I've been trying to write this post all week. I've run through the season's hunts and tried to make the excuses and assumptions that I scolded myself for making all year. One thing that I hate to do is blame factors out of my control for a poor season. I hate allowing myself to become frustrated with something as simple as hunting. Something that has brought me more joy than anything in the world. The one thing that I can call a passion beyond obsession.

But this season I became frustrated. With the birds. I even caught myself wondering why I even tried. Why I got up early and walked 12 miles up and down the Devil's ridges on a knee that was who knows what kind of screwed up from chasing gobbles that never happened. And it pains me to think like that but I let it happen and I am becoming comfortable with that fact.

There were reminders of the good stuff. Like the whippoorwill that let me stand three feet away and wonder if I should pet it. The hens I chatted with who taught me more of the language. That morning with the mist hanging in the hardwoods and the Red Efts that always steal a grin from me. Chatting with those fellows I met in The Middle of Nowhere, National Forest who I truly hope to meet up with again in the future. Turkey Camp 2016 and that picture of my family and friend who have given me this spark and continue to fan the flame. When I tried to get the kid to sit still as his possible first ever gobbler closed the distance from the roost to 60 yards, only to realize that he was shaking so violently that still was impossible.





I learned things. Lots of things. New territory. New friends. I nicknamed my first bird. Two birds. I was reminded, as ever, that the turkey will always show you the mistakes you made to screw up a hunt. Always. That woodsmanship and knowledge of the area trump all other skills in the turkey woods.

I had two opportunities this season that I would call "close". The first on a bird I nicknamed Hartfield, who dominated a spot in the National Forest that kicked my butt every time I went in there. I hunted this bird five or six times and, once, I should have killed him. But I got too close on my approach and then lost my patience, which allowed him to slip in and pick up the other hen, instead of me, while I had moved position.

The other was the last day of the season with my new buddy who just turned 16. We finally got the chance to hunt the private farm in Franklin County and had zero luck roosting a bird, which was hardly surprising taking the season into account. The bird gobbled his face off and the kid was eating it up. The bird closed the distance and I realized the kid was shaking harder than I was. Without the creek in the way, we would have killed that bird. If we had scouted and known the terrain and the property lines, we would have been on the other side of the creek and there would have been no barrier between red, white and blue head and the kid's 12 guage. But thats the way the cookie crumbles. Next year.

This last encounter might have been the most rewarding. This is the first season I have taken a new hunter into the turkey woods. I know many, if not most, of you have had this experience, so I don't need to explain how good it felt to see the kid so worked up and the smile on his face. It was flat out exhilarating, and I never touched my gun.

So yes, I was frustrated. I still kind of am. I didn't kill a turkey for the first time in four years, and that is a really tough pill to swallow. But I spent thirteen days in the woods this spring, and seven of those were not as the primary shooter. I couldn't be more thankful to have had that kind of time to spend afield or more honored to have "guided" those folks, one of which was my father. Days spent, in any fashion, with good people in beautiful country have no comparison.

I have been saying this much of the season, but it is the only real scape goat for my frustrations: This was not a hunter's year. The turkeys won, fair and square, by rarely talking and responding to calls even less. It wasn't the weather or the predators or Obama or even Trump. Populations were high. The birds were there. It just wasn't a good year to be a turkey hunter.

Or was it?

I have been fairly absent this season in my congratulations for those who posted their successes, for which I apologize. But a round of applause is due for all of you who were able to kill a bird or three. I have heard of very few "easy birds" taken this season, so those who killed had to work to best the beast. Many congratulations to you all!

Per the advise Freddy is always extending and my undying desire to learn about turkeys, I have purchased a few books on the bird to further improve my knowledge and, hopefully, think more like a turkey. I have read a few Tom Kelly books, already, and a topic that he chimes on regularly seems to fit the bill for this season.

Tom talks about two different seasons, of the over seventy he has hunted, in which turkeys didn't gobble much, if at all, the entire season. He says that the frustrations of hunters drew comments and suggestions like, "The damn coyotes" and "The seasons need to be moved" and "We need to preserve whats left of these diminishing populations". In the end, Kelly states, the following seasons and the seasons after that were back to "normal". He says that he is OK with a season like that once every quarter century, as he observed. He says that, when all is said and done, its just turkeys being turkeys.

Regardless of frustrations, its been a fun ride. Here's to looking forward to next time.

Best,
Royce

Very well written! I know a lot of turkey killers experiencing the very same frustration you have written about this year, it starts to wear on one's confidence after a while. If there is an upside to a spring season like this, it's that there should be a bumper crop of gobbling birds next April.

Great write up. It was a tough one for us as well. Hopefully next year will be better but if not a lot of turkey hunters will quit and that will just make more spots available for us who keep at it. Always a positive to every situation.

Been weird up here too. Called a couple in for friends but have had a lot of oddities. There is always next year.

Vic

Well written my friend. Nice Pics too. It was a tough year but remember even when frustrated it is the experience. Next year when your stepping on some neck it will be that much better !

Royce,
If it's any consolation your co-worker Drew has half of a breast of one of my birds in his freezer.
Invite yourself over to dinner---he's a good cook!

I really think you could write a book just of your complied seasons. It was a tough season, It seemed like I was taking and guiding this year more than usual which is not a bad thing. First year in I think 5 or 6 I didn't tag out ad well.

Thanks, fellas!

VaLongbeard: I just got invited over for a dinner! Thanks for saving me from going a year without eating wild turkey! I was talking with Drew about your season and thought that I had read about what he told. It is nice to put a name to a forum name. You certainly had an awesome year! I think we would all like to see that video you spoke of! Congratulations, sir!

BeardBuster: I still have the dream of tagging out on spring birds. I keep telling myself I will go hunt fall birds, and truly want to, but the idea of not having that third tag in the spring if the opportunity arose to kill three birds nags me a bit harder than I'd like. So, I have eaten one or two tags every year for the past four. Maybe this year I'll hunt fall birds. Maybe not...
Sorry you didn't get all three this year, but you certainly have something to be proud of for killing any, at all, this season!

Next season will be better. I think we will all tag out

Best,
Royce

Heck of a write up!