Spring Turkey Part 2b: Filling Tag #2

Flush with confidence from my special hunt (that I’d gone and done it, not that I saw and conquered) I headed out Saturday morning to my friend’s property where just the Saturday before I had faced a long-beard with my crossbow and been deemed the victor. Because my labbie-girl was still on her vacation at Paws Inn I was able to prepare and eat a hearty breakfast before heading out, although I somehow still managed to run a bit behind schedule; indicating it is me, and not my labbie-girl, who causes my tardiness in the morning.

The weather report called for thunderstorms and scattered rain, but I did not let that deter me. Of course, by the time I got parked and began to get my gear out of my truck, the rain started. By the time I got my decoys up and sat myself down beside a tree, behind my Turkey Fan, the thunder and lightning showed up. Fortunately I had my son’s multicam rain jacket he’d left with me, when he and his wife left my place on their globe-trotting honeymoon (www.globalcrusades.net), and I dutifully put it on to avoid getting soaked.

By 6:30 I had started calling, again using my Turkey Thugs raspy old hen mouth call (from Quaker Boy) with inclusion of my Illusion wooden box call. The morning sky was colored hues of grey, indigo, blush and salmon, and streaked periodically with bolts of white light. I wasn’t sure if the gobblers would welcome my clucks, cackles and kee-kees given the storm, but by 7:00 a.m. I was rewarded for my efforts with the first response gobble. With my confidence boosted by the turkey repartee I continued to call out, using both forms of calling to entice the long-beards to investigate.

The rain came intermittently, causing just enough of a nuisance that I had to fuss over my Contour video camera, which was beside me on a tripod, and my mobile phone, which was attached to the bottom of my shotgun barrel with my Bow Mount mobile phone mount. But during those still moments, when the rain paused to give the clouds a rest, I reveled in the serenity of the morning. The atmosphere in my hunting spot was changed by the colors and energy of the storm, and it donned a magical appearance.

At about 7:15 a.m. I spied movement to my right and a hen had come in to find out who was making all the noise. I had hopes she would bridge the 10 yard gap between her and my decoys and make some noise of her own, to help draw any Toms in, but she opted to walk away unimpressed. Closer to 7:30 a.m. the gobbles got louder in response to my calls, and when I looked to my left toward the pond I saw three gobblers walking the sandy bank of the pond headed my way. They quickly approached my Primos Jake decoy, but only one Tom puffed out his chest and fluffed up his fan. As the other two walked just past my decoy, Mr. Tom pounced on it, knocking my Jake decoy partially out of the ground and scaring the other two long-beards. Mr. Tom seemed somewhat taken aback as well, perhaps hoping for more of a fight. He walked past my decoy and then turned back to look at the Jake, helplessly beaten down with one pounce. That’s when I aimed the front bead of my Mossberg 505 20 gauge shotgun at the back of Mr. Tom’s head and squeezed the trigger.

Now I know any regular shotgunners out there are probably beside themselves because I aimed my shotgun. In my defense, I’m primarily a rifle and handgun gal, and my use of a shotgun is minimal. So when I argued with myself over whether I should point with both eyes open and risk missing, or close one eye, aim the shotgun and hit my target… I naturally opted to hit my target. It was the first time I’d ever had the chance to harvest with my shotgun. In the past, turkeys have never shown up when I have my shotgun at the ready, and only when I have my Parker Challenger crossbow; which is why my lifetime record of turkey harvests up to that point (one hen and two long-beards) had been with my crossbow. My shotgun had finally been able to do its job. If it could smile, I know it would have.

This was also the first time, since I started hunting three years ago, that I filled my tags. Two tags, two turkeys. Albeit a very short hunt on Saturday, just one hour, it took hours upon hours of preparation; seven hours in Clay County the day before, and before that episode after episode of hunting shows, and much practice with my mouth calls to get any sound to come out, let alone a respectable turkey call. And as any hunter will tell you; it was well worth it!

As I went to inspect my harvest, hail started falling, followed by more rain. Taking photos with my prize was a bit of a challenge, but I managed a couple decent selfies, and then brought him up to my truck where I field dressed him to the bone. Most folks who hunt turkey say that only the breast meat on wild turkey is worth eating. I disagree. In my quest to achieve ethical hunting and pay homage to the bird who gave his life up for me, I take every bit of meat I can; breasts, legs, thighs, bits & pieces stuck to the bones, the liver and the heart. The breast meat I portion out and vacuum seal at home to create tender turkey breast steaks. The rest gets cleaned, trimmed and vacuum sealed for turkey stew in the crockpot. Once slow cooked, a dark tough leg is moist and very palatable. And turkey stew (stoup, as I call it; thicker than soup but thinner than stew) is a marvelous high protein meal on cold winter days.

That, my friends, is my spring turkey hunting story. From my crossbow harvest on Saturday April 8th to my shotgun harvest Saturday April 15th anticipation had been high, and I have come to truly appreciate the art of turkey hunting. In fact, I still have much to learn, and hope that, in the years to come, I’ll be able to make more out of a special hunt than I did yesterday. But for now; I am happy, I feel satisfied, and my freezer is well stocked with wild turkey. I can’t believe there was ever a time when I didn’t hunt; it is so much a part of who I am, and I feel my hunting birthright deep down in my soul.

Stay tuned for my adventures with predator hunting, coming soon. And check out my YouTube channel Gal HunterMidlife as I post my hunts and improve my videography along with my hunting skills… and please subscribe.

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Spring Turkey 2016: After the Hunt

The thing about hunting is; it doesn’t end after successfully harvesting an animal. A deer doesn’t drag itself to the hunter’s truck, a turkey doesn’t field dress itself, and fish (with regarding to fishing – which is really like water hunting) don’t gut themselves. Hunting is a process; enjoyable, but also time consuming.

Take for instance my harvested Tom during spring turkey hunting this weekend: Once my friend, John, and I got the turkey back to my truck and lowered the tailgate, I had easily 30 minutes’ worth of processing to do. Granted, a more skilled hunter would likely not take so long to field dress the turkey, and John was adamant that, had this been his bird, the remaining carcass would have become fodder for the yotes (that’s slang for coyotes in Kansas-speak) and such. Yet I was endeavoring to keep my cuts precise and minimize damage to the bird’s body because my intent was to take him to a taxidermist. I don’t know how to successfully remove the tail feathers without damaging the fan, so I wanted to insure I could deliver the entire turkey to the taxidermist Saturday morning.

In all honesty; my knives went dull sooner than expected while trimming the breast meat off, as I’d neglected to clean them and sharpen them after their last use. It also got dark quickly, making it difficult to see, and I became agitated with the mosquitoes feasting upon my neck while I worked; like the tiny little vampires they are.

I inadvertently cut through the Tom’s bowels while attempting to be thorough, thereby releasing putrid liquid, feces, and a horrific smell; all of which soaked my hands. This led John and I to bring the turkey over to his hose to wash him out, then placing the Tom in a heavy duty garbage bag for me to transport home and refrigerate until morning. To add insult to injury; the three new freezer bags I’d placed in my backpack, just for the purpose of a successful hunt, had managed to disappear and the only one John could find for me to use for my turkey meat was the freezer bag I’d brought to the hunt that had veggie pulp in it. The bag had been emptied prior to my hunt, but remnants of veggie pulp lined the inside thus covering my turkey breast meat with tiny vegetable slivers.

When I got home at 9:00 PM, I placed the garbage bag with the turkey carcass in the fridge and headed to the bathroom for a shower. In my urgency to find the Tom in the woods, I’d pressed myself through the woods in a devil-may-care fashion with total disregard for poison sumac, my sworn enemy, or limbs, brambles, or spider webs. I knew I needed to ditch my hunting clothes as quickly as possible and clean up to eliminate the potential for urushiol oil settling on my body, and wanted to minimize the chance of ticks turning me into a buffet. There was also the matter of turkey bowel I’d soaked in, which had forced John to comment that I smelled so bad he couldn’t hug me goodbye.

Once in the shower I immediately found a tick searching for a table for one. As I began to wash my hair, I realized that my ponytail had acted as a catch-all, and I pulled enough thorny vines and twigs from my hair to begin a table decoration. By the time I was ready for dinner, about 10:00 PM, I’d lost most of my appetite and interest in eating. As I endeavored to unwind from the night’s excitement, I felt a tiny bite on the back of my neck and got hold of another tick before it had settled in. After finding the second tick, I started to itch all over, and while scratching my freshly washed scalp found a third tick who seemed to have gotten somewhat trapped in my mane of hair.

Saturday morning, I woke up to find that the turkey had discharged blood and water (presumably from the shower he’d had the night before), which had seeped through the garbage bag, and covered the bottom of my refrigerator, dripping onto the floor. As I stared at the absolute mess, pondering how I would clean it all up, I remembered I purchased a shop vac when I got my service dog a few years ago (although I’d never really used it). Fortunately the shop vac did the trick and sucked up all the bloody liquid. In that moment I was glad I’m the kind of gal who likes tools and such. I removed the turkey from the bloody garbage bag and placed him in a plastic tub I’d purchased for pickling my squirrel hides. That’s when I noticed there was a lot of meat left on the Tom that I’d neglected to get the night before. Before setting my sights on collecting the remaining meat, I had to scrub the refrigerator, the vegetable crisper bins, and wipe down all the bottles that had been sitting in the bloody water. It’s ironic really; the turkey got me to clean my refrigerator when I had been putting it off for a very long time.

I was able to carve an extra 1-2 pounds of viable meat from the breast area and thighs. I also took his neck, thereby adding future yummy goodness to turkey soup and also making it easier to fit the large turkey in the small red tub. The turkey in a tub was then placed in a new garbage bag and transported to the taxidermist in town, Kansas Pro Taxidermy, a fairly new member of the Junction City community. John had informed me about KPT, and I recognized it as a great way to keep my dollars local.

The work did not cease at that point, however, because I then had about 10 pounds or so of turkey meat to clean, cut up, and segregate in vacuum seal bags to prepare for being placed in my game freezer (which is one of the most expensive pieces of furniture in my bedroom). All in all, it took over an hour to process the meat and secure it for later use. And lastly; today I emptied and cleaned the shop vac, and washed and sharpened my knives in preparation for the next successful hunt.

With the exception of writing my two essays today and doing laundry (the hunting clothes were washed yesterday), the after-hunt work took up my whole weekend. Whereas it took an hour to hunt the Tom, and another hour to find him; it took a full half day, spread out over two full days, to complete the hunt in its entirety. That’s not counting the several hours it took to write both essays about the hunt.

As I progress in my hunting experience, I hope to decrease the time it takes me to field dress my harvest, and I look forward to improving my meat prep skills, although I’d be happy if I could just decrease the number of times I cut myself with a knife during the whole process. One day I also pray to have my own house with a garage so I can process all my own meat, including deer, and have a large space in which to do it, rather than the small galley kitchen in my apartment.

Until such time, however, I consider the whole experience to be an integral part of the hunt; something I look forward to and enjoy. And a process which reminds me of my ability to be self-responsible (and therefore Free) every time I consume a meal consisting of the wild game I harvested.

SpringTom Meat