It had all the elements of a perfect hunt: clear skies, just cool enough to move around comfortably, no other hunters for miles, me there with listening to my quarry making breeding declarations in the dark, but I digress.
I feel sorry for Clive Rooney. I called to invite Clive to join an interagency discussion with federal and state government wildlife and lands managers and in the process, we ended up talking hunting, spring turkey hunting specifically. Without prompting from me, Clive revealed that the turkey hunting in the Breaks was a considerably better prospect than seeking them in the Judith Mountains around Lewistown, the origin of the first wild turkey transplant in the state. Given this initial revelation, I used gleaned tidbits from my work with the area FWP biologist's proposal for a now-failed habitat acquisition and followed my own instincts to investigate further. I suggested where I thought would be good turkey hunting north of Winifred, even describing a section of state land on a what shall remain nameless ridge, which was met by silence on Clive's end. He replied "that's where I hunt!"...!!! The next morning he gave me a tail feather from the wild turkey Tom he collected that same afternoon after our conversation on the very same ridge discussed. Still when I headed there, I felt like I had used Clive unfairly even if he really didn't offer up any information voluntarily.
So, here I was, a year later. At 5AM I left our camp by the PN Bridge, or Judith Landing, as known to the floaters of the White Cliffs region of the Upper Missouri River Breaks National Monument and our Upper Missouri Wild and Scenic River, headed for my ridge some 40 miles distant. Not knowing exactly what I was doing, I had never hunter there, I depended upon some long, although untested, skills of spring gobbler hunting. I made the turn onto the road and stopped about 1/2 mile further to listen. Amidst the overwhelming symphony of mourning doves cooing their morning calls, off in the distance I heard the first gobble. Ah, they are here! It was a very cool spring and normally my May 3rd date could be too late to find active turkeys, but as it were, they had barely begun their yearly ritual. Since I was mostly just exploring, I traveled stopping at each ridge top, listening and successfully locating more than a dozen birds, exhibiting their ardor vocally.
As I crossed the cattle guard on the exact state section where Clive hunted the year before, I spooked 3 hen turkeys; I had not only heard turkeys talking, now I had seen some as well, and the fact that no-one was anywhere to be seen made the day that much more special. I saw them again after I headed afield trying to locate my prey; only male turkeys are legal game in the spring season.
I returned to camp feeling very content that this just might work. I had hunted turkeys off and on for 40 years, some years more seriously than others, but always unsuccessfully. Had a fleeting opportunity to take a bird one time way back in Pennsylvania in the late 1970s, then the following year, had the misfortune of having my hunting buddy shot in the face while we were turkey hunting nearby, which put a damper on our enthusiasm and my turkey hunting waned accordingly. Exactly 30 years later after a few half-hearted attempts at spring gobbler hunting, I decided it was time to try again.
The next morning, I repeated the previous day's ablutions, and found myself on the same ridge, but today the gobblers seemed even more excitable. I set up my calling station on the edge of a drop not 200 yards from a loud male, but he became quiet. Sitting there I heard the sharptail grouse below me dancing their own spring ritual courtship in the emerging wildflowers; it's no wonder that native peoples used this prancing as an example to follow for their own demonstrations!! There were turkeys calling off in the distance but none too close. I had waited too late to get into the field I suspect.
Returning to my vehicle, I met up with the rancher who leased the State land I had just hunted. This very accommodating gentleman even confirmed the turkeys where I saw them a day earlier and added that three gobblers frequented that meadow almost every day. Sure enough, I crossed the cattle guard and off in the distance three gobblers were puffed up, fanning their tailfeathers to the two hens who seemed oblivious to their affections. I again set up my turkey hen decoy and began to call from 150 yards away trying to get the big boys attention, to no avail. I suppose I'll need more practice before next year.
The actual kill was a bit anti-climactic. I left the gobblers to their strutting, and sat watching them 200 yards distant from the road. Nearby I almost missed seeing the two yearling males, called Jakes, performing their own unique form of spring play, intertwining their necks in a faux battle; strange to see but interesting none-the-less. Once they went over the ridge, I knew my opportunity had come to harvest my very first turkey. A short stalk followed and soon it was done, I had taken my very first turkey!
The source of my qualified regret was that I had not called them to me, but a legal turkey is a legal turkey and I was tickled to finally succeed after a long journey. The pictures were sent around to my friend with the 9 shotgun pellets in his face and neck; he was pleased to get the news. My lady friend and I then enjoyed the frosting on this hunting-trip cake when I roasted this bird and discovered we really enjoyed this as a meal, justifying my spring-time endeavor.
Wild turkeys are not the first game species you think of when you regard the monument's hunting opportunities. Afterall, record book bighorn rams have come out of that country every other year since the Monument was proclaimed and elk and mule deer abound; very good confirmation for the advocates for the Monument distinction. It truly is a monument to our western history, the resiliency of the ranchers working the difficult lands and succeeding, and to the legacy of the hunters and anglers who along with the ranchers nurtured the wildlife in the area and now as conservationists recognizing its potential. Friends members confirmed to me before I headed out that wild turkeys frequent several areas of the Monument: Woodhawk, Whiskey Ridge, Cow Creek, Power Plant but you'll hafta find your own. If I told you where I was hunting, I'd hafta shoot ya!... and I like you, so we'll leave it at that.