetheless. Switching to a slate call, I imitated the sound of a small content flock to reassure the tom and give him something to home in on. Good plan, except the tom must have been travelling with a flock of his own because the next time I heard him, he was even farther inside the off-limits property.
That was the last time I heard a tom turkey gobble for the next two days. Peafowl shock calls resulted in stony silence, crow calls did the same and my very best cutting hen call went completely ignored. Not that the toms had left the county. No they were there alright, thumbing their beaks. One dashed across the road on my way back to Trail for some lunch. Another came sneaking across an open field as I suited up for the afternoon hunt on the other side of the road. Both of us in the wide open without a hiding place in sight. At 50 yards, the bird stopped, took a good look at me and turned tail.
So what happened? Why did the birds develop a severe case of apparent lock jaw. Well Alan Davey suggests there are three reasons why they shut down. One is that the birds might be in the thick of their breeding season and the toms are being kept busy; another is that toms that have been recently trounced by a dominant bird are reluctant to call; the presence of predators might also silence them as does hunting pressure; wind, rain and snow will dampen their enthusiasm; and last but not least, in heavily hunted areas, some toms have learned that there’s a lot to be gained by sneaking in without so much as a whisper. I’m guessing that, while the hens might have been especially broody, the buffeting winds and cooler weather that rolled in through the high mountain passes early in the week may have had something to do with it.
Of course, that’s just a touch of bad luck since I’ve hunted the area of Trail for several years now both at the beginning of the season and at the end and, this year aside, regularly encounter enough birds to keep things interesting. Talking to the landowners in the immediate area where I hunt, they estimate that even with a slightly heavier winter kill than normal there are nevertheless upwards of 80 birds on the property and that’s more than enough to make for a good hunt. Provided the toms don’t have lockjaw.
Setting up a hunt in the area takes a bit of research. Conservation Officers in the area are one source of information, sporting goods dealers and members of the Trail Wildlife Association can also get you pointed in the right direction. You’ll find the people in the area warm, exceptionally friendly and always willing to help. Some of the better turkey habitat lies between Trail and Castlegar, but you’ll need to do some footwork because the best turkey country is farmland where permission is necessary–some farmers gladly let you hunt, others don’t want you to step foot on their property. The spring season lasts roughly from mid April to mid May with a second season in October. BC residents currently hunt by virtue of their basic hunting permit, no specific tags needed yet.
