Pop Those Bedding Gills

Bill Cooper /13 Pop, went the surface of the pond, as if I smacked my lips loudly. Simultaneously, the leader on my flyline raced perpendicular to my position, slicing through the water like a barracuda. Instead the feisty fish on the business end of my line clearly demonstrated the virtues of the bedding bull bluegill. A colorful, rowdy, but small fish, the bluegill is ounce for ounce, as scrappy as fish come. Most freshwater anglers start out fishing for bluegill. Everyone falls in love with them. They are pure fun and delightful on the dinner plate. Bluegill can be caught all year round. However, the time to catch the most and the biggest bluegill is during the spawn, which occurs in May and June in most areas. Look for the dish pan sized beds in shallow water. Females lay their eggs in the indentations and males hang around to defend the nest. Like a rutting buck, a bull bluegill will attack anything that comes to close. I have fished a lot of places in my lifetime, but one of my favorite methods of fishing is tossing small popping bugs with a lightweight flyrod to bedding bluegill. The action is fast, the fish fight furiously and their is always a good meal at the end of the fishing day. I often use an 81/2-foot Dogwood Canyon 3 or 4 weight flyrod, coupled with a White River fly reel. A floating flyline, tipped with a 4 pound leader is sufficient. Any small, floating bug will catch bedding bluegill. I prefer Betts popping bugs with rubber legs. Bluegill have mouths about the diameter of a lead pencil, so I stick with small bugs. Chartreuse is my favorite color, but white, black, red and yellow, or combinations thereof, will work, too. Legs on most poppers are white and they do their magic. To make the fishing last as long as possible, make accurate casts to the edge of a bedding colony of bluegill. They will strike immediately. I like to work from the outside edge of a bed towards the inside. I catch more fish that way. If you start in the middle, your flyline will spook fish from the beds. Most will return in a matter of minutes, until they tire of your game. Bluegill beds are often found in several locations in a pond or small lake. Find several of and rotate between them. Fish one until the fishing slows and then move on to another. Usually a flyfisherman can make several rounds between the beds before the fishing slows. Normally an angler will have al the fish he wants after two or three rounds. Bull bluegill hook themselves when they inhale a popper. All one needs to do is lift the rod and enjoy the ensuing fight. Gills strike a popper quickly at first. When the action slows, allow the popper to sit for 5 to ten seconds. Then move the popper just enough to make the rubber legs wiggle. And hang on. Hooks are often hard to remove from the tight mouths of bull bluegill. The best popper remover available is a popsicle stick with a small V-notch cut in one end. The stick fights nicely into the fish’s mouth. Hold your line tight, put the V on the hook and apply slight pressure. Your popper will instantly be ready for more action. Cutline: Big, bull bluegill are fun and easy to catch on light flyfishing gear and poppers.

Fall Feeding Spree Creates Superb Smallmouth Fishing

Fall Feeding Spree Creates Superb Smallmouth Fishing Bill Cooper

As late summer wanes into the early stages of fall an itch develops deep in my soul while an insatiable instinct erupts in the smallmouth populations of the Ozarks. Brown bass begin gorging themselves in preparation for winter and slower metabolisms while I dream of catching one more big brown bass. Tom Gallagher, of Sullivan, is a smallmouth fishing guru when the summer time heat fades away to the cooler temperatures of fall. He has been chasing his favorite fish, the smallmouth, on the Meramec River for over 40 years. “There is nothing in the outdoors quite like catching a big, chunky smallmouth bass,” he said. “They are a powerful fish, period. Their long, slender, muscular bodies are perfectly built for the environment in which thy live. And they are the apex predator of the fish world in the Meramec.” “I’d hate to be a crayfish in the Meramec,” Gallagher laughed. He well knows that smallmouth bass feed heavily on crayfish in his beloved Meramec River. Anytime you check the business end of his rods they are rigged with crayfish imitators. A black and blue jig ‘n pig rig is his favorite bait. “Imitates a big crayfish perfectly,” Sullivan said.” I catch more smallmouth on a jig ‘n pig in the cool weather months than on all other of my baits combined.” Gallagher says, with a grand grin on his face, that deer season is the absolute best time to be on the Meramec River for smallmouth. “I generally have the river to myself. Everyone else is deer hunting. However, the river has calmed down, the fish are settled into regular fall patterns. But, the best part of all is the fact that smallmouth are on a feeding binge, making that last big effort to feed up before the really cold weather sets in and slows their metabolism rates.” If you want to give up your deer season to hunt big smallmouth bass, you can find Gallagher on the Meramec River somewhere between Sullivan and Pacific. Dale Goff, of Rolla, lives to catch big smallmouth bass and is quick to state that fall is the magic time of the year. “I catch smallmouth all year long,” he stated without bragging. “Fall is my absolute favorite, though. I catch good fish throughout the summer when their metabolism is very high and the fish are aggressive. But, as fall approaches, the fish can sense the changes that are coming and they go on the feeding spree of the year to get ready for winter. I look forward to that window of opportunity more than any other and I always take time off work so that I can spend several consecutive days on the water.” Goff’s favorite smallmouth bait is a pearl colored Fluke. “Smallmouth hate those things. They attack the bait with a vengeance. It’s like they can’t help themselves. It’s a reaction bite. The Fluke drifts downward with a dying minnow action that a smallmouth bass cannot ignore.” I made a trip recently with Goff. I paddled the canoe and photographed his catch. I have never seen so many three and four pound smallmouth bass caught on one trip in the Missouri Ozarks. He caught every fish on his beloved pearl colored Fluke. Goff spends most of his smallmouth fishing time on the habitat rich Gasconade and its tributaries. Corey Cottrell, of Huzzah Valley, is one of the best known smallmouth fishermen in the state. Cotrell grew up on the banks of the Huzzah and fishes it regularly, as well as the Courtois and Meramec. Cottrell has never failed to astound me with the shear numbers of smallmouth he catches on every trip we make. He stays “in the zone.” Cotrell agrees with the two aforementioned smallmouth gurus that the fall feeding spree is one of the best times to chase big smallmouth. “I generally head to bigger water when fall arrives,” Cottrell began. “However there is one stretch of the Meramec I like to fish in the fall that is still small water. The stretch of trophy trout water from Highway 8 to the Maramec Spring Branch really gets hot this time of year.” Cotrell fishes the stretch with a Sammy 65 in chartreuse/shad or American shad colors. On the bigger waters of the Meramec, from Steelville to Stanton, Cottrell throws the bigger Sammy, number 100, in the same colors. “Topwater action can be tremendous in fall,” he stated. “Another bait I like to use is a frog bait, either in the buzzbait style or the regular frog with wiggly legs.” Cottrell sticks with topwater baits until November.”Smallmouth turn onto crayfish big time as the temperatures begin to cool,” Cottrell explained. “That is when I turn to crankbaits in crawfish patterns. I like the Storm Wigglewart and Bomber’s crayfish crankbaits. I use them up into December.” Anytime the water gets high and muddy Cottrell switches to a white spinnerbait. “White spinnerbaits are killer baits in December and January around the spring holes.” Cottrell stays on the water all winter. “When the water temperature drops below 48 degrees, I break out the jerkbaits. The Pointer 98 is my favorite.” Cottrell knows the Huzzah, his home stream like no one else. “Going into the fall feeding spree, I use the same baits which I use on the Meramec. I also use a 4-inch Senko in green pumpkin or watermelon. For the deeper water I add a 1/8 ounce jighead.” I would trust my smallmouth fishing life to these three gentlemen. In fact, most of the big smallmouth I have caught in my life I can credit to one of these guys. My next move is to coax one , or all three of them, to take me smallmouth fishing during the fall feeding spree.

Late Duck Season Made Up for Poor Season Bill Cooper 2/2/13 Another duck season has come and gone. It will go down in the annals of my duck hunting memory as one of the worst and best duck seasons I have ever had in my forty years of duck hunting. Duck hunter hopes started high late last summer as reports poured in from teh Northern breeding grounds. Ducks numbers were the highest they had ever been since records were first kept in 1952. I, along with thousands of other duck hunters, was elated with teh notion of millions of ducks coming down teh flyways. I made my preparations early, so that I would be ultra-prepared when the duck season rolled around in November. I cleaned my shotgun again, bought a new choke for it, as well as a case of high dollar loads that were sure to blast ducks out of the sky. I tuned my bot motor, cleaned the boat from stem to stern, touched up the camo paint, and purchased new batteries. I also picked up 4 dozen new decoys, brightly colored canvasbacks and lifelike bluebills. Combined with the decoys I already had, I felt convinced I could fool any duck that came my way. Full of anticipation, I checked my decoy set one more time as I settled in for my first morning of duck hunting during the 2012 season. The decoys bobbed it the slight chop created by a northwest wind. My cell phone clock indicated that shooting hours would start in one hour. I star gazed to pass the early morning time. The North star shined brighter than ever. A falling star burned its way into the earth’s atmosphere, only to fade out almost as fast as it had entered. I fully expected to hear the whistling wings of thousands of ducks well before first light. It didn’t happen. Shooting hours came and went. No ducks. None. I always killed ducks at my spot. My heart sank along with my confidence in the reports of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Five trips later, I had harvested a grand total of two ducks. Normally I would have had a couple dozen ducks from five trips. The expected grand migration simply did not happen at my duck hunting spot. A few phone calls to other duck hunters and some browsing on the web gave me answers. The weather had been unseasonably warm and ducks were in a major holding pattern along the U.S. and Canada border. And when temperatures did drop enough to push ducks down the flyway, most ducks migrated through Missouri in a few major flight days. That is the days with bluebird skies and a nice tailwind. They didn’t stop for long and continued south, as if to make up for time lost loitering up North. Duck season came and went and I took a total of two ducks for the entire season, my worst total on record. Not to be outdone by ducks, I began researching other possibilities. The South zone of Missouri stayed open until January 20 for duck season. I hit the Web again and soon came up with a promising outfitter in southeast Missouri called IYF (In Your Face) Outfitters. That sounded like my kind of operation. I contacted owner Perry May. We quickly hit it off and set a date for me to arrive. The night I drove down, a snow storm put the damper on my hopes. I battled road conditions for the last 50 miles of the trip, trying to stay on the highway. The comforts of IYF Lodge were a wonderful sight. I spent the evening lamenting my duck hunting luck with May and other hunters at the lodge. “We will change your luck tomorrow,” May announced with a convincing grin. Smells of bacon and coffee wafted through the lodge early the next morning. Breakfast was ready. I panicked when I looked at my watch. It was 6:30 a.m. We should have been in blinds already. Not so, according to May. “A lot of water froze last night,” he stated. “Things will be different today. We will give it some time to warm up. We will leave here at 9 a.m. sharp.” I knew I was in for something different, but wasn’t sure I was going to like it. After a 45 minute drive to the hunting area, I had begun not to like the situation. We had wasted precious time. As we approached flooded rice fields, I could see ducks in every direction. I knew we should have been there earlier. May stopped the truck and broke a pair of binoculars. He studied intently while each hunter made their recommendations know about which way we should go. May insisted that we be patient. “I don’t want to make a hasty decision,” he quipped. “Let’s look a couple more spots.” An hour later May made an announcement. “We are going to the west pit blind. There is a pocket of open water in front of it and the birds will work it once we get our decoys out.” All four of us hunters could see dark clouds, that means thousands, of ducks going down in a flooded rice field 400 yards away. Why weren’t we going there? May delivered us and all our gear to the blind with a Ranger, slipping and sliding in the slim, black mud of the rice field. May hid the Ranger, threw out a couple dozen decoys and announced that every one should get ready. I had my doubts. May blew his duck call to the tune of: ‘ya’ll come over here’. In less than five minutes minutes, a flight of green head mallards locked their wings and pitched in, loosing altitude fast. “Shoot ‘em,” May shouted. Birds tumbled at the report of shotguns. “Boom,” May shouted. His black Lab bounded through the ice slush and retrieved teh first ducks of the day. “Did ya get all that on film, Bill ?”, May asked. “Yep, I did,” I replied. I had greed to film the entire first day of the hunt. I soon thought I had made a mistake as I watched flight after flight of pintails and mallards into the decoys. However, I made up for it over the next two most fabulous days of my duck hunting life waterfowling with IYF Outfitters of Southeast Missouri. Perry May is now booking for snow goose hunts. The birds have poured into the rice fields by the tens of thousands. Contact May at: perry@iyfoutfitters.com or call 573-421-0093.

Snow Goose Hunt of a Lifetime Bill Cooper 3/13 “I experienced a snow goose hunt of a lifetime,” Chad Everitt, of Lebanon, Ohio, began. “I have never seen as many snow geese as I saw in southeast Missouri recently.” Everitt and two of his Ohio hunting buddies, Chad Dwire and Jim Girtin, traveled 9 hours to hook up with Perry May, owner and operator of IYF Outfitters of Dexter. I joinerd teh goose hunting trio fro two days of their three day hunt. “We have to be where the geese want to be,” Perry May stated to us after our arrival to IYF Lodge on Friday evening. “ My operation is right in the middle on one of the major flight patterns of snow geese coming out of Arkansas coming into Missouri. They have moving by the thousands every day for the last two weeks.” May had been sending me phone videos almost every day for the week prior to my arrival. The numbers of white geese his videos showed were incredible. I, too, had never seen those numbers of snow geese in one area. To say our hunting party chomped at the bit to get started proved a serious understatement. The Conservation Order had come into effect and all of us shared visions of nonstop shooting and piles of snow geese. Fitful sleep haunted all of us, but smells of aromatic coffee stirred our olfactory lobes early the next morning and the caffeine settled frazzles nerves. May explained that we would be in no hurry. “Ours is really an early afternoon spot,” he confided. We will head to teh spot and make any necessary changes in the decoy set. During the process you will see thousands upon thousands of blues and snows headed out to feed. Enjoy the sight and rest assured they will return in about two hours.” We all had a difficult time comprehending what we were seeing as we stopped at the edge of a cut soybean field. Skein after skein of hungry birds winged north overhead. We lingered. “Load up,” May barked, after unloading his Ranger. “You will have plenty of time to scan the skies as we get our work done.” As soon as May pulled alongside his massive spread of decoys, perhaps a thousand, or more, he pointed in several directions and instructed us to pull the decoys in tighter. “The birds are in an aggressive feeding mode at right now and we want to imitate that scenario. With our motion decoys we will imitate birds feeding and leapfrogging to the front of the flock just the way birds naturally feed across a field. We all pitched in to create the desired effect with the decoy spread, while May issued instructions about fine tuning individual areas of the spread. He often reminded us that the less time we spent craning our necks skyward, the sooner we would complete the task at hand and could then climb into the well camoed layout blinds he had precisely positioned for each of us. We all chatted incessantly as we stashed our gear in our respective blinds. May had instilled within each of us a confidence that he knew what he was doing. However, we all wanted to see hard evidence. Birds milled in all directions as we placed final touches of soybean stalks on blinds to cover up any bare spots. Mays fanatical flare for detail spoke of his extensive experience at hunting snow geese. I lay in my layout blind and realized how fortunate I was to be in such a part of such a spectacular event. I have enjoyed many types of hunts in my six decades of life, but I had never witnessed anything quite that spectacular. We all voiced our hopes that thousands of snow geese would descend upon us. Tens of thousands birds flew over us. May turned on his e-callers as the North wind picked up. The wind breathed life into the thousand deke spread. The set looked very convincing to me. I could only wonder what the real McCoys thought. The answer to my thoughts came quickly. A pair of snows peeled from a large skein of high flyers and lost altitude quickly. Chad Dwire nailed the first single that banked and soared into the set. Congratulations echoed as Boom, Mays’ incredible one-year-old black Lab raced to the downed bird and retrieved it to hand. The tone for the day had been set. A lone blue goose swung low to the right and Jim Girton flipped it with the first shot from his new shotgun, a great way to baptize a new goose gun. Singles, pairs and occasional small groups teased us relentlessly as they banked, careened and turned to check out the spread. I secretly wondered if all the shooters gripped their shotguns as tightly as I gripped my video camera each time a goose came near our effective shooting range. The continual sight of such wild, beautiful creatures dropping hundreds of feet from bright, blue skies to investigate kept hearts pumping. Dwire dropped a blue that snuck in with one clean shot. A short lull in the action followed and May announced that we would make a change in the set again. “Thin ‘em out,” he instructed. “The aggressive feed is over. Move some the decoys out beyond teh current edges of the set. Create small family groups.” Mays call worked like a charm and the shooting action picked up again. The Ohio boys laughed and goaded one another as some geese dropped at the reports of their shotguns, while others escaped unscathed. They clearly enjoyed the snow goose hunt of their life as unbelievable numbers of snows and blues kept coming and coming and coming our direction. I kept hearing them mumble, “This is so unreal. Never seen anything close to these numbers of snows.” The three Ohio boys party and another of May’s groups, just three miles away, harvested over 80 blues and snows. And, they were well on their way to repeating the feat when I left them early the next afternoon. I scratched my head on the long drive home, pondering how to best tell the almost unbelievable story of what I had experienced. My best idea...call Perry May at 573-421-0093 or e-mail him at: perry@iyfoutfitters.com. He can paint a better picture of what to expect.

MayaMazing Turkey Hunt

HUNTING THE YUCATAN JUNGLES FOR OCELLATED TURKEY

by Bill Cooper After beating down a rugged, mountainous jungle road in a 4-wheel drive vehicle for almost two hours, elation swept over my son, Jayson Cooper, and I as Tiki lights broke into view. The headlights of the Montero illuminated a well thought out jungle wilderness camp as Ruben Encalada, our driver and General Manager of Maya Amazing Outfitters, swung the vehicle into a dirt parking space surrounded by towering Piich trees, the sprawling favorites of spider monkeys and Tarzan types. Overwhelmed by the magic of this remote place in the southern part of Campeche State, we knew we were about to enter a world of hunting like few will ever experience. We would spend the next few days hunting Ocellated turkeys much like the ancient Mayans. Jordi Gene, the owner of the outfitting service, is a big man. He has a smile to match his stature. His massive hand swallowed mine as we met outside the dining tent. “Welcome to the jungle,” he said excitedly. “Your adventure is about to begin.” Camp staff members quickly stowed our gear in an enormous, luxurious wall tent, complete with a portable air conditioner. Over-sized cots looked sufficient to handle even the largest guests. A portable shower and bathroom sat only a few meters down the hill. The dining tent and kitchen had been carefully planned and were conveniently placed 20 yards way. As toucans croaked a camp welcome, I quickly determined that I had become a resident of the most well organized wilderness camp I had ever seen. Encalada and Gene covered every aspect of the camp over a fabulous dinner. Plans for the next day’s hunt brought our day of excitement to a nervous peak. Guides Fransico “Pancho” Sambranis and Juan Carlos Lechuga introduced themselves and sported convincing smiles as Gene explained that the young guides had scouted the jungle thoroughly before our arrival and had successsfully located several pavos. Four a.m. would come early the next morning, so Jayson and I elected to turn in soon after dinner. We had endured a long day of travel. “I am so excited I don’t think I can go to sleep,” Jayson whispered. I understood, but secretly reveled in the fact that my son would share the jungle experience. Coffee, juice, cereal and muffins awaited us in the dining tent at 4:15 a.m. Jayson trembled with anticipation of the idea of being the first shooter while I filmed the adventure. Gene had fitted him with a Bennelli Black Eagle 12 gauge the night before. Our guides showed up ahead of time and already had daypacks loaded with water and snacks. Our foursome loaded into the 4-wheel drive and rumbled through the rough jungle roads for 45 minutes before pulling off onto a grown over logging road. Juan Carlos and Pancho quickly unloaded our cameras and hunting gear. Juan handed Jayson three 2 3/4-inch shells in size BB. He explained that the large shot penetrated the jungle vegetation very well. As a last tip, before heading into the foreboding darkness of the jungle, Juan instructed Jayson to shoot a turkey in the body, unlike our custom of shooting birds back home in the head and neck. Juan made an assuring gesture hat the heavy loads would do the job. Sweat soaked my back as we headed down the old logging road. I secretly envied Jayson’s new RedHead Stalker Light II camo shirt and Under Armour Lightweight Performance camo pants. Both garments whisked the profuse sweat away from his body rapidly. My much older lightweight camo proved effective, but fell far behind the performance of Jayson’s clothing. The jungle wise guides stepped off down the trail at a brisk pace. Our small headlamps became worth their weight in gold as we traipsed along behind. We had been instructed to stay within an arms length of the guides by hunt camp manager Jose Enrique Camara. Becoming lost in the jungles of the Yucatan is serious business. Miles of inhospitable jungle lay between us and the nearest improved road. Guatemala lay 50 jungle miles to the south. My line of work keeps me in reasonable physical condition even though I am 63 years old. Jayson is a cage fighting promoter and stays in superb physical shape. Any hunter thinking about venturing to the Yucatan jungles should begin a well structured exercise program long before making a trip. Our guides spent considerable time the previous evening to locate birds on relatively flat terrain. A half mile down the trail, the duo halted our advance. The unmistakeable bongo-like beginning of the ocellated turkey’s singing (gobble) rang through the dark jungle, sending a tingle of excitement down my spine. The moment at hand seemed like an impossible dream. The melodious notes reached a high pitch, which woke me from my temporary inattention, and dropped off to a series of short chops. Nervous anticipation caused me to swallow hard. I sipped my water bottle both to calm my nerves and replace the fluids I had so quickly lost. Staying hydrated is paramount to staying healthy in the jungle. Jayson chattered with excitement as the gobbler sounded off again. His first attempt to take a marvelously colored ocellated turkey rapidly approached. We quickened our pace as the guides resumed their stalk towards the bird singing well over a half mile away. As we closed the distance, Juan Carlos and Pancho stopped again to get a final fix on the bird’s location. I felt good and confident. Our guides’ expertise in the jungle had quickly become evident. Too, my concerns about traveling in the jungle had been dissipated by my extremely lightweight Under Armour boots, which cushioned my feet against the ever present rocks and downed timber. Confidence in your equipment goes a long way towards bolstering your abilities to get the job done in the jungle. The ocellated gobbler sounded off once more, less than 75 yards away, just off the left side of the faint trail. Pancho moved up for a closer look and soon slowly signaled for Jayson to quietly sneak toward him. Pancho carefully pointed to the roosting bird high in a Red Chaca tree. Jayson stared at me indicating that he wanted me to move into position to film the action. The silhouette of a large Meleagris Ocellata stood out against the rapidly fading darkness. Jayson slowly and cautiously raised the Benelli to his shoulder and waited for Pancho’s instructions to shoot.Our foursome had successfully completed a stalk on a wild ocellated jungle bird, just as the Mayans had done hundreds of years before us. The 12-gauge roared and the first ocellated turkey of the hunt tumbled to the ground. Jayson danced in the dim light while Pancho and Juan Carlos raced through the jungle to claim the hunter’s prize. Dozens of photos later, we made the long hike out, loaded our gear and headed back to camp for a splendid breakfast and siesta before heading out for the afternoon hunt. Our arrival back at camp sparked a celebratory gathering. Gene, Encalada, Hunt Manager Jose Enrique Camara, Camp Manager Alonso Puerto and the camp staff greeted us. Everyone listened as Jayson retold the story of his hunt. An incredible honor fell heavily on his shoulders when “The Legend of the Yucatan”, elderly Senor Alfrevo Lechuga shook his hand, embraced him and extended his personal congratulations for a successful hunt. During his lifetime, Lechuga earned the reputation as the greatest jaguar hunter in all of the Yucatan. Our air conditioned tent relaxed us quickly. Siestas are a very important part of a jungle hunting camp. The heat and humidity saps ones strength quickly. Paying attention to proper amounts of rest and water and food intake is absolutely necessary for staying healthy in the jungle. A variety of game birds exist in the Yucatan jungles. We spent our afternoons pursuing Crested Guans and Curassows. Our superb guides knew where each of the species lived in the dense jungles and lead us to success. Additionally, they pointed out eagles, toucans, monkeys, brocket deer and parakeets. Pancho noted an eight inch wide trail which ribboned through the jungle. My imagination flashed back to scary jungle movies of my childhood when he told us the litter free path had been created by millions of army ants during the night. Jayson filmed my hunt for a beautifully colored ocellated turkey as well. Awe overcame both of us when we observed the two inch plus needle sharp spurs on our birds. Locals have the uncanny habit of removing the spurs from ocellated birds they harvest and taping them to the legs of their fighting roosters. Despite our extensive turkey hunting experience, our pair of ocellated turkeys became our most prized turkey harvests. As side trips, Jayson bow hunted for peccary and I sat in a tower blind overlooking a water hole watching for a puma. Neither of us scored, but our respected water holes held heavy amounts of sign. We will be attempting to take those animals on our next trip. Water holes are magnets for yellow flies, which have a heavy bite, and black gnats. It would have been impossible to withstand the steady attacks from insects without my RedHead 3D Evolution Suit which doubled a a bug suit. It added minimal heat retention while keeping hordes of biting bugs at bay. A RedHead Bug Suit will definitely be in my bags for the next trip. Our grand adventure with Maya Amazing Outfitters proved the best of my life. A professional staff, well organized camp, excellent food, and above all, superb hunting, created a hunters dream come true deep in the wild jungles of the southern Yucatan. I knew as soon as I entered camp that the operation would be first class. Every direction I looked, I saw RedHead equipment, gun cases, packs, camo clothing, caps and RedHead seat covers in the Maya Amazing monster truck. And unbelievably, internet service and satellite phones gave this camp the ultimate in up to date technology. For more information about this incredible jungle hunting adventure contact: www.mayamazingoutfitters.com.

Turkey Hunters Wanted in the Yucatan

TURKEY HUNTERS WANTED IN CAMPECHE Every turkey hunter, at one time or another, has drooled over a prime piece of turkey hunting real estate and secretly wished that the “no trespassing” sings instead read: “Turkey Hunters Wanted”. Well, look no further. Campeche State, Mexico, in the Yucatan Peninsula, has tacked up the “Turkey Hunters Wanted” sign, so to speak. The Catch The catch is that there is no catch. “This is a grand opportunity for turkey hunters to play a key role in the conservation of the ocellated turkey in the state of Campeche in the Yucatan Peninsula,” said professional turkey hunter Ray Eye. “Hunters were the first conservationists and they have been responsible for massive, landscape style conservation efforts which have not only brought many animals in our country from the brink of extinction, but through professional management and improvement of habitat have brought numbers of many animals to all time population highs. Hunters accomplished these amazing feats through their dedication to our natural resources and through expenditures of hundreds of millions of their hard earned dollars for license fees, guns, ammo and myriads of hunting equipment. Turkey hunters are among the most dedicated of conservationists and Campeche needs them and their money now to insure the future of the magnificent ocellated turkey.” Limited Range Ocellated turkeys are found in a 50,000 square mile area of the Yucatan Peninsula in the states of Quintana Roo, Campeche and Yucatan. Birds are found in the dense jungles throughout their range where they roost in tall trees to escape predators like ocelots and jagaurundis. It is not known exactly how many ocellated turkeys remain in the wild, but as forest habitats decline, the birds feel the pressure. In the state of Campeche, the ocellated turkey has responded to plentiful food sources from agricultural crops like, corn, milo and soybeans, according to wildlife biologist Jon McRoberts of Texas Tech University. “I have witnessed flocks of up to 500 birds in fields surrounded by jungle,” he stated. Prized Birds “Any turkey hunter would consider the ocellated turkey a wonderful trophy,” said outdoor writer Steve Felgenhauer, who traveled to Campeche in February with a group of writers to hunt the birds. “They are by far the most beautiful of the turkey species. The iridescent colors of their feathers are astounding and they sport long, sharp, spurs which may reach 2.5 inches.” “Turkeys are turkeys everywhere,” commented Eye. “I have watched turkeys for countless man hours from Florida to Hawaii and ocellated birds act just like the rest of them. The thing that sets them apart from the other species, however, is their brilliant plumage and the bright blue heads with orange knots. Their gobble is called singing down here and begins about 20 minutes before daylight. It begins with a series of 6-to-7 bongo like bass tones which quickens in both cadence and volume until a crescendo is reached. The call ends with a melodious, high-pitched serious of chops. These birds are absolutely astounding in full strut.” Traditionally, ocellated turkeys have been hunted in the deep jungles where hunters shot them out of trees or simply waited in a blind until a bird walked by. Few people seem to call the birds. Known for his affinity for calling wild turkeys, Ray Eye is determined to change that situation. “While on a trip to Campeche with the author in 2011, we discovered that huge flocks of birds utilize the agricultural fields. I recorded their calls and will soon have an electronic caller (legal in Mexico) to call these birds. I am sure they will respond like their northern counterparts, making hunting them even more fun. Every serious turkey hunter should experience hunting these birds in this land of jungles and Mayan temples.” Giving the Birds Value McRoberts is conducting a three year research project on ocellated turkeys in Campeche State. The study is a cooperative effort between Texas Tech University, the National Wild Turkey Federation, conservation groups in Mexico and Jorge Sansores of Snook Inn Hunting Lodge. “This is one of the first studies of its kind,” stated McRoberts. “Not much is known about ocellated turkeys. I am trapping birds and placing radios on them. Through radio telemetry I am able to track the birds. The information which I gather will help me establish cause-specific mortality factors, survival rates, movements of birds and their habitat needs. I am also investigating peak gobbling and nesting activity.” Most studies done in the past were conducted in National Parks where the birds were accustomed to people and exhibited few qualities of wild birds. McRoberts and his colleagues believe that their three year study (2010 to 2013) of the ecology of the species will provide enough insight to allow them to make management suggestions. The information gathered from the study will allow wildlife managers to establish management plans and hunting season regulations for the ocellated turkey. McRoberts stated that Campeche needs hunters now to help conserve the ocellated turkey. “Subsistence hunting is a problem for ocellated turkeys. American hunters coming here creates a value on these birds. An established value, in the eyes of local people, will lead to conservation of this unique species. We need lots of turkey hunters to come to Campeche to spend their money hunting ocellated turkeys. It benefits rural economies by providing jobs and through the combined efforts of scientific management plans and the cooperation of local people we can insure the continuance of ocellated turkey populations in Campeche.” Getting Involved “The area around Campeche is very safe,” stated Eye. “I have not experienced a single problem in my travels in the Yucatan.” Hunters wishing to pursue the ocellated turkey may contact Jorge Manos at the Campeche Tourism Commission at jemanos@campeche.gob.mx. or Jorge Sansores at snookinnjorge@hotmail.com.