Trains, Thunderstorms and Tow Ropes

Walking along train tracks and crossing old, worn down "bridges" parallel to train trestles, caused memories of younger years to come flooding back, where careless teenagers gave in to the temptation to jump from trestles into a river below. A whistle sounds in the distance, breaking the silence of the morning and giving warning of an approaching train. We journey on, making tracks to reach the top pasture before daybreak. Being careful to open and close the gate quietly, we cross over into the designated pasture. A gesture that almost seems laughable considering the screeching train that has just rumbled down the tracks above.

This was just one of the sequence of events from our recent turkey hunt in Kansas that will remain embedded in my mind. Memories of younger years somehow clashed with the present, as I remember the joy of being a carefree teenager, daydreaming in pastures, throwing rocks into a river below, and walking by train tracks. Now, this sequence of events, will cause new memories to come flooding back as Spring approaches each year. Memories of a recent turkey hunt. A hunt that ended with me shooting my first turkey.
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This is the story of trains, thunderstorms and tow ropes ...
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Earlier this year, Troy and I were invited to come with our friend Jeff and hunt his family's property in eastern Kansas. On Friday afternoon, as close of business rolled around, I was out of the office door at 5:00 on the dot. The guys were waiting for me at the house with a loaded down truck full of turkey decoys, shot guns, bows, blinds, etc. A weekend of hunting memories was waiting on us and we were anxious to start writing that story. As the highway miles added up, stories of previous road trips were easily recalled. Jeff, Troy and I have known each other for awhile; days of Chris Ledoux, rodeos, and bull riding had brought us together years ago, but this road trip was leading us to a different kind of rodeo. Now the entry fee to play only cost the price of a turkey tag.

Upon arriving at the ranch late Friday night, we stepped out of the truck, took a deep breath of country air, which smelled like grass, blooming trees and cow feed all jumbled together. The cattle lingered next to the feeding trough, as the moonlight shone down on them. Someone closed their truck door just loud enough for a turkey roosted in a nearby tree to shock gobble in response. Our hearts skipped a beat, and moon beams danced off lit up eyeballs.

Upon arriving at the ranch late Friday night, we stepped out of the truck, took a deep breath of country air, which smelled like grass, blooming trees and cow feed all jumbled together. The cattle lingered next to the feeding trough, as the moonlight shone down on them. Someone closed their truck door just loud enough for a turkey roosted in a nearby tree to shock gobble in response. Our hearts skipped a beat, and moon beams danced off lit up eyeballs.

Introductions to Jeff's family were made and stories rolled off tongues, as thick as the mud kicked off our boots, collected from the short trek in from the truck to the back door.  Guns, whiskey, brands, hunting ... on and on it went. By now, it was well past midnight and the roosted turkey in the tree just outside the door was still on my mind. I gave in and called it a night. I think the guys stayed up until well past 2:00 AM before crawling into bed.

We all moved a little slower than anticipated in response to the 5:00 wake-up call on Saturday morning. As a result, when we attempted to make our way into the first tree line in the pasture across the road from the ranch house, the turkeys beat us to it. We were caught and decided to carefully set up our decoys in Steve's front yard! We laughed at how funny this looked and also chuckled because all night Steve had been teasing us about the fact that a big 'ol Tom kept visiting his garden; therefore, hanging out on the porch might be the best idea instead of going out and doing all this "hunting stuff." We ended up watching three huge Toms cross the back of the pasture as they chased a couple hens through the tree line. They apparently weren't interested in picking corn seed out of Steve's garden that morning.

The rest of the day, we chased those darn turkeys all around the ranch. Convinced that it wasn't all for naught, we made ourselves feel better and decided we now have a good feel for lay of the land, and figured out the turkey's routine. In all honesty, we laughed a lot at ourselves at all the mistakes we made, and the fact that we could give great advice on how not to turkey hunt. There's a lot we could have done better, but that's part of the experience and fun of the hunt.

For example ...

We decided after a few unsuccessful set ups, it would be smart to try splitting up and increasing our odds. Jeff headed to the North, while Troy and I made our way to the South. Not long after Troy and I nestled into the tree line, we saw several turkeys feeding in the next pasture. They eventually moved on and we were left wondering if we should circle back and move to a different location. As we turned around, there was Jeff, walking down the ravine headed our way. Up above him, out of his view, were several turkeys walking along the ridge. I motioned to Troy to alert Jeff that turkeys were up above him. Jeff was oblivious. Finally Troy stood up and motioned for Jeff to stop. However, he then proceeded to perform a turkey dance mixed with random hand signals to alert Jeff. Troy's re-enactment had me rolling! There was Troy, trying to keep Jeff from spooking the turkeys, yet he was flapping his arms, squatting like a turkey and putting his hand on his chest, moving it up and down, which I could only guess meant that one of the turkeys had a tow rope hanging from his chest. Where was the video camera for this impromptu turkey charade moment in the woods?!

As we finally laid our heads down on Saturday night, rolling thunder in the distance lulled us to sleep. However, not even thunderstorms looming in the distance could keep us from jumping out of bed the next morning. We learned our lesson the previous day and were ready to get in the woods well before sun up. Adding to the excitement was the fact that we'd put a turkey to bed the night before. In fact, we tore down our blinds and reset them up in the dark to get in the best position for the morning. That was an experience in itself!  As the storm kicked up, I started to worry a bit if perhaps finding a storm shelter might be a better idea then huddling in a blind. At the first crack of thunder, we quickly learned that we were tucked in our blinds almost directly under not one, but several roosted turkeys. The storm kicked up, along with the crescendo response of the thunder / gobble chorus echoing through the turkey woods, followed with an exclamation point of lightening after each interlude. Eventually the turkeys flew down from their roost and as the storm raged, all we could hear and see was rain pounding down around us.

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Once the storms past, we regrouped and decided to head to the top pasture later that afternoon. A lazy river flowed through a deep ravine, below us. We guessed that the turkeys that disappeared in far pasture yesterday, flew up to this secluded pasture above, a corner pocket of land, tucked next to the train tracks and out of view from the nearest road. The plan worked because after a short calling sequence, the first turkey snuck in on us. Again, cue up the "how not to turkey hunt" instructions because we were reading straight out of that play book!  

​For some reason we second guessed our set up, and after placing the decoys in the open pasture above, we decided to face the section of land that stretched to the ravine below. Yes, you read that correctly. We were not facing our decoys. Turkey hunting basics 101 ... face your decoys! Anyway, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. My peripheral vision picked up four young Toms making their way RIGHT THROUGH our decoys, only 20 yards from where we were sitting. (Stop laughing. Okay - laugh. We already have.) I slowly tried to switch positions and get my shot gun pointed at the biggest Jake, but they kept moving away with the same speed as my shot gun. By the time Jeff realized what was going on, they were on his side of the tree, but now Troy was right in the middle between Jeff and the turkeys. Jeff slowly moved into position, waiting for the turkeys to make their way safely past Troy. From my angle, all I could see was turkeys behind Troy and Jeff eyeing the turkeys walking behind Troy. I kept whispering loudly ... "Don't shoot Troy! Jeff, don't shoot my husband!" Troy simply covered his ears and mouthed the words, "#$%!"(Well, I can't repeat exactly what he said.) The turkeys didn't read the cue cards, or maybe they did, because they continued right up the hill behind Troy, never giving Jeff a safe shot on the other side of Troy.

Our Monday morning hunt brought with it hopes of not going home empty handed. We had one more chance before throwing in the towel. We decided we wanted revenge on the turkeys that snuck up on us the day before. This time, Jeff and I sat against the same tree. I had an 180 degree view of one side, and Jeff had the other 180 degrees covered. Not long after settling in, four turkeys made their way along the ridge on Jeff's side of the tree. It was a different group of turkeys than yesterday - all shooters! He was able to pull off a 40+ yard shot and dropped the biggest turkey of the group. For the first time, I got to see up close how big these birds really are. It was my first time experiencing a turkey kill. What an amazing medley of ugly and beautiful ~ truly an amazing animal!

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Jeff's 2014 KS Rio
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A mixture of emotions washed over me as we left the ranch that Monday. I was thrilled to have had a chance at a turkey, experienced the joy of being with Jeff as he shot his first multiple-beard turkey, and once again enjoyed the thrill of the hunt. However, I'll admit that I was sad to have an unpunched turkey tag safely tucked in my pocket once again. 

Fast forward to a few weeks later.  An impromptu weekend hunt was about to unfold ...

Troy finagled a last-minute trade, allowing him to get the weekend off.  We were headed back to Kansas for a quick Sat / Sun hunt. This time, I was able to sneak out of work a little earlier on Friday, which allowed us to roll into the ranch as the sun was slipping down over the horizon. Once again, a turkey was roosted right across the road from the ranch house. However, this time everyone knew that once the 5:00 alarm went off, we had to make tracks and get set up before the first crack of dawn. By the time the sun slowly swept across the horizon, we were already nestled against the bases of trees, waiting for the first gobble. Almost on cue, a chorus of gobbles and clucks filtered down from the trees above. Then, not long after... flap, flap, swoosh, and we were watching turkeys make their way into the field below. The only problem ... they flew down into the neighbor's 80 acres that we didn't have permission to hunt on. So we waited and hoped the turkeys would make their way towards us and cross over the fence.

After a while they slipped out of our line of vision. Jeff cautiously made his way to the fence to see if they were still in the field and if we could move up the fence line to put us in better position, if they crossed over. A tree stand made for a quick way to scope out the situation. Sure enough the Tom and his hens were on the Northern edge, and he was strutting around showing off for the ladies. Jeff grabbed the decoys and whispered, "Let's get this bird!" Careful to stay close to the ground, we worked our way up the pasture, dodging fresh cow pies. Troy was left with the camera in the last section of cover, while Jeff and I crawled onward. At the last bush along the fence line we watched and waited. Nerves almost got the best of me, as I watched through my Hawke sport optics and realized that the bird we were now chasing was probably the biggest one on the ranch. Jeff then looked at me, and smiled saying ...
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"This bird has a TOW ROPE! We are getting this turkey. 
I want him dead, and you are going to kill him!"

We sat and watched as he finally made his way back onto Steve's property, maybe a 100 yards off. At one point we thought we might be able to pull him off his hens, as he cautiously looked our way, but then proceeded to cut away from us to the edge of the property. As Mr. Tow Rope proceeded to head towards the road, Jeff got excited. I was confused. The conversation went something like this ...

"Here's the plan, Emily:  We are going to RUN back to the house, get permission to hunt the neighbor's property across the road, unload our shot guns, pile in the car, drive over there and cut this turkey off. I want this bird dead. I'm tired of him messing with us. It's going to work."

I smiled and promptly replied, "You're crazy, Jeff. That's not going to work, but it sounds fun. Let's try it!"

Troy simply hook his head as we grabbed the decoys and ran through the pasture.

Upon reaching the house, we were a sweaty mess. I made quick time of unloading my gun, tossing gear in the trunk and climbing in the back of the back seat of the car, placing my now cow-pie laden boots strategically on the floor mats. Within seconds, Jeff was running from the house with a smile now spreading from ear to ear, giving away the good news ... permission granted!

The plan was coming together. I am not starting to believe this might actually work. As we drove down the road, those turkeys had pitched over to the field below and were working towards the tree line. We drove on ahead and piled out about 100 years in front of them. Troy whipped out the video camera, as Jeff and I quickly loaded shot guns. I grabbed my heads up decoy, knowing that Mr. Tow Rope would not like another Tom messing with his girls. I glanced back to see both Jeff and Troy simultaneously motion for me to go for it, except they both wanted me to belly crawl. On the side of the road. What? That is not happening. I figured if I couldn't see the turkeys yet, then they couldn't see me. I opted to duck walk up the road to keep my profile low. In my mind, I was thinking, "Oh dear Lord, I really hope that a car doesn't drive by about now." I'm sure I looked hilarious, but I didn't care. If hilarity meant a dead bird in a few minutes, I was okay with that. Shot gun in one arm and decoy in the other, with my butt low to the ground, I waddled as fast as possible up the side of the road. As I reached the edge of the pasture, I knew it was time to start belly crawling, down the ditch and up to the ledge. As I crested the ledge, through the weeds, I could see "Tow Rope" about 60-70 yards off ... strutting his stuff.

Then I heard, "Putt!" and a hen's head pops up within a few feet of where I'm laying.  "Putt, putt"

Going through my head about now is the thought, "Oh Emily ... either make something happen quickly or you are about to get busted!!"

Mrs Put Putt's boyfriend is now starting to get nervous and begins to walk away. I slowly raise up the Heads Up decoy to get his attention. Boy did it ever! He took one look at the Tom right next to his hen and got all kinds of upset. He turned, and proceeded to walk towards me in a huff. I then realized I had a Tom coming my way fast and it was time to put the decoy down and get the gun up. Bead on the head ... Boom! As soon as my gun went off and I saw "Tow Rope" take a nose dive in the dirt, I dropped my gun and ran as fast as I could into the ditch by the road. I had just killed my first turkey and it was a big one!
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Mr. Tow Rope is dead.

Shout out to Heads Up Decoy - pulled in my first turkey nicely!

1 1/4 inch spur and 1 inch spur (tip was broken off 2nd spur)

Emily's first turkey - Kansas Rio
Beard = 11 1/2 inches