In the book “Traditional American Wild Turkey Hunting,” first published in 1914, author Edward A. McIlhenny wrote, “I have attempted in this work to cover the entire history of this very interesting and vanishing game bird …”
What a shame McIlhenny can’t be around today. He would tip his fedora in the direction of the nearest National Wild Turkey Federation (NWTF) chapter and thank the many men and women who have worked tirelessly to restore the bird Benjamin Franklin believed should grace our money, maybe a flag here and there and most certainly the presidential seal. It’s true. As a national symbol, the bald eagle wasn’t the unanimous choice of the Founding Fathers.
During the early portion of the 20th century, the words “vanishing game birds” were properly applied by McIlhenny. Over-hunting, poor conservation practices and spotty enforcement of game laws were responsible for slowly pushing the bird to the brink of extinction. Even three decades ago, you had to sit a long time in the woods to catch a glimpse of one of these wily creatures around here.
That was then. Now it’s a whole new deal. Just a few weeks ago, one of our readers, Glenn A. Ross, sent us photos of a wild turkey hen reposing on his fence and on the ground of his backyard in Franconia.
As little as three days ago, the woman whose name appears next to mine on joint income tax returns whispered insistently I should look out the sliding door that leads to the woods behind our home. There, in all her glory, stood a wild turkey hen with five smaller birds that appeared to be yearlings. She cautiously peeked up and down the deep draw that separated our house from her and the younger birds, but then she and the rest strutted about, pecking at pine seeds and freshly emerging green undergrowth.
Now add my brother-in-law, Ted, who lives in Floyd County, Va. — west of the Blue Ridge — and who at any given time while chatting on the phone will say things like, “As we’re talking, there are at least nine wild turkeys in my front field, and a big gobbler has just waltzed past our woodshed.” And Ted has never been the type to show off.
The success story of bringing back these magnificent birds is one of grand cooperation among the national NWTF headquarters in Edgefield, S.C., dozens of NWTF chapters and hard-working state wildlife biologists from New Mexico to New England and from Mississippi to Minnesota. Everybody helped.
The result: Even down in Charles County where I live — a place better known for tobacco farms and bass fishing — I see wild turkeys almost daily. Add also Calvert and St. Mary’s counties, where some of my friends live, and Virginia’s Loudoun County, where I’ve spent many happy hours hunting deer. Everywhere I go, people swear they’re up to their elbows in wild turkeys.
With the spring turkey hunting season already open in Virginia and Maryland’s to start April19, let’s take stock of needed hunting equipment.
In my case, all I need is a camouflaged 12-gauge (3-inch chamber) shotgun, a box of 10 No.4 shot shells (I’ll never use them all this year), hat, face net, thin gloves, shirt, jacket, pants and boots — all in camouflage patterns.
My turkey hunting pal, Bob Rice, will hunt a stretch of woods in St. Mary’s County.
“The birds readily circulate onto and off the property,” he said. “We try not to over-hunt them to the point where they might permanently relocate. But my favorite hunting is done in Garrett County, in Western Maryland, where I seek the highest grounds I can find. There I generally locate at least one trophy gobbler’s strutting lane on or near the summits. I use a Remington Special Purpose Model 1187, 12-gauge, 3-inch magnum in Trebark camouflage. I use Premium Turkey copper-plated shot, and I load the gun in sequence of shot sizes. The first round will be Number6 shot, the second Number5, the last being Number4. That way if follow-up shots are required, the heavier pellets will prevail even as distances increase.”
While Bob is in St. Mary’s County, I’ll hide in a brush blind near my home in Charles County. There will be a couple of hen turkey decoys set up in a small clearing that is surrounded by hardwoods and underbrush. A friend will make the come-hither sounds of a lovesick hen turkey with a roof-of-the-mouth diaphragm yelp call or a striker box call.
If the gods of hunting forgive all past offenses, they will allow a pompously strutting gobbler, his head back, chest outrageously extended, a grand “beard” stiffly dangling from his breast, to walk within shooting distance.
• Look for Gene Mueller’s Outdoors column Sunday, Wednesday and Thursday, only in The Washington Times. E-mail: gmueller@washingtontimes.com
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