Top_Heavy's World

I started writing about a food plot, the lay out, the use of natural movement, the needs for security and even the tree that I would hunt out of, I am going to tie into that information tonight and expand on some concepts and ideas.
I called my planted area a "food plot", but it was clearly a "Killing Plot". In todays vocabulary, everyone talks about food plots, a small area of land planted with high nutrition plants for the deer to eat. These locations are hunted over and usually the plantings are something that attracts deer during the hunting season. This would actually be a kill plot. There is seldom enough material grown to truly feed the deer for longer than a few weeks, and the setting is usually for getting a buck to show itself during legal shooting hours. These plots are important in the concept of Quality Deer Management, they give the hunter time to properly evaluate age, size and desirability of the deer. These traits are important to ensure only the best genetic traits survive on the given property.
High nutrition, on a year round basis, is another requirement for reaching the full potential of your deer herd. Far too few people have enough desire to provide seasonal feed materials for the entire year. Those that do try, usually end up just planting clover or chickory, and maybe they leave some corn or beans at the end of a field they farm. I have a friend, a true steward of the land, who knows no limits in his pursuit of the perfect deer. This friend has a fair amount of land, not 85000 acres like the King Ranch in Texas, or 50000 acres like the Smith Ranch in New Mexico, but he has a modest spread. This friend makes the Quality Deer Management of many of those other ranches look like part timers. He plants 100's of acres of materials that are never hunted over. The layout of the fields is for different materials to be at optimal usage and nutritional value as the last plant reaches the end of it's usefulness. Legumes, grasses and grains are all planted to offer a variety of flavors and textures. These feeding areas all have water in close proximity and sheltered from visibility to most roads or other areas of possible harassment from less than honest people. These fields are left in complete peace, usually as a refuge except during the required planting season. My friend is proof that you don't need huge amounts of land to do better for the herd than just kill plots.

I touched on several things here, the definitions of certain plots, the idea of year round nutrition, the idea of security for a deer herd, the idea of protecting you deer herd from poachers. Soon I will touch on the idea of predator control, shelter and bedding areas in proximity to food plots and ideas for planting trees and understory plantings to help improve habitat and funnel deer in desired ways. These are sort of loose writings of my ideas and what I have learned over the years of farming, hunting, animal husbandry and formal training at the college level. I would appreciate any additional ideas from anyone who reads this.

The anticipation was easily seen in our entire group. Breakfast was light and simple, I did have an extra mug of Miltons wonderful tea, and we were off. I needed my heaviest coat as the air was particularly chilly. We took the shortest route to the area where we left the eland herd. To our amazement, the group never crossed the roads, that meant they had circled back around us or we were very close to catching them last night. It was going to be a long trek back to where we left the tracks, so we decided to check the Leopard baits hung for another hunter in camp.
The baits were all impala carcasses. They were hung from a mostly horizontal branch of a tree; high enough nothing on the ground could get at them, but close enough to the branch so a leopard could lean over to feast from his secure perch. None of the 3 baits had been visited by a large cat, so we used grass clumps to "broom" away the tracks of the small animals attracted by the smell. Caracle, wild cat, mongoose, honey badger, all types and manner of little beasts had been around the bodies, but no loepard. We left the baits and worked towards another large burn area that had grown up a little more than the others.
We walked in the same manner as the day before, single file with the older tracker in the lead, the young tracker behind him, Allan, with me bringing up the rear. We were going to look for tracks in the burn and along the river on the far side. Allan had a hunch, and that was good enough for me. We hadn't been walking a full 10 minutes, when I thought I saw a bull eland about a half mile off, in a clump of brush on the edge of the burn. Allan thought it was best if we waited here as the old tracker hurried to look for spore. He returned a short while later and claimed I must have seen the rhino that was in that clump. I still do not believe I saw a rhino, I believe I saw the eland and the tracker saw a rhino and was so distracted from that moment on, he quit looking for eland tracks. None the less, our parade marched on. The cold morning turned into a very hot midday. The mirage made it hard to use my binocs and we quickly ran out of water and 7up. If we were this thirsty, imagine how the animals were feeling... Allan knew of a small pond that still had water in it, on the upper end of the burn. We worked our way through the last clumps of tall grass before the burned area around the dam of the pond. I was just stepping into the open as we all noticed movement coming out of the bowl of the pond. The movement turned out to be a huge boar warthog.
The gray skin was magnificant, pure gray like the crayon in my son's Crayola box. A perfect shade of gray, no brown or tan... true gray. The ivory tusks, atleat 10" each, stuck out and curved up to accent that double "wart" face. The mane was thick and black, and as I threw the gun to my shoulder the mane stood on end and the tail stuck straight up. The tiny tuft of hair on the tip of the tail still sticks in my mind, sort of suspended in mid air. I knew this was a shooter boar, I neaded no guidance from Allan on this one. I was standing in the wide open, no shooting sticks or support, and the boar was over 90 yards away. The quartering angle made it very difficult, I had to shoot over the left tusk, below the eye, just missing the jaw bone, to get into the shoulder tight enough to get into the vitals. 6" back and I shoot him in the guts, a couple of inches low and the 300 grain Trophy Bonded Bear Claw bullet would remove the pearly white tusk. Someone moved... the boar reacted by a quick move of his head as he tried one last time to locate us. That tiny movement opened him up for me and I squeezed the trigger. The recoil in this position was hefty, I lost sight of the hog for a few moments and when I did relocate it, it was running all out. The mane was still sticking straight up, the long hair flowing back and the tail was up and back. I chambered another shell, the scope was still only on 3X, the lowest setting on my Leupold scope, so the 50 yard shot should have been simple. The pig was dodging rocks, grass clumps, small bushes and the upright mane distracted me. The shot went high, I misjudged the body size in that thick hair. At the shot the boar turned right at me. I was being charged by a warthog! Ruarck, Capstick, the other big names of African lore had nothing on me, I was being charged! I was going to stop this with a heroic shot at close range and be able to tell the tale over cocktails and at parties. The girls would gasp with the manly pose I would strike as I replayed the shot. Men would want to be me, jealous of my abilty to stand in the face of a charge. I looked over my shoulder, quickly I saw what I needed, a branch about 8' off the ground. I would jump up and grab the branch, pulling my legs up if needed. Now I had a back up plan if needed and I could set my mind on task. The massive boar was bearing down on me, coming right at me. I closed the chamber on the final shell in my gun, the safety already in the fire position. I could see the head of the beast in the scope as it closed the distance. 10 yards now, as fast and wild as an animal can be... Allan doesn't have a gun, I might save my PH while stopping this charge. The story in my mind moved faster than the boar did. 7 yards now, I have to be steady... Squeeze, this is the stuff legends talk about... BOOM. The Remington emitted smoke and fire, a dragon spitting death at it's pray... OH SHIT, I MISSED! I shot high, the angle at 4 yards was steep and I didnt lead at all. I turned tail and ran like a girl! The breath of the pig, bearing down on my legs, looking to cut my achiles tendons... I could feel him, sense him about to cut me down, about to slice me and leave me bleeding in the hot African sun. I was jumping for my safety branch, the last hope I had of life, this charge now taking on the severity of a full blown elephant charge... I was going to
I looked over my shoulder as I was pulling my legs up. Allan and the trackers were standing in the same positions as when the hog came over the dike. No one had even twitched, they were frozen in time. The massive boar was laying dead... the instant I turned to run, it finally saw me and being afraid of me, it turned to flee and fell over dead. The sheepish look on my face finally broke the ice. The guys started laughing and soon they were holding their stomachs and slapping each other on the back. Tears were actually coming down Allan's cheaks. I failed to see the humor... at least until the embarassment wore off. I recreated the high stepping gate I ran with, lifting my ankles high as though the razor sharp tusks were about to cut them. I did leave out the sounds, the almost scream that I didn't realize I was emitting while I was running. The trackers kept immitating what they said I sounded like... it sounded like a strange bird or a 5 year old girl whom just lost her candy to her older brother... OK, I admit it, the hero thing didn't work out to well for me on this hunt, but it was better for me than the monster warthog. My bullet placement had been perfect. The shot entered the shoulder just infront of the leg, through the entire body and out the off side rear hip, a total pass through. There was a cut in the mane where my second bullet went high and no sign of bullet number 3. I was laughing and joking with the guys before we were done taking pictures, I still laugh about it today.

The morning was eerie, sort of a strange feeling in the air. I felt really good, everything went well at breakfast and during the morning rituals, we quickly found a fantastic Common Duiker, pushing the 5"+ size and I made a great stalk. I still don't know what happened, but when the recoil was gone, so was my trophy. I missed it clean and it was gone into the thickest bush in Zimbabwe. The morning was still young, the fog barely lifting and the sun only a sliver over the mountain tops, so we worked our way down the valley towards the big burn that I had hunted before. A troop of baboons were strung across the valley as they moved from one mountain to a huge rock outcropping. The troop leader was the biggest male I saw the entire trip. His musculature was impressive at over 300 yards. He stood almost a full head taller than any other in his troop. He held his ground as we drove to about 250 yards. He finally started across the open burn, the last of the entire troop. I hadn't attempted a shot of this distance with the .375 before, but Allan merely said "Aim spot on"... I looked at the distance, the drop should be atleast 4"... I need to aim a few inches high... The stides of the baboon were amazingly fast. Arms outstretched, both at the same time. The hands were now feet as the back legs were lifted and swung forward until they were on the ground, then the entire motion repeated. I was amazed at how graceful this motion was, almost smooth in a very unorthodox way. I held a few inches high as my gut told me and .... I had the second miss in less than an hour! The bullet clearly was high, surprisingly the lead was perfect as it was right behind the shoulder, but it was high and the bullet made a large dust trail as it skipped for 100's of yards. The troop made it to safety and the large male was out of sight.
The gun is off was my only thought. I don't miss and to miss twice can't be a shooter problem. "I am going to shoot at that big rock over there" I said as I carefully took aim off of the dash of the truck. The shot was perfect, a very dead rock! With confidence in my gun, my personal confidence was waining. I hate missing.
Less than an hour later we came across a set of tracks that stirred some serious talk amongst the trackers and Allan. The tracks looked like a very big cow to me, the largest tracks I had seen in the loose dirt roads other than rhino tracks. "Big Eland Bull tracks" was Allan's sumerization of the conversation, as he circled the track with a long stick. The lead tracker picked up a couple sticks and carefully broke them into measurements that corresponded with measurements of the tracks. I watched silently, I wanted to really learn from this lesson. The truck was parked, funny, even in the middle of a 40,000 acre private ranch in the middle of Africa, where no other vehicle is to be, we pulled off the dirt road. I took my rifle, my gun bearer carried my 7up(I was nervos of drinking any water there so I only drank boiled water in tea or 7up)and the shooting sticks, his binoculars on a string around his neck. I noticed the natives never used binoculars, they saw things I struggled to see even with 8X magnification. I wore an elastic "bino system" with my binocs, and the young tracker seemed to want to look like me. He never did use the binocs all day, the weight must have been troublesome, but he wore them just the same.
The trackers led off, I was in the back of the line and we looked like a 4 segmented insect as we slithered our way amongst the rocks and termite mounds. I watched as they sorted out the sign left by the 3 Eland. There was a bull, a cow and a jouvenile, not a newly born calf, but less than a full year old, was the guess. I studied the bulls tracks. I noticed on one foot the outer toe was shorter thant he inner, which created a distinct track. We entered a very sandy area that was free of leaves and grass, in this stretch, I noticed my normal walking pace was exactly the same stride length as the bull's. I watched from the back of the line as the first tracker was bent over watching the ground like a bird dog, while the second tracker would scant the landscape ahead for the actual animal. I could see the openings or gaps in the forest and I watched the 3 guides move in unison into these clearings. Soon I was able to watch the brush ahead and "know" where he walked with out even wathcing the rest of the group. I got so wrapped up in the tracking of this bull, I soon started to get the feeling of confidence, of "Fate", that this bull and I were going to have a meeting soon. I could sense his directional changes and I was careful to measure my paces. Each time I would look down, the bulls tracks were in stride with mine. I sort of giggled to myself at my discoveries and almost cocky persona of the tracking job. The game went on for hours, well into the afternoon, when the bull finally walked on to a very flat, open, rocky area. The smooth rock surface was impossible to track across and the group split up to try to find out where the bull came off of the shelf. I watched and daydreamed for almost a half hour until Allan came back and explained they had lost the track. I went back about 20 yards and started my stride/feel/see game again and as I neared the smooth rock surface, I felt the urge to move left, down the side of it. I moved to the right of a tree clump and I continued towards a big termite mound that was in deep shade. I passed the mound and the ground had a small amoung of dirt on it. The story was plain to see in that tiny amount of termite dust, the bulls track was right next to mine! I circled the track with my toe and I walked back to Allan. I was carefull in my wording, I didn't want to sound know it allish, as I was the guy who missed 2 shots already today. "They can't find the tracks and now they are almost praying they stumble upon them. The trackers don't want to look bad, but they don't want to leave after all of the talk about the size of this bull... they believe I will know something went wrong" Allan sort of looked amazed "They are walking in circles with their shoulders hanging and a glazed look in their eyes, a defeated look. Allan, I know where the bull went, I can show you his tracks" Allan's head snapped up and for the first time he really looked at me. "Show me" was his simple answer
I showed him my findings, the stride length, the natural movement through brush where it was least likely to rub on the massive bulls shoulders, the way I could flow like the bull and after the termite mound I showed him the bulls tracks. My circle was around the print with the funny toe. He whistled and the trackers quickly arrived. Allan showed them the circled track, I think he liked the circle as it further accented what they were again following. The conversation in Africonse was hard to follow but the gist was clear as glass. The guy they were tracking for was not just a big dumb American, he was a woodsman, a man who could follow spore on his own, a man who could see through their mistakes and games, a man who not only looked at the world, but SAW what was there.
The multilegged insect started throught the brush again, me bringing up the rear as before, now the whole group was "feeling" the way more than looking for spore. We were gaining ground on the herd, but we were still way behind. Darkness was soon closing in on us. The last rays of sunlight vanished and our stalk ended there, in the filtered light of sunset. Allan and the guys worked out an approximate location of the tracks and a guess of where to start again in the morning. We started the long walk back to the truck.
The drive in the dark was fantastic, I saw more night life and some different animals from before. I saw a ringtailed mongoose, spring hares, jackals and a wild cat flashed in and out of the head lights. We finally came across a few duikers, much less shy in the darkness. I took my bow and slipped to a better angle on a really nice bull. When the lights were dim enough to see my sights, I made a good shot and brought back a nice common duiker.

Not much farther and another set of eyes lit up the brush. "Jackal, shoot it quickly" I snapped Allans 22 Hornet to my shoulder and shot between the firey eyes as quickly as I could find them in the scope. They vanished with the sound and a quick slap on the back ensured me of a great shot. The trackers ran to the edge of the headlights and found I had not shot a jackal, but a nice female common duiker. The shot was where I expected and there was no wasted meat on this tiny delicacy. This duiker would be given to the trackers as a gift for a good day. I did manage to shoot a cape hare, a cotton tail duplicate, with lots of fleas, that the trackers took as food as well. The night turned out to be beautiful and productive. My journal notes talked of the stalk and the drive back, and also of the 40 impala, 4 warthog, 8 Zebra and many duikers we saw during our long trek after my eland. Today turned out very well, perhaps my luck was changing afer such a rough morning. We had a plan, it included a really big eland, a crazy kid from Iowa and a very, very long stalk... but that story is yet to be told.

The spring bite has been hit and miss, but as the water has been warming it is getting steadier. We have been using small tube jigs at all depths and Minnows below bobbers have been hot lately. All of the fish have been hitting best at 12 to 18" below a bobber. The water is dirty due to the rain, so the fish seem to see best closer to the surface. We have been seeing fish working right up against the rocks and a 1/16 oz weedless head and a slider grub have proven fantastic. We have managed a few walleye with this combo as well. Today was a great day and we finally found some catfish.

This big 10 lb plus monster was caught on 4 lb mono and a 1/32 oz head with a minnow about 14" below a bobber. The crappie have been in large schools, when one line goes, they are all getting hit in a matter of seconds, this is great action, but with 2 children under 6, that is a little too much action for one person and many of the bites were lost.

Doubles and triples were common as the schools of 9 1/2" to 11" fish moved up the shores. My daughter broke off another really big channel cat and my son broke off a nice bass. Ironically my son caught a bass on the next cast and that had his jig head in it's mouth from only minutes before! We got that hook back and released the fish unharmed.
Spring fishing is some of the best action and kids need action to stay interested. I love eating crappie and a couple of hours on the water with my little ones makes for some great sping memories, get out there and make some of your own.

The rain finally quit, the wind was unreal and it never got over 55 degrees. I tried Crappie fishing and got blown off the water after only a few bass were caught. I looked for mushrooms and it has been too cold so that was a bust, I worked on cleaning out my tackle boxes and ended up carp shooting! I love bowfishing almost as much as whitetail hunting. Jody and I took several pictures of the german carp we shot but I will have to post the pics on Sunday. I am trying a new organization system for my tackle, it is really awesome and will be worth looking at, I will post on that this week as well.

It has been raining like the days of the arc here in Cedar Rapids. I have a ton of plans so it should make for some great stories. We are going to take a bunch of crappies out of the pond, food plot prep work where possible, I am going to scout for bowfishing, and organize the fishing tackle, respool my St Croix fishing rods and Shimano reels, and get the jet boat ready for river fishing next weekend. I will be busy, but spring is never a time to sit around, stick around, there will be some tips, suggestions and ideas that you might use.

Deer in every part of the country relate heavily to one thing... groceries. Does and fawns frequent the best feeding areas and big bucks follow the does. Proper nutrition creates healthier deer and that creates larger antlers. No matter how you look at it, food is the single greatest factor that I can easily have an impact on, and it is the easiest factor to affect my hunting during every season. I have a couple of new properties that I am working on, and I thought I could share how I choose a plot location. Once the spot is chosen we will go into what I plant, how I plant it, variables that affect different seasons etc.
Location is critical in several ways. Deer like security, the more secure a deer feels in it's habitat, the more it will move naturally. I like to put plots in areas that offer the deer percieved advantages, I want to give my herd a false sense of security. The property I will show is a prime example of this theory. The property has a huge slope to the south, more winter sun offers less snow in the worst part of the year, a bonus for the late season. It has heavy timber and bedding cover on the East side of the property and there is established CRP and heavy grass on the South and West sides. Pastured timber that has been allowed to brush up again, borders the North West side and there is a small river on the very far south edge of the CRP. The area has a huge deer population, but the movement patterns were unpredictable, spread out and hard to hunt. There are only 2 fields for several miles in all directions, so a permanent food source would greatly concentrate movement.
We know the approximate area for a plot, there is about 40 acres here that would work. Now we need to figure out how to hunt it. A food plot is not good if you blow all of your deer off the field everytime you come to hunt, with continuous disturbance, the deer will become very nocturnal and you are defeating the purpose for even planting. I looked at the best locations for a tree stand. This was done by evaluating current natural deer movement, you can't force them to go where they don't want to, so work with them naturally. I looked at the best trees for a stand, not just a current tree, but also back up trees incase of disease or wind damage. I looked at the wind direction best suited to this plot and stand locations. I evaluated the land contours to get me to the tree unseen while keeping my scent controlled.

This is the best tree I could find for an East, North East, South East of South wind. It is in point of timber that runs west into the field. Many people would not choose this spot, it appears very touchy with the wind, but due to the hill, my scent is almost not even an issue. South is not my ideal wind, but as the cattle are put into the pasture on the NE corner, the deer will be coming to the food via the south trail or the trail right below the stand, thus making a S wind huntable. The fact that my tree is in a corner is another bonus as deer will have visual security by the hill to the N, timber on the E and S and open country with a great view to the W. The contours of the hill naturally lessen at this corner and the wash that starts in this point prevents deer from getting right under the stand.
Shape of the field can be critical. We chose to run this plot up the hill and West into the field. The rows of plant material will naturally prevent run off this way, the large farm equipment we are using on this property can easily be turned around with out damage to the surrounding plant materials, and the current deer movement follows this X shape already. 2 legs of the X go into the timber and the other 2 go up the hill and also out into the field. We are designing this plot to slow and hold the deer during normal movement as well as create a destination with predictable access.

This is the view of the L shaped plot with the shooting tree in the corner. We tilled the ground and worked the soil for planting, next we will pick the best plant material for this site.

The morning was normal, as mornings go while on safari. Milton would poke his smiling face into my room to be sure I was awake. He would make breakfast and sweet, British tea. The days supplies would be put into the truck, the fuel and daily maintenace being already taken care of. Allan, my PH, a tracker and a gun bearer and I would climb into the open topped hunting truck and we would drive the dirt roads. Tracks of all manner of animals would cover the roads from all of the nighttime activities. We would size up the animals, evaluate the tracks for age, type, size etc, and then we would drive on or get out and track the animal. During our travels this morning, we came upon one of my favorite animals, the common duiker. This tiny antelope looks a lot like a miniature whitetail deer, with short black horns. The shape, physique, etc all reminded me of the deer I hunt so often. We found this beautiful bull while driving. A short stalk and a good shot were needed to anchor him. This duiker has about 3 1/2" horns and weighed perhaps 30lbs.

We did find a herd of klipspringer with a magnificant bull in it. This bull would have gone very high in the record book with a bow. Allan beieved in the top 10 all time! I worked on this bull for hours and actually shot at him 2 times. My gear was set up for shooting big animals at less than 30 yards. 800 grain arrows drop really fast after this point and I never got inside of 50 yards. Both shots at the bull fell way short. I did go back to get my rifle, but never saw the monster bull again. With the Mathew's Drenalin I use today, this little beast would have my name behind it in the books for sure!

I read the story tonight of a young father who shot his son while turkey hunting. He mistook his 8 year old for a bird and shot and killed him. I can't even imagine the personal agony that man is going through. I feel for him as a father.
I only ask that every outdoorsman takes an extra second and think about how accidents like this happen. Never leave your child, never shoot a target that you are not 100% sure of, never get so wrapped up in the harvest that you aren't aware of your surroundings. If this poor father had taken a couple of extra seconds to ID his target, his son would still be alive... Please be safe in your adventures.

This is my wonderful son, whom I am bringing up in the outdoor traditions

Friday was wet and miserable, we hunted in Benton Couty and saw a couple of nonresponsive birds while we managed to get soaked. Saturday I hunted alone and shot a huge tom minutes off the roost. Sunday morning I Jody to my Southern Iowa property

The morning dawned clear and warm, 51 degrees as we parked the truck at 5:30am. The turkeys were silent until 5:55 and then they were only mildly talkative. We followed the sparatic gobbles to the same location I hunted on Saturday. The property I hunt is the high side of the river and for some reason the birds flew down on the open fields on the low side. We worked our way upstream following each gobbling tom. The property is just over a mile long by a half mile wide. In that mile long search along the river we saw a ton of turkeys. The first group had a single tom and 2 hens, the next group was 5 toms and 2 hens, the next was a single tom and a pair of hens, the next group had 4 toms and several hens, the next group was a single tom with 2 hens, and finally ther was a single tom with 1 hen I could see. It was really unbelievable to see that many toms in one morning. We saw a total of 13 toms, but not a single bird responded on our side of the river. 8:30 was our set time to call it a day so at 8:20 I was feeling sort of bad that I couldn't get Jody on a bird. We worked to the center of the property to take the tractor road back to the truck, I tried one last aggressive set of calls on a glass friction call. I couldn't believe it, a tom gobbled back at less than 100 yards! I kept the tom strutting, his drumming was nonstop and very loud from my position, to give Jody time to work into gun range. Jody was just about there and a second tom showed up with a jake. Our bird met them and the fight was on. It is really awesome to watch as the newcomers were run off the strutting area. The big tom started back towards me, his attention back on my calling. After all of that effort, Jody in position, a hen showed up and the tom locked up. Jody was confident and his red dot scope was accurate so the 49 step shot was perfect. Our morning ended at 9:10... we were late, but we had our bird!

I work really hard to have permission to great properties for everything I hunt. I don't like to "just go", I expect to see birds, deer or animals of desire, when I take the time to go huting. I spend extra hours with landowner relations, planting food plots, scouting, setting stands, basically "doing the work" as Tred Barta puts it. By doing the work I end up with more enjoyable experiences when I do go out. This morning was the results of my hard work.
Yesterday I was the caller for a friend on his small timber plot and the uncooperative birds and nonstop down pours made the morning less than perfect, but today I got a morning to hunt for me. The alarm at 3:45 was less than fun, but once I was up it only took a couple of minutes to get going. I was on the road by 4:10 and at the HY-VEE by 5:50. The normal routine is to stop and get a coffee at the last stop before the farm I hunt. I drank 1/2 of the 20oz cup of heaven and got out of the truck at 6:05. Camo slid on, boots changed and vest on, gun loaded, head net slid on, hat on top... I left the truck about 6:12. I walked 200 yards and owl hooted... nothing. A gobble sounded way up river from me as I stood there, too far to have heard my locator... another sounded way west of me, also too far to go after. I moved 50 yards north and hooted again. Gobbles on the bluff as expected, darn, that means I have to cross 2 little creeks and walk about 400 yards. I set up against a locust tree on the edge of the field above th bluff and started to call. Gobbles coming my way were wonderful and soon I could hear drumming. Movemet caught my eyes as 5 toms walked by about 30 yards away. The way they were acting was strange, sort of like they were being pushed. I held off a few seconds and 2 monster toms in full strut moved into sight. 2 hens followed the first 5 toms past my location and the pair of dominant birds moved to about 18 yards. The movement of my shotgun caught their attention but it was too late. My prize lay flopping in the field. I put 2 slate calls in my pocket and I walked to my bird. As I stood over my bird, I could see 2 more longbeards about 80 yards away strutting under the oak trees the last 7 toms had come from. I love this property! I pulled my phone from my pocket. It was now 6:45. I called Dave Reisner and left him a message. "Good morning David, listen to this..." I held the phone out into the air for a couple of seconds, absolute silence, "Hear that? That is the sound a dead turkey makes! You should have been here!" and I hung up the phone. Dave passed on a morning with me for an afternoon with John... I hope that turns out to be a good plan for him. We would have had some great video! I was back at the truck at 7:01, with 1/2 a cup of still warm coffee!
Hunts like this are the norm when the work is done well ahead of time. I hope everyone has a great spring, I sure am.

I finally got out for a morning of gobbling and fun with a friend and the rain put a cold damper on the day. We finally got a few gobbles about 6:00 this morning, the birds, 1 tom and 2 jakes, went silent as soon as they hit the ground. We moved in and we did see the birds, but they were moving onto another property. Jody has 20 acres, and that is tough to hunt due to it's small size. The constant rain just had everything washed out. We were cold and ready for coffee by 8:00. All in all it was a fun morning as it is always great to be out, but I am hunting for me in the morning,

The headache from the scope bite was finally reduced to a dullness and my right eye finally quit watering, after hours of discomfort. The cut, a half moon shape, is still very visible in the pictures! Allan talked me into viewing the night animals of Zimbabwe. We traveled slowly in the open truck and shined a pair of spotlights into the bush. Night animals everywhere have large eyes, but I have never seen a set of eyes as big or bright as the set looking at me. Large as half dollars, these eyes were as bright as the headlights of the truck. I am used to deer, racoons and cats having green or red eyes, and the pupil is sort of visible. This set of eyes looking at me were pure gold, bright yellow orbs with no pupil or variation at all. I would have guessed them to be reflectors on a childs bike, or on the side of the interstate. The eyes of this animal just sat, unblinking, staring at the light. "That is a springhare, a fantastic rabbit like animal. The blacks can catch them really easily." Allan explained. First it was strange to refer to people by class based on skin color, second, how would anyone "catch" one of these. "Hold the light very steady" was the advice given to me. Allan spoke to the tracker and the assistant in Afrikonce as I held the light. They split up and came at the statue still creature from both sides. It wasn't any big deal, they walked right up to it, reached out and picked it up by the back. It was carried to the truck and I got to examine it closely. The light kept it calm and I got to pet the thin soft hair. The feet, more like a kangaroo than any rabbit I have ever seen, were amazing. I still can't believe the long cat like tail. I must admit, I have never seen such a strange animal in all of my days. I had to try to catch the next one, it looked so easy. I wanted to have a picture of a live springhare that I caught, to show people when I talked about my safari. We found a medium sized hare and I was told the technique. I slowly moved in, reached out... those little buggers are quick! It tried to bite me and missed by mere fractions of an inch, and it bolted away and found the safety of it's burrow before I could even pull away! The guys in the truck were laughing like crazy! The next hare acted about the same as my first. I moved in, it moved away, I tried harder, it ran faster. The tracker got out and caught the next one in about 10 seconds, it didn't even squirm as he picked it up! The next hare didn't give me the chance to start my stalk. I hit the ground and he started running. I was now the laughing stock of the camp. My nick name was used again. I don't have a clue how to spell it, Afrikonce wasn't available in my high school, but it translated into Rhino. I was very proud of this name, given to me by my tracker. I believed at the time it was due to my strength, size, and fearlessness, looking back, it was probably due to me being blind, noisy and dumb! The final hare of the evening was in grave danger. I was getting that hare no matter what! I slipped from the truck, gracefully now, step by step I lightly set my boots into the dust. I moved into the darkness past the beam holding it in a trance. I got position, leaned forward and... "BANG". I shot the dam thing with a 22 hornet! Allan had the gun in the truck and I slipped it out with out them seeing. They all jumped as the little rodent kicked a few times. I was laughing now! The whole gang joined in my jovial mood and got pictures of my hare! Not the biggest or best trophy in Africa, but it sure was fun.

Spot lighting rabbits is one of my favorite things to do any where in the world and now I have done it on 2 continents, an accomplishment no other aquaintences can compare! We saw mongoose, night babies, cerval, snakes, scrub hares, honey badgers, and springhares, plus all of the big game animals we saw in the daylight. I have to admit, I really love the animals of the night time in Africa

I recently read an article that the overall number of hunters was down in the United States, but the license numbers were up. They say less people are hunting more. I guess I am finally seeing changes as they creap into my areas, but I don't understand the results. I recently lost a 300 acre property in Missouri. It wasn't really very good for trophy hunting or for managing for bucks, it backed up to the Mark Twain Refuge, a huge public hunting area by Monroe City. There was a fair strip of public land between our north fence and the water, so deer hunting was a zoo! Opening day sounded more like duck season or World War 2... we heard hundreds of shots some days. We used this trip as a doe harvesting weekend. Jody and I would shoot 4 to 7 deer in a short weekend and be back at work on Monday. This trip was fun, but we only saw 8 or 10 deer with antlers in 4 years. We must have done a good job with the hunter/landowner relations, as we were the first group to be allowed to hunt the brushy land in almost 15 years. Many of the locals would talk about hunting there before the house was built, but not after. Now that the landowner was comfortable with the whole hunter idea, he decided to pay the taxes on the property, with the sale of hunting rights. I graciously backed out of that venture and I got a couple more properties in Iowa for the rifle season. My property in South East Iowa is now "open to the public". The wonderful man who owns the property allowed another man and I to hunt as his first group since he bought the property. We hunted in peace for 5 years, passing many 140+ deer each year. 3 years ago the 140" deer became tough to find, one year we never saw a deer that big. The landowner started letting a group hunt during the 2nd shotgun season and they shot anything. The group would take about 10 deer per year, mostly does, but it changed the buck pattern for late season dramatically. Soon there was another late season hunter with a blackpowder rifle. The following year another man was allowed to fall turkey hunt, during archery deer season, and he always had a grandson or two with him. Pushing turkeys is not my style and it is really less than fun to be bow hunting on the farm when they decide to show up and hunt. If there are less hunters, I can't see how, most of my properties have multiple hunters on them now, my secret spots are getting surrounded... I guess each hunter has more options for locations?! I got a call this morning from my SE Iowa landowner telling me about the 1st season turkey hunter... he hunted my food plot and called in 2 big toms, he picked the best looking one and was done by 7:30... I guess it is time to look for a new property there as well.

I am not complaining, I have taken my 7 best deer during the toughest, past 3 years, but the pressure from other hunters sure takes some of the fun away. I hope everyone finds a place to hunt, it just makes it tough to believe that overall hunter numbers are down!

I have been hunting a particular buck for 3 years. This monster has grossed over 170" every year during this time. 2 years ago he was just shy of 200 and this year he would have been close to that again. His width has dropped to barely over 12", but his mass and nontypical points have all grown. This particular buck shed his antlers in February for the past 2 years, and friends have both sets. This year the buck dissappeared in early December after being very visible for almost a month. While he was visible, he was not predictable or patternable. The big boy vanished around the shotgun seasons so I wondered if he was taken in a less than legal manner and kept quiet. In early January I thought I saw a huge shed buck chasing does. I told a couple of friends about the sighting, but there is a belief that a buck is uninterested in breeding after his testosterone levels change enough to drop it's antlers. I don't believe that theory fully, as I know it was a shed buck, it was way bigger than any other deer in the herd, it was fully trying to breed a late season yearling doe. I was still unsure with my sighting, and the buck shouldn't have shed so early this year... One of the bucks sheds were found last week! A friend saw the shed and confirmed it for me, the huge buck is alive. I must admit, this gives renewed excitement for a particular property I have been hunting!

The big toms came into the horse pasture daily to scratch for bugs and pick up spilled grain from the feed pans. I had been watching this bachelor group of birds all winter and I couldn't wait to get after them during 4th season. I watched the birds through 1st season where I hunted with a shotgun and took a great bird in Henry County. I watched them through 2nd season as my wife was too busy at work to be able to hunt. I tried to get Jason onto them during 3rd season with his bow, but they stayed just out of range or walked through his shooting window too quickly. We played this cat and mouse game for several days and season was soon over with the birds still around. 4th season arrived and the birds had dispersed. Only one big tom was daily in the pasture and he was usually with several hens. I patterned the evening routine for a few nights and I finally found an evening that Steph could hunt.
We had about 2 hours before dark as I picked up Steph and my daughter Korin. I grabbed a single decoy, the Benelli Montefeltro, a few shells and my turkey vest. It was warm so we each put on just enough camo to blend in a little and we set out. We were hunting in a young timber, the largest trees were only 8" thick. I was nervous about hiding against one of these tiny tree trunks, but I had the perfect evening pattern and I was going to push it a little! On our way to the last strutting ground before the creek, where the birds fly across and go to roost, I grabbed a few pine boughs. I leaned these branches against the biggest tree we had and all 3 of us leaned against the same tree! It wasn't long and the group of 3 hens and our big tom showed up and walked the same little trail they did every night. The group walked right in front of us and started dusting and primping before they flew to roost. The tom heard a few light calls from my diaphram call and he moved a little closer to the decoy. I never did get him to come out of strut, he just wouldn't release. At about 10 yards the shot wasn't difficult, but it was perfect. Steph harvested another monster gobbler, Korin got to watch another successful hunt, and I got to spend time with my ladies.

The crab apples were in bloom the afternoon that we finally had time to get out and hunt together, this fantastic hunt took less than a half of an hour. My daughter was inspired to hunt after watching my wife take this big gobbler, doing things as a family really makes them special.

August 6
AM. I sat in a tree for half of the day. I saw 2 small warthogs at about 150 yards, 2 impala ewes, and flock of parrots, and female ostrich.

I was dropped off at my tree well before light. The property I was hunting was set up for Safari style hunting, from open top trucks with rifles, and I was only the second bow hunter on the ranch. No stands were available, no serious scouting had been done, animal patterns were not watched closely enough to pin point trophy animals and there was lots of water on the property. Bow hunting here was as tough as it gets. I climbed into the only tree large enough to support me, offer some cover, and had a crotch big enough for me to stand in. Hunting like this is tough on the feet, tests a man's endurance and generally tests the overall abilities of a hunter. I stood for hours, looking over the remaining pile of white corn and large round salt block. The baboons had eaten most of the corn since I was here last and the tracks of the plains game looked mostly like cows, ewes and young. A rhino had pushed around the big rock of salt, the drag mark in the soil was very visible. Only in Africa is a sight like this possible. I sat for several hours until I saw a huge snake swinging in a tree about 40 yards away. The head of the snake was strangely shaped and the snake had an odd color... I was sure it had to be a constrictor by the huge head. I was in total amazement when that "snake" stepped from the thick brush and proved to be an ostrich's neck and head! I felt rather foolish at mis-identifying that sight so badly. I was still laughing to my self when a flock of nearly 50 brightly colored parots winged into my tree. I couldn't believe my fortune, as green, blue, red and mixed colored birds danced and fluttered with in feet of my location. These quail sized birds landed as close as 12" at times. I wish they would have stayed longer, but the entire flock lifted and I was alone again. I finally decided to climb down and walk the miles back to camp, I knew the roads and I was in need of more exercise after the great food and sedimentary hunting style. The road took me past the lake where I saw a beautiful crocidile, about 10' long, 20 impala and 6 warthogs. That walk alone, in a wild land, with out a gun, was one of the best 1/2 hours of the trip.
After lunch we again rifle hunted from the truck. The sun was high and warm and the trackers were in high spirits. One of the game guards we stopped to talk to had seen 3 nice impala rams not far away and we decided to go look for them. We soon found the bachelor group and one of the rams had a really wide set of horns so a plan was layed out. We climbed into a huge rock pile for cover and elevation, the best ram was determined and I got into position for a shot. I was forced to crouch down due to the shape of the rocks, I was also forced to lean on the balls of my feet to see around the edge of another rock. This leaning and crouching put me in a very unbalanced position and when I shot, the .375 put me almost on my butt. The recoil was massive and I immediately grabbed my forehead. I heard the trackers start running to gather the fallen trophy, but I was unsure of Allan's location. "Did I get it?" a question to locate him, I knew the answer. "Yes, are you alright?" I was laughing and holding my forehead. I had leaned into the scope, the recoil was too much and I had a cut, the shape of half moon, between my eyes. Blood was pouring from this fresh wound and I was laughing my butt off. Blood made my hands sticky and stained my shirt, but it was still really funny!

I finally got the bleeding slowed and I went to admire my prize, a really nice 21" ram, taken at about 70 yards, off hand. While loading my impala and driving back to camp we saw another 30 impala, 6 warthog and a group of Rock Dassie. Africa really is covered with animals of all types.

There was a time in my life where shooting a deer at 25 yards with a smooth barrel shotgun and a front, BB style sight was impressive to me. I became more experienced and my world got bigger and I desired to shoot squirrels out to 100 yards. I soon found myself shooting coyotes at over 200 yards... prairie dogs at 300 yards... whitetails at 425 yards plus. I purchased a very top end Volquartsen rimfire rifle and I finally saw how good a rifle could get. I shot rifles of all makes and models and found I could shoot tighter groups than many factory rifles could. I put better and better quality optics on my rifles and I found that better optics meant better groups. I settled with Leupold on all of my rifles. I gave away all other scopes, Redfield, Burris, Tasco, Nikon, Bushnell... I tried almost all of the low and mid and upper level scopes. I tried Leica and Swarovski, and decided on Leupold for 2 reasons 1) I couldn't tell much difference in veiwing ability, clarity, quality and 2) I wanted to be able to afford one for each gun, and the very top end scopes were much more expensive for the barely noticable benefits. I got talked into the newest Nikon models in the past 2 years... I should have known better, I put them on guns I almost never use anymore and I will soon take them off and replace them.
Recently I tried a 2.5 to 10X scope that blew my mind. This was the clearest, brightest and most impressive glass I have ever looked through. I had a 5.5 to 22X scope put on a custom rifle for me this past week and I found a new level of "The Best I Have Ever Seen"! I was able to see .30 caliber bullet holes, in tan paper, at 800 yards. The Leica spotting scope we were using, a top end 45x scope, was not clear enough to make out the holes! Even when the power was backed-off to try to eliminate mirage, the rifle scope was clearer and easier to see through with less distortion...
Nightforce is the name, perfection is the game. I know I will never be totally happy until every rifle I have is wearing a Nightforce scope. I have finally found a product that is worth the price, that still fits in the "Best" category. Usually items found of this level are so crazily priced, that they are unattainable. These scopes are not found everywhere, I found them in a Sinclair International Reloading Catalog, page 133. This line of optics is so impressive, so much better than anything else you will ever try, they are worth the effort to find one! Sinclair catalogs are available by calling 1-800-717-8211 I will be hunting with both the 2.5-10x and the 5.5-22X this fall. After only a couple of uses, I am convinced, these scopes are worth it!

I became friends with an incredible rifleman and my world has forever changed. I have been able to shoot sub 3" groups at 800 yards, with a hunting rifle, Nightforce Optics are a key player in those results!

Big whitetails seem to like areas with big grass. I find more big deer in areas that have a fairly high number of acres of CRP, switchgrass or native grass plantings, than in timbered areas alone. I believe the deer like this area for protection from coyotes and other predators, as they seem to work the edges and avoid the really thick or dense areas while hunting. They use the seeds and dry leaves for late season food, and the forbes for early food as the flush of green starts at the first days after the frost leaves the soil. I also believe that the deer use these areas as a thermal break in the coldest weather. Big deer can work into the thickest parts of the switch grass fields, lay up and be very sheltered. More than one time I have bumped a monster buck while pheasant hunting with my pointer. I would have walked right past the buck, but my german shorthair points deer too! Big grass requires some work to get it really thick and healthy. Proper planting, weed control, fertilizer, seed blending, and thatch removal, all have a place in the management of thick grass stands. We burned 4 fields and thick water ways on Saturday. Burning removes the thick shadowing stems and leaves of the past couple of years growth, it puts the nutrients into an easily reused form in the form of ash, and it actually stimulates germination of some prairie plants. Mowing is much more popular in Iowa where I hunt, but in the west burning is the method most preferred. We burned all day and one of the burns lasted into the night, this picture was too awsome to pass up, our burn was about "burned out" for the night.

We operated in a team of 3, one man in a 4 wheel drive truck with a 125 gallon water tank, gas powered pump and attached garden hose. One man running the spray nozzel on the hose to put out the back burn fires, and one man with the torch lighting the fire of the back burns and then the main part of the fields. Burning is dangerous and the utmost care must be taken to insure no injury or loss of control occurs. We evaluated our fields in relation to the wind. We always started on the down wind side of the field. The torch was lit and was walked along the outer most edge of the desired burn area. We lit about 25 feet at a time, the flare up was very hot, but quickly was bearable. The waterman sprayed the outermost edge with the hose, extinguishing the flames, to create a 5 to 10 foot wide area with no fuel remaining. The fire burns into the field, very slowly, as it is moving into the wind. Our group worked across the wind to create an edge around the entire field, the most downwind sides first, ending at the upwind corner. Our fields were big enough that about half of the grass was already consumed before we lit the upwind side, which burns extremely fast and hot with the wind to fan the flames. Water or a mechanical method of fire control is a must. I have used a disc, a harrow and a 5 bottom plow to put out the edges, but there are times the fire will be too hot to drive through, so the edges should be tilled before any fire is lit, if this is the control method of choice. Very little water is needed if the fire is kept small, and we didn't have a tractor at this farm yet, we were able to complete 3 of the burns on one tank full. The 4th burn used about 50 gallons, but the dew was on the grass, and it didn't burn as well as the fields in the warmest part of the day. Be sure to get your burning permit before you strike the match!
Extreme effort was put into the quality of the grass, but for the desires of the landower, this is just another step in the total improvement of a piece of ground. Next time you can't find a big buck, walk through some of the thickest grass cover you can find, I will bet one will come busting out as you walk by. It will take a lot more effort to work through chest high grass, but extreme desires require extreme effort!

It is getting towards the end of some states application period for draw licenses and preferences points. I was reminded tonight that New Mexico applications must be in by the later part of this week. I applied for the bighorn, a vitual lottery percentage to draw... probably not ever draw. Antelope archery in the outfitters pool, was 100% draw last year so I should be writing about a big goat this fall. I also applied for a free range Ibex, this is about a 1 in 10 chance of drawing with a bow and less than 50% kill rate, but should be a fantastic hunt if I do draw. We don't have to rush for preference points in Wyoming, like I have been doing for several years. I believe the price of points going from $7 each to $100 and $75 each for moose and bighorn, will quickly eliminate many people from buying the points. Good for me, I will be able to draw in the zones I want sooner, but bad for the sport, it will further push hunting into the rich mans sport. If you are planning on getting a license in a state where you must draw, you better get on it! Good luck with you tags!

Quality Deer Management is so often looked at as harvesting a few does, passing yearling and 1 1/2 year old bucks and maybe planting a food plot. While all of those steps are in a good management plan, they stop way short of what we are trying to accomplish on our farms. I jumped in the truck after work on Friday and drove 5 hours to the farm of choice for the weekend. While this may seem extreme to some, it is an annual ordeal for a few hardcore deer hunters. The plan is to burn the older switchgrass and native grass plantings, we hope to get 6 burns done Saturday. This will create a flush of new growth, stimulate germination of some native grasses, kill the woody materials trying to get established, and remove most of the 2 or 3 year old, dead material that is now thick enough to inhibit growth. The old stems and leaves will nourish the soil as well. The winter wheat, planted last fall as green forage for the winter will be fertilized in areas it is going to be allowed to seed, and ignored for now if not going to be left. The layout or design must be prepared for the 100 or so acres of food plots to be planted towards the end of the month. Corn, beans, peas, sorghum, wheat, beats and turnips, brassica, chickory and rye will all be planted at specific stages this year. The Alfalfa and clover need to be checked and fertilizer needs to be added this weekend, and all of the tillable soil needs to be walked to find any shed antlers before they puncture a tractor tire. Our weekend is going to be packed, so I will try to report progress each evening.
A forgotten part of QDM, in my mind, is practicing with the method of harvest. Lets face it, we need to manage the herd size and density, so we will be removing excess animals this fall. Practicing with bow, rifle, muzzleloader or pistol, is very important. Wounded and lost game are not easily figured into the management plan, so as ethical hunters we need to put as much energy into practice as we do scouting, ground prep, stand prep and population counts. I hope to get some rifle practice on the range in the morning before the wind gets up. I don't like the forcast, warm and windy, upto 25mph winds, but we will figure it out as the day goes on.

August 5, My travels this morning took me across the lower section of the 40,000acre ranch, I saw 6 warthogs, 20 Kudu, mostly cows and calves, 4 zebra, 10 impala, and my first batch of monkeys. Vervet monkeys are neat little creatures, very long arms and tails, fragile in appearance when compared to the muscular baboon. Their fantastic acrobatic moves were most impressive as they chased each other around the trees. Red squirrels back home wouldn't stand a chance of catching one of these nimble little guys. The monkeys were fasinating and worth the time to watch! The monkeys moved on and so did we, the search started again. We moved into yet another type of terrain, from the lower river bottom area to a rugged valley type. The sheer sides and steep drops felt like the rim rock in valleys, where I hunted elk, while in New Mexico. The tall grass grew in clumps amongst the rocks, thick brush grew where ever it could get root holds amongst the rock base. The truck moved slower here, almost a crawl actually, as we navigated the boulders strewn about. The rock piles and slides created openings and hole through out, offering small denning animals perfect protection fromt the big birds and other predators. It was here that I got my first good look at the smallest animal I harvested while in Africa.
"Did you see that?" I asked excitedly "Was that a rabbit? There's another one, there's a bunch of them running every where... Stop the truck, what is that?" There in front of me, laying on a big rock was the strangest little creature. Eyes of a rabbit, the body of a huge guinnea pig, hair like a mole, almost non directional.. I had to get a better look. I couldn't take it, I had to shoot one. "Are they fair game?" I inquired. "Oh sure, shoot all you like, the blacks love them, they are really good eating and we don't sell the meat, so the trackers will really be happy if you get them one" was Allan's response. I loaded my rifle and the trackers were suddenly very excited. A quick conversation in Afrikans and Allan laughed, they wanted to know if I would shoot 2, one for each of them. The animals on the land belong to the landowner the same as if they were cattle, so the natives are unable to hunt. Protien is expensive so this was a chance for me to really make some friends. I agreed and we set out to find a couple of big mature rodents. I was shocked, they ran up the rock face, smooth and polished from centuries of weather, like it was nothing... straight up! One ran for the trunk of a tree and ran up that as fast as any gray squirrel I have ever seen. I watched a family group run from one rock pile to another and they were faster than a prairie dog as they slipped into a hole. One larger animal ran for a far off pile and it showed the blazing, all out speed of a jack rabbit. This wonderful little beast was called a Rock Dassie.

Look closely, it is right in the middle of the picture!
Rock Dassie are the closest living relative to the elephant! They have funny feet, with 4 toes on the front and 3 toes on the back feet. The soles of their feet are hairless, like ours, but they are of a glandular tissue, that keeps them moist, which is how they have such great traction on the rock faces. It was surprising how tough it was to get set up on the curious little animals, they would run into the rock piles and peek out as we walked by. I couldn't shoot one for fear of it slipping down into the rocks and thus being unrecoverable. I did finally manage to harvest a pair of dassie and I spent many minutes discovering their uniqueness. I pushed the lips back and the teeth were amazing. The individual teeth were split, like toes on a foot, and the upper canine teeth would make a saber tooth tiger jealous.

I had to bring back a skull of the awesome little Rock Dassie, one of the best trophies I brought back!

I sit here struggling to see, a migraine has almost eliminated my vision and my creativity struggles behind the pain. I am sorry now, for type-O's as I won't be able to proof read this soon...
I have to admit, this site has offered me several things, wonderful things I never thought I would find. I have been blessed with some great people in my life from the Iowa Deer site. I checked in with Double Throat Patch tonight, he is at home nursing a ruptured ear drum, pain, blood and lots of problems... I am sorry Kory, that is the pits, I hope you recover soon. I got to write to Venison fan, he is working late to support the growing family, nice to hear from you Matt. Boysen is at home with his little ones, his beautiful wife is teaching dance classes at their studio,your a great dad Adam, congrats on your wonderful family. Tinner911... there is so much that can be said about Jack and his family... I have been able to spend time with his family, what a treat. Thanks for being a part of my evening Jack, it was great to see you, you are a lucky man. 222, a true gentleman, a man of unbelieveable character. I can't even express in words how much I appreciate all that you have done for me and shared with me. Many people are lucky to have a friend or 2 in their lives, I have been blessed in life, but this batch of friends, and many that I didn't talk to today, are the best group a guy could ask for. I can't see anymore, the migraine has taken over completely so I am trying to "wing it" Thanks for putting up with me, you are all blessings in my world.

"Honey, we are here. Come on baby, it's time to get up" I gently rubbed her leg in an attempt to wake my sleeping daughter. "I just want to sleep daddy" was her almost closed eye response. "We will be straight down this fence at the timber OK? Are you listening? Straight down the fence OK?" Korin was asleep again. I covered her up and shut the door to the truck. We were parked in the middle of a 200 acre farm. The entire farm is a cow pasture, so I would be able to see the truck if she got out, and being more than 5 miles from the nearest "real road", I was pretty secure with leaving her. I had really wanted to take both of the important women in my life, on this hunt, but it just wasn't to be. Stephanie and I doned our camo headnets, gloves and hats and started down the fence. This fence row led to my favorite and most productive turkey spot of all time... The Dream Field. The toms were gobbling before we even got to the edge of the field. "Did you hear that?" I asked in an excited whisper. "Hear what?" was her response. I stopped and pulled back her stocking cap and that old gobbler sang to her, as if on que. "That's a turkey? I hear it, I hear it, that is cool!" Her excitement was becoming visible. I hurried the pace, I wanted to get a decoy set before it got light enough to see us.
I had been trying to get my young wife to hunt with me for years, she was a tough sell, but she finally agreed to shoot a turkey. Deer are too pretty, ducks too small, pheasants take too much walking... I happily agreed on a turkey during the next spring season. I took Steph shooting to get her used to the feel of a gun. She shot very well and soon was having no problem shooting pop cans out to about 30 yards. This was great time together and really brought us together. Steph took her hunter's safety class, a great step for any wife who might have children that hunt. I took her to my favorite sporting goods store and purchased her a complete set of women's camo. Comfort is much more important to women, so if you want her to enjoy herself, spoil her! Silk long jons, silk camo shirt, womens cut pants and she even got her own pair of Lacrosse rubber boots. We were set for opening morning.
I led the way to the intersection of the East/West fence we were on, and the North/South fence that was the West edge of the timber. The big tom was still gobbling his head off and he sounded about 100 yards away. We slipped through the fence and slid into a brush pile. I put a flock of decoys about 10 yards into the picked field in front of us. We were set up to have a clear shot back into the field the truck was in, into the field in front of us and good visibility into the timber to the North of us. With in minutes the tom was on the ground and he answered every call I made. The strange thing was, this bird was working behind us into the field the truck was in. We hadn't been in the brush pile for 10 minutes and the tom was running down the fence right at us! Steph was hyperventilating! The tom passed us about 8 feet away at a trot, passed a goose berry bush and came through the fence. The decoys were visible to him at this angle and he went into strut. I have taken a lot of turkeys, but this was the first time I had one between me and the decoys! Steph could hardly control herself, she had been a turkey hunter for about 15 minutes and there was a mature tom turkey at about 5 yards, in full strut. She slowly moved the gun a few inches and jerked the trigger. BOOM... let the flopping begin! I couldn't believe it, my wife had harvested her first animal, a big mature tom Eastern Turkey. I took an entire roll of pictures of that bird, firsts don't come often, so I was loving this morning. We gathered our gear, Steph carried her bird, and we headed for the truck. Korin was still sleeping, the entire morning lasted just under an hour!

This is my wife, Stephanie's first turkey, a great tom taken at about 5 yards. When Jim Kindig mounted the turkey he only found 5 tiny holes... last time I checked, a 3" magnum 12ga shotgun shell has more than 5 pellets in it... Congratulations honey, I am still very proud!