BIL was on the east side of Camp Mountain and I took up a position on the south. The only gobbling I heard sounded like across the street from camp behind some houses. It wasn't long and a pack of song dogs quieted the turkeys right down. Did my usual walk down mountain to Bill's piece, a swing by the chicken farm and then back up the mountain to the wheeler. Absolutely nothing. No gobbles and very few scratchings of which were old. Heard one shot in the distance and a barrage of three from behind the chicken farm. Met up with BIL at 0700. He too heard nothing. We renamed the mountain "Dead Zone" went back to camp to lick our wounds and formulated a plan.
We have really been spoiled on the mountain the last few years. It has held a small but stable turkey population and the word, hunter interference, never made it to the camp dictionary. It was time to reach back into memories and come up with another hunting spot.
We chose Inch and a Half Hill. There has always been turkey out there. We weren't 100 yards down the road when we heard a hen yelping. Our loud obnoxious crow cawing was answered by a distant gobble. A gobble we just never could catch up too. That turkey was on the move. Our last set up ended by a gunshot in the birds direction. It was time now to get serious and invade the inner reaches of this vast hardwood forest.
Things change in the Maine woods. We hadn't hunted here is a few years. We learned very quickly the place had been logged sometime after 2009. It wasn't recent the ground was all firmed up. Personally I love to hunt turkey in these new forest openings but the turkey sign just wasn't there. We had an excuse for hearing no gobbling in that a 15 mph wind and a low forties temperature can dampen a gobblers spirits but the lack of sign was depressing.
I had found this old small center chimney foundation on a scouting trip years ago and marked it on my GPS. I knew we were in the area so I did a go to. That look in BIL's eyes says what he is thinking. What was it like to live out here so far in today's woods?
We were three quarters through our hunt when we hit the main trail back to the truck. I sent a series of yelps out against the back of a hardwood ridge that rises above a beaver pond. Gobble, gobble came back. Not from the ridge above the pond but behind us. A quick set up in the road with sexy Henrietta wind shifting her stuff produced no more gobbles. So we packed up and started a slow creep in the direction of the gobble.
On a rise above a couple acre clearcut I called. Gobble, gobble. BIL and I stood there a few minutes accessing the situation. When the next yelp hit the airways followed by an instant closer gobble we didn't need to talk. He was coming and we needed to set up.
There was no duel. I called, he gobbled and closed the distance very rapidly. I saw the light bulb head with a full tail fan behind it and knew it was game on. Then he went silent. One cluck revealed he was now to my right and with BIL to my left it was going to have to be a left hand shot for this right hand shooter. Thank goodness we never had to find out my left hand shooting skills as I saw the gobbler in full display come up the skidder trail we were set up on. I glanced at BIL and he was ready. As soon as I looked back at the gobbler.....BANG. The gobbler never twitched. It was over. 1128 AM and a bird was on the ground.
22 pounds, 10" beard and 3/4 " spurs. That is the clearcut behind BIL.
We took in the days events then loaded up the posse and headed back to civilization. This is the skidder trail he came up.
One down....three to go.
04-29-14 Maine
Started the day at the cuttings overlooking the Farm. First hoot at 0505 was answered by a gobble adjacent to the old homestead. Down through the chopping and across the bog, interrupted momentarily by a quill pig in the trail, I arrived at the old fields. Gobbler number one never said another word. In his place were two gobbling birds over looking the pasture.
Two turned to one gobbling. His tone had jake written all over it. Then silence. Topography is a turkey hunters ally. An end around brought me behind the barn with a view of the pasture. From behind the barn two adjacent windows provide a view of a small field. The image through the parallel windows revealed a glowing light and an uneven tail fan on a beeline to my position. The remnants of an old horse drawn hay rake were my shoulder width tree.
Around the corner came a hen. Our proximity measured in feet. During the heart beating uneven blood pressure event a jake stepped out closer than his date. My scorecard for Maine is 0% since 2009. So badly the leader board loomed. Instead of an attempted eagle the hammer closed down on a par. #1 dead jake walking.
Topography played everything with the remaining Farm hunt. The lack of turkey sign was silence. The abundance of drumming partridge already has this upland hunter looking months ahead.
04-30-14
BIL's recon Tuesday showed a lot of fresh turkey sign on the Sand Rd. Standing in recently raked over woods our dawn was only greeted by two very distant gobblers. Shoe leather was required to gain the elevation to our quarry.
We located the source in the first hollow, the tone once again said jake.
Henrietta enjoyed the daylight from the darkness of my vest and was looking pretty good at thirty yards downhill from our setup. Every cluck and every yelp were answered with enthusiasm from this gobbler with a mission. Until the last hundred yards when things went silent. When in Rome be a Roman. Two can play.
What was supposed to be a downhill shot changed quickly to an uphill shot as the gobbler circled higher than our position. We both spun one hundred an eighty on our trees now looking uphill. Minutes later in an opening in a stonewall above us no less ten yards distant out stepped a jake. Followed closely by his brother, followed closely by his brother. The safety was reengaged and now #2,3, and 4 are dead jakes walking.
Plan B was to explore Hidden Hill. Got there a tad late as this what we encountered in the parking spot.
This was their last day to hunt so they provided us Intel. Hidden Hill held birds. The sign was good in the hardwoods. We worked another bird in there for a couple hours. When it was evident he had a run in with super glue we advanced the Legion. Familiar topography gave us a good idea where this bird was cemented. We called from his location only to get busted by a silent jake.
Drumming partridge at the Sand Rd was logged into the memory book.
05-01-14
Day off due to heavy AM precipitation. Hunting alone tomorrow. Going to use the wheeler and start at the Sand Rd. Choosing a camp in this area of Maine has it perks. It is ATV friendly with multiple clubs that manage the trails. My WV of ME.
05-02-14
Parked the wheeler off the trail and headed back to the start of Tuesday's hunt. Heard only one way off gobble behind me and across the road. Hopped back on my ride and parked above the brook with a mountain in mind. Hiking up to start meant going back was downhill all the way.
While preparing for the hunt a gobble rang out in the hollow above me. The same place as Tuesday's jakes. His gobble broadcast jake. It had to be one we fooled with earlier. Ascending the main trail to the peak the jake came out of the hollow and stopped and gobbled in my path. He was on the move. He went to the right side of the summit as I did the push to the clouds. From my listening spot he continued to move and gobble freely. If you call what he spewed a gobble.
Back down the mountain thorough our Forth an Goal and Black Fly Jake spots without a word of turkey talk. Back to the truck at 0800. Plan B, The Money Field.
BIL was at the Money Field to start Tuesday morning. Heard only one in Boss Hollow but flushed 8-10 birds from the roost on his decent. Parked the wheeler below the field and went hunting.
This is the Money Field with Baxter in tow. Criteria June 2010
No birds were seen in the field. Standing in the trail above Boss Hollow I heard a bird gobble twice. He was down along the river. Set up one rise above him with Henrietta in full view.
He answered the first yelp and was on his way. Three times I had the hammer cocked as I could feel the gobbles. He would not commit. He walked right by me. As his gobbles started to get distant I knew where he was heading. Again mountain topography can be an asset. My end around put me behind a stone wall watching the gobbler strut his stuff.
Sometimes the gobble was good, others times poor. He was just to far away to tell if it was a jake or an adult fan. His gobbling eventually attracted a hen. When she was between me and the gobbler I yelped. That got him moving. Then like two ships in the night they walk right by each other. The hen to the field the gobbler now within range.
It was hammer time but only one thing was missing. A beard. I couldn't see one. No rope, nothing flapping in the wind. The hammer came back gently against the pin. He circle my position and stepped into an adjacent field. Silhouetted against the green grass was his beard. All four inches with a nasty crook. To top it off he turned and displayed. Uneven tail fan. Jake #5 walking dead. He was a Super Jake for sure and someday to become a stud.
05-03-14
Started our morning at Bill’s place just down the road from camp. We heard three gobbling from the roost. The one who continued to gobble on the ground sounded like a jake. As we closed the distance we could hear someone calling to him so we backed out and tried to find one of the other amigos. Our hunting area at Bill’s place is half NH and half Maine. We found another gobbling jake on the NH side. Called a little to him. He was interested but demanded we show ourselves first. No more gobbling was heard so we headed back to the truck and a breakfast of bacon and eggs at the local mom and pop.
Sunday on my way to camp I saw a group of displaying gobblers in a field alongside the road. You can see the lake from the road so there isn’t much room on that side. But the other side is blessed with three adjoining mountains. We parked off the beaten path and followed a very well marked skidoo trail up the mountain on the other side of the road. Our plan was to get above the roadside field and call. Man was that side mountain steep. No gobbling from the roadside and so we continued along the trail that took us deeper into the forest.
What a beautiful place we discovered. BIL called it an amphitheater. We were in the bowl of three mountains. A fresh turkey dusting bowl gave us hope. None of our calling was answered but we knew a turkey could hear us.
While not looking forward to climbing into this entertainment center again the lay of the land demands more reconnaissance.
And that ended our week at Maine Turkey Camp 2014. Thank you Lord for your multiple blessings bestowed on us from our pew in your church of the outdoors.
