Scouting didn’t go as planned on the day before season opened. We were unsuccessful roosting any birds in the evening and morale for opening morning was pretty low. Our only play was to head back to an area we’d driven through around noon where we had seen a few birds moving through the trees. We figured we’d work one of the two-tracks out in the morning darkness and see if we could get lucky and hear a bird on the limb. It wasn’t a great plan, but seemed to be our only option.

Luck was with us, a tom started gobbling across the canyon in the gray light. We worked one of the ridges out to get close to him, set out some decoys and did some real light calling. Ten minutes later while he was still in his tree gobbling, two other gobblers came screaming into our setup and met with a quick end. Austin and I stood there in disbelief looking down at two mature Merriam’s gobblers realizing that our 2019 Arizona turkey hunt was over just like that.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from turkey hunting – It’s better to be lucky than good.

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It’s been a long time coming. Truth be told I’ve had a tag for the past six years and have spent quite a few weekends hiking, scouting, calling, and waiting. I’ve suffered rain, snow, unspeakable winds, missed opportunities and blown chances on my Arizona turkey hunting journey, but ultimately, I wouldn’t change anything about how my turkey hunt has unfolded over the years.

This year, everything came together on the last morning of the hunt, when that Merriam’s gobbler stepped out in the opening. Walking back to the truck with that heavy bird over my shoulder, I said a prayer of thanks for that turkey’s life, and for a good hunting buddy who helped put me in the right place at the right time.

Right now as I write this post, all I can think about is turkey and stuffing…and turkey sandwiches…and turkey chili…and turkey pot pie…

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Spent an unbelievable weekend up north helping out at the Marvin Robbins Memorial Juniors Turkey Camp. The free camp is put on by the National Wild Turkey Federation Valley Longbeards Chapter to get young hunters into the field and bag their first turkey. Good times were had by all and I walked away energized and more impressed by the work of the National Wild Turkey Federation, Arizona Elk Society, and all the volunteers. I’ll be sorting through photos and putting up the full writeup here in a little while.

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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.

A bittersweet day in the field found me scoping out my hunting stand for the upcoming turkey/deer archery season. The day was bittersweet because I know that with archery season comes the new school year. So while this week I am setting up a ground blind thinking about water and food sources for my quarry, next week will have me sitting in meetings and writing lesson plans.

Although I saw a good amount of fresh sign and even spooked a small flock of turkey, I still have misgivings about the upcoming season. Bowhunting in Arizona requires a good amount of time and an even more substantial amount of luck (in my opinion), and with my favorite creeks within a short driving distance from my hunting stand, my time is usually devoted to the wild trout who boost my confidence when taking a dry fly.

Although the pictures above look nice and sunny, I was caught in an epic thunderstorm that left me wet and cold as the temperature began to drop. Of course I could have turned the truck back down the mountain for the 100+ degrees in Phoenix, but why drive all this way with a fly rod in the backseat if I am not going to use it.

I chose to fish the top of one of my favorite creeks hoping to find the water relatively clear despite the rain. The water was a little bit high and off color which was perfect for the dry dropper setup. Usually this creek is choked with small rainbows in the 4-6 inch range with the occasional brown about the same size, but this day I got into the bigger boys and pulled 3 browns at 12 inches or more. This may not seem that great, but for a stream that trickles and can be stepped across most of the way up, I was ecstatic.

After an hour or two, with the rain still falling, the temperature finally forced me to turn around and head back to the truck for a fresh (well…dry) t shirt I found wadded up in the back seat and heat pumping from the vents. Satisfied that my hunting stand is up and that I found some bigger fish in the little creek, I called it a day and headed back down the mountain. I don’t really want to go back to work…

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