I am still looking to bag my first Merriams gobbler here in Arizona. I had a tag in two previous seasons and had a great time hunting them, but truth be told, I’m still learning so much every time I get into the woods after these birds. This season proved to be the most action packed couple of days in the field, but one of the most disappointing and unfulfilling hunts that I have ever had.

I drew a tag with my hunting buddy, Austin and we set out after work on a Friday. We drove the five hours to camp and set up camp in the dark. After only a couple hours of sleep, we donned our camouflage and heated water for instant coffee before bumping down the road in the darkness to see if we could find some roosted birds. After a couple of stops to crow call, we were able to elicit a shock gobble from the darkness only a couple hundred yards from the truck. We had about an hour before daylight, so we sat in the truck sipping coffee while waiting for the sun to lighten the sky. Nature called and we both got out of the truck and went our separate ways to take care of our morning business. The sky began to show signs of lightening so we quietly grabbed our gear and made our way into the woods.

We set up on a large pine tree with a decent view of the ridge in front of us. I was covering the right while Austin covered left. As the light came up, we began to call and as neither of us had ever seen before, two hens and two gobblers made a beeline for us. The one gobbler moved in quickly on Austin’s side and he waited as long as he could before taking his shot. The morning exploded with a boom as his turkey went down with a thump.

After congratulations and a couple quick pictures, we could still hear gobbles from in front of us. So, we set up quickly about 25 yards ahead and started calling again. Within minutes another gobbler and hen moved in on our decoy, but were always just out of range or behind heavy brush. They circled to our right and I figured that they would be making a loop back around to check out our setup. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind, a loud gunshot echoed to our right, not more than 70 yards away.

We could not believe it. Another hunter had set up just on the other side of us and shot a bird no more than 50 yards away from where we were. We walked over to speak with the hunter and see the bird he had shot. His story was, they had seen our truck parked that morning, seen that the radio was on inside the truck, as we were out with the call of nature, and instead of moving on, decided to set up a hundred yards down the road. They had seen and heard us shoot the first bird, and instead of then identifying that they were there with us, remained where they were and shot in our general direction at a bird that we called in. Here’s the kicker – one of the hunters was an Arizona Game and Fish Employee.

Not wanting to escalate the situation and realizing that nothing good was going to come of standing there and talking about it, we opted to head back to camp and make a game plan for the afternoon. The wind picked up the rest of the day and made it difficult to locate any turkeys. As the sun went down and turkeys started to get back on the roost, we did a bit more calling and found two birds off of the one ride. We marked the spot for the following morning.

Morning came early, and anticipation was high. The first bird was unresponsive, and after an hour or so of calling, we bailed on him to go and try the other bird that we had located the night before. We walked about a mile down a small two track, and sure enough, two gobblers sounded off at our hen calls. We made a quick set up about 50 yards of the track and started calling. As if on a string, the gobbler came closer and soon enough I saw a red head moving up the small ravine in front of us. Through the brush, I could see him in full strut at about 50 yards in front of me. He was moving through some trees and I needed him to walk about ten more yards for a clear shot. As that thought went through my mind, I heard the sound of a truck bouncing down the two track and my heart sank. The turkey turned to look at the road and then moved off into the trees, taking my chance at a gobbler with him.

The truck continued towards us and stopped parallel with where we had set up.   A hunter clambered out of the truck in full camo and started to cluck on his call. We made our position known to him and he hopped back into his truck and continued down the road. Seriously, who is driving around at 7:15 am hunting turkey from a truck?  We called for another 10 minutes and decided to throw in the towel.

I truly do not know if I have ever been so disappointed on a hunting trip. Even as I write this, I can feel my blood start to boil. We made our way back to town and I knew that with the craziness of work and life, that I would not be able to make it back up to fill my tag. Every minute in the woods is a learning experience and I was grateful to have been able to be there. Here’s hoping that next year will have some different results.

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Friday – I woke at 3 AM to what sounded like a hundred coyotes right outside my tent. Although I knew I was safe, I still reached over and felt the cold steel pistol which brought me comfort. A half hour later, I shivered my way into my cold hunting clothes and drove over the washboard road to my predestined spot. Once out of the truck, I shrugged into my turkey vest, double checked to make sure I had everything and waited quietly. Before the sun came up, I heard the first gobble.

I slipped my way into the woods and set up about 150 yards from where the turkeys were gobbling. After setting up my decoy, I scraped away the noisy leaves and sat with my back against a big juniper where I would be nice and comfortable. I called periodically, occasionally glancing at my watch so as not to call too often. The sound of a softly putting turkey sneaking in behind me, caused my muscles to tighten and my breathing to quicken. The small hen walked confidently up to the decoy and stopped only a foot away, cocking her head to the side curiously. She mulled around, pecking at the ground before finally working her way silently into the forest.

The gobblers continued to sound off every time I clucked and purred on the little push-button call, but as far as I could tell, they never came closer than a hundred yards. The first morning of turkey season, and probably my best chance at bagging a tom, slipped away.

I will not bore you with the details of a very uneventful evening, wandering ridges and hammering away on a box call into the howling wind.

Saturday – I woke early on Saturday, and my friend Tom and I headed out to check out a different section of woods. Aside from some early morning gobbling, things were pretty uneventful. The crowds were out in full force and we must have seen at least a dozen other trucks and hunters throughout the day. We saw plenty of sign and even came across a well used turkey dusting area.

I spent the evening scouting some different areas trying to locate birds, but the higher winds made calling very difficult if not impossible.

Sunday – The previous two mornings had showed me that if I was going to have any success, morning was going to be the best time. Tom and I again headed out early and found some very vocal birds. I climbed the ridge they were roosting on and stalked in to about 100 yards and set up. Two gobblers gobbled their fool heads off at my calls and at nothing at all. I heard them fly down, gave one more set of calls, and shut up. Seconds passed and I expected them to come walking through the woods at any moment, but nothing, They continued to gobble about 100 yards in front of me and for the next hour and a half, I periodically switched up calls but to no avail. Finally the woods got quiet and I waited another hour for something to happen.

With the sun high in the sky, I walked up about a quarter mile to scout the rest of the ridge. I was working my way through trees when I heard a rustle to my left. I froze and slowly turned to see two red heads about 80 yards away. The one gobbler continued to walk parallel to me, and as he cleared the log, I could see his beard. After they disappeared from sight, I sat down and waited. After 15 minutes or so, I started calling again, but for the next hour, neither saw nor heard a thing.

With a pretty wife waiting at home, I cut my losses and drove back to the Valley of the Sun.

Score: Turkeys – 3, Me – 0

Turkey hunting is tough here in AZ. I’m convinced that it is about 25% skill and 75% being lucky and in the right spot. If your heading out in the near future here in AZ, my only advice is find that turkey early in the morning and try and get yourself in between him and where you think he is headed. I did not have much luck with calling anything in. If you’ve been out or had some success, I’d love to hear the story. Best of luck.

The post Arizona Turkey Hunting Report appeared first on Arizona Wanderings.

Archery season opened on Friday, and while I went to work, my buddies were already sitting in their treestands. When quitting time came, my truck pointed north in order to leave the blazing desert sand behind and before dark, it climbed the bumpy forest road to camp. The guys had seen a couple of doe here and there, and some had seen turkeys through the ponderosas, but their turkey tags had been filled during the spring hunt. After a few very slow seasons with a couple of blown opportunities, I was itching to get into my stand in the morning.

I beat daylight to my hunting blind and when I checked my phone it read 5:00. After organizing my few essentials, I settled into my seat to wait for daylight. My stand sits about 50 yards off a large water catchment on a faint trail, and as I sat peering into the ever lightening dawn, I told myself that whatever came first, turkey or buck, I was going to put it down. (The fall season in Arizona allows for any turkey, male or female, to be harvested.) Around 7:30, I look up from my book to check a noise I heard, and sure enough a flock of turkeys working through the forest in front of me poking at the ground and putting to each other. I waited patiently as they made their way through my shooting lane. After a quick scan, I could see that all the birds were female, so I reared back and sent an arrow into the closest one. To my surprise, the bird dropped where it was. Half expecting it to jump up and run/fly away, I quickly nocked another arrow but the bird laid still. My first Arizona Merriam’s turkey and who would have thought I could make it happen with a recurve.

By the time I had cleaned the bird, put her on ice, and made my way back to camp, it was going on mid-day. I had too much energy to go back and sit on the same stand that I had made so much noise on that morning, so I strung up the fly rod and hit one of my favorite streams. A great end to a unforgettable day in the woods.

The post Arizona Bowhunting: Merriam’s Turkey appeared first on Arizona Wanderings.

The truck is covered in mud and I have gear to sort, wash, and put away. More to come once I get things cleaned up…

The post Arizona Merriam’s Turkey: Bowhunting Success appeared first on Arizona Wanderings.