Incredible Turkey Season

Incredible Turkey Season Ozark Revelations Bill Cooper Sometimes the stars align themselves perfectly. Such has been the case with my 2016 spring turkey season. I began my season at a small media camp in Eminence, Missouri. Jim Anderson, owner of Shady Lane Motel and Cabins hosted myself, Kansas City writer Ryan Miloshewski and Land Agent Joey Purpura, from Kansas. We toured the beautiful Eminence area and traversed hills, hollows and Current River in search of gobblers. We all had close encounters, but no one connected. I spent opening day with old friend retired National Park Service ranger Bill Terry. He had heard numerous gobblers at our spot the day, before, but lockjaw befell the gobblers the day we hunted together. That proved just fine. Bill and I caught up. Tuesday morning I hunted with “Ray Eye the turkey spy.” Often called a “Living Legend,” Eye is an incredible turkey hunter. He coaxed a gobbler off the limb. It landed 60 yards away. A hen landed next to it and she lead the gobbler straight away. Again, it was good to catch up. Wednesday morning I stopped by to check in with Bill Terry. The gobbler had not recovered from their lockjaw malady. Bill wanted to make a move, so I headed home. Terry’s e-mail beat me home. He killed a big gobbler at 8 a.m. Thursday night Dian and traveled to Licking, Missouri to hook up again with Ray Eye and a host of outdoor writers ann personalities including, former trout biologist Spence Turner, Linda Powell of Mossberg, Melanie Swearingen, of the National Wild Turkey Federation, John Sabati, Hawaii turkey guide, Tony Caggiano, World Slam Adventures and Scott Davis, host of “Urban Hunting TV,” out of Nashville, Tennessee. Davis made the trip home with me. I called and filmed the next day while he hunted on Jim DiPardo’s “Rosati Whitetails” property. Overcast weather held the birds down, but I managed to call in four gobblers using a lost call, which is commonly used in the fall. Scott harvested his first Missouri Gobbler. I returned to “Rosati Whitetails” on Saturday and hunted alone. Very few times, if ever, have I herd so many gobblers sounding off in one location. They shook the leaves on the trees. I came close to scoring early, but hens stole my gobblers away. Around 8:30 a.m., I heard 4 gobblers sounding off a half mile away. I called and they gobbled, Each time they sounded closer. I began a move towards them. I called and both me and the birds closed ten distance. I didn’t realize how fast the birds were coming. They had to have run most of the distance. I figured I could advance another two hundred yards. Total surprise overwhelmed me as I cleared a cedar tree. ll four gobblers stood 30 yards away. They bolted, obviously more surprised than me. Three went to my left into brush. One bolted to the right, in the clear. I rolled it. Fried turkey breast never tasted better. Monday morning, of the second week of turkey season, I returned, again, to “Rosati Whitetails.” DiPardo agreed to video for me. The early morning scenario played out much like my Saturday hunt. Gobbler seemed to be everywhere. We heard birds in every direction, but none were close. Birds gobbled on ten roost for 30 minutes, then went completely silent. DiPardo mentioned food. I informed him that the birds would not gobble again until 9a.m. or so. We had plenty of time for breakfast. We sat down to a fabulous breakfast of bacon, sausage, egg, toast, biscuits and gravy and American fries at Country Bob’s Cafe. We left with full bellies and extra heavy eyelids. Naps in the woods appeared eminent. We walked to a point, set up and I began calling. Immediately two gobblers replied, across Jim’s lake and far over a hill. On my next series of calls, three, maybe four gobblers, bellowed from a ridge not far away. We hustled towards the ridge, stopping every 100 yards to call again. We got response every time we called and the birds were traveling fast. We stopped within 200 yards of the birds and called. The gobbled, but seemed to have stopped their advance. we moved up anther 50 yards and reset. I cackled on my Bean Creek mouth call. All three birds doubled gobbled less than 100 yards away. Within two minutes I caught movement of black bodies with red crowns. The gobbler close din quickly. The lead gobbler trend sideways at 55 yards. Along, black beard as thick as a paint brush swung as the bird walked. I knew immediately that I wanted to kill that bird. I have killed 91 turkeys in my career, but have never taken one over 23 pounds. this bird looked to easily be in the 25 pound class. I may have been able to kill the giant bird, but 55 yards is a little further than I like to shoot. I had great confidence in the Spectra Shot White Lightning #6’s in my shotgun, but reasoned that here was a little too much brush between me and the patriarch. The trio of grand gobblers became nervous, flipping their massive wings and ambling to ten left. In an attempt to regain their attention, I clucked sharply on a Bean Creek glass call. A thundering gobble roared from 30 yards, directly behind our location. I spotted the majestic tom, still in full strut. As it strutted behind a big black oak tree, I turned quickly on my seat cushion to face the gobbler. Incredibly, the gobbler strutted to within three yards of Jim’s location. I could not shoot. I moved just slightly, hoping to get the bird’s attention. My tactic worked like charm. The big tom, caught my movement and began slowly moving away from Jim’s location. When the gobbler put a safe distance between himself and Jim, I sent a load of White Lightning in his direction and the strike put my second gobbler of the 2016 season on the ground. We loaded my bird and our equipment in a Can-Am Defender UTV, provided by Cowtown USA and headed to the house, to very happy turkey hunters. You can follow Bill Cooper and Outside Agin Adventures at: www.aoutdoortv.com, www.Facebook/Outsidealways, www.outsideagainadventures.blogspot.com and the St. James Leader Journal and their Community blogs.

Jewels of Little Piney Creek

Jewels of Little Piney Creek Bill Cooper It has been said that trout live in beautiful paces. Some places, however, are more beautiful than others. The Ozark Mountains of Missouri and Arkansas have been eons in the making and in the process the Great Artist spared no effort in designing gorgeous trout waters which meander through the region. Most are grand jewels of the trout order and each harbors magnificent, tiny jewels of its own that any trout monger would trade his favorite wand to discover. Little Piney Creek is a diminutive clear water stream in the south central Ozarks region of Missouri. Arguably, it is one of Missouri’s highest quality spring creek wild trout streams. Formed by several year round flow springs, the Little Piney meanders its way through traditional spectacular Ozark topography. Rugged hills, covered with hardwood ridges that support whitetail deer, wild turkey, mountain lions and black bear, provide the perfect back drop for the adventurous fly angler who hopes to experience all the wild jewels of an enchanted trout stream. The upper section of Little Piney Creek is classified by the Missouri Department of Conservation as Blue Ribbon Waters in order to protect the wild trout population found there. Only artificial flies and lures may be used in this section. One trout, over 18 inches constitutes a daily limit. Very few anglers choose to reduce such a magnificent fish to creel. Rainbows of such proportions are limited in Little Piney Creek and knowledgeable anglers realize how long it takes for a fish to reach that size. The greatest reward in releasing a trophy trout is the fact that one may be allowing another fisherman to enjoy the same experience with the crown jewel of the Little Piney. Further downstream lies the White Ribbon waters. This section is stocked. Those who want may reduce fish to creel. The Blue Ribbon section starts near the headwaters, but the most productive area of Little Piney Creek is located near and downstream of the springs near Highway 63. There is access at the Highway 63 bridge, Lane Spring Recreation Area, Milldam Hollow and Vida Slab. Fly fishing Little Piney Creek is best during spring and fall. Both seasons provide dramatic backdrops of color. Spring brings a bouquet of splendid wildflowers and flowering trees. Columbines, tall lobelias and violets blanket the stream side. Flowering dogwood and redbuds paint the sunrise for those early risers who enjoy the bejeweled, wild atmosphere as much as catching colorful rainbows. Too, water flows are increased in spring and fall giving anglers better fishing opportunities. Rainbows may be caught in the summer months, but low water can limit trout holding habitat. Long, light leaders are required because of the intense light. Trout become unceasingly wary and only the stealthiest of trout anglers will enjoy success. Little Piney Creek supports a diversity of aquatic insects and crustaceans. Blue-winged olives and brown drakes are fairly common. Mayflies and caddisflies are abundant as are small crayfish and freshwater shrimp. Imitations of these important food items are endless, but every angler have their favorites. If you want to match the most prominent food sources, stick with generic nymph in sizes 14-18 and dries in sizes 12-16. Too, Piney Creek rainbows can be fooled with glo-bugs, woolly buggers and foam flies. The creek has good hatches and blue-winged olives, adams, tan midges, elk hair caddis and pheasant tail bead head nymphs will get you into fish. Cracklebacks and renegades also work well at times. Small grasshoppers and big ants work well in late summer. Fish them along tall banks. They can be deadly. The brown drake hatch in September can provide fast action. These big brown mayflies do not emerge in massive numbers, but do provide a short lived frenzy of feeding action. Timing is everything for this jewel of the fall. “Matching the hatch” may seem a tongue in cheek statement to many, but serious fly anglers understand the importance of the idea. Presenting fly imitations that represent something other than what is present in Little Piney creek at the time, is an effort in frustration. Aquatic insects which are found in one Ozark watershed may not necessarily be found in another. Time invested in research before tackling the Little Piney will pay dividends. Google “Ozark Hatch Charts” to find out which aquatic insects hatch in a given month. You will be well ahead of the game and the quality of your trip will improve proportionately. The rainbows of Little Piney Creek are truly stunning. Brightly colored fish are attributed to hybridization between McCloud redbands and the Arlee strain introduced by the Missouri Department of Conservation. Too, rumor has it that there may have been a private stock of another strain introduced long ago, most likely Shasta or Gila. Regardless, when you catch a stunning Little Piney Creek rainbow, you immediately realize that you have experienced the Crown Jewel of the many jewels which Little Piney Creek has to offer.

Outdoor Writers Converge on Gaston's Whte River Resort

Outdoor Writers Converge on Gaston’s White River Resort Outdoor Revelations Bill Cooper 415/16 “Bill, I’d like to invite you to the Gaston’s writers event this year,” said Ron Wong, a Memphis based outdoor writer and radio personality over the phone. “Count me in,” I responded immediately. Larry Rea, an outdoor radio show host from Memphis has organized the event for nine years. “Jim Gaston ran the resort for doubt 45 years and welcomed our outdoor writers with welcome arms. His grandson, Clint, is following, graciously, in his grandfather’s footsteps.” Gaston’s White River Resort is the #1 trout fishing resort in America. Gaston’s began in 1958, when Al Gaston purchased 20 acres, 6 cottages and 6 boats on the banks of the White River, in Lakeview, Arkansas. As thy say, the rest is history. Gaston’s is now the #1 trout fishing resort in the nation. The resort now covers over 400 acres with two miles of river frontage, has 79 cottages ranging in size from two double beds and a bath to a two-story cottage with 10 private bedrooms. The original 6 boats have grown to over 70, with a massive state-of-the art dock to house them all. Additions over the years have brought a world class restaurant, with a view of the famous White River, a private club, pool, gift shop, tennis court, duck pond, game room, nature trails and a 3,200 foot airstrip. To top it off, Gaston’s offers a Conference Lodge which seats 125 people. Eighteen outdoor writers, radio ad TV show hosts converged on Gaston’s White River Resort in mid-April to enjoy the grand amenities of the resort and test the world class trout fishery. Craig Hart, of Pure Fishing, provided lures and baits for the media anglers. Attendees included: Kristine Houtman, of Crystal Bay, Minnesota and Fish on Marketing, Gil Lackey, of Nashville and president of the Southeastern Outdoor Press Association, Jimmy Jacobs, of Marietta, Georgia Examiner, Jill Rohrbach, Arkansas Department of Parks and Tourism,Steve ‘Wildman’ Wilson, Trey Reid, and Scott Wyatt of the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission TV Crew, Kelly Bostian, Tulsa World, Bill Cooper, St. James, Missouri, Outside Again Adventures TV - Online, Mike Masterson, Harrison , Arkansas, Arkansas Democrat-Gazette, Larry Rea, Outdoors with Larry Rea on ESPN, Memphis, Rob Simbeck, Nashville, Duck’s Unlimited, Glenn Wheeler, Harrison, Arkansas, Outdoor Writer and Photographer, Brad Wiegemann, Outdoor Media Expert, Ron Wong, Co-host, Outdoors with Larry Rea on ESPN Memphis, Polly Dean, Market Place and Tackle Talk, Brent Frazee, Kansas City Star, Gary Garth, Louisville Courier-Journal, and Glynn Harris, outdoor radio show host and editor, from Ruston, Louisiana. After an incredible meal of Duck Confit, and Creme Brule, prepared by Chef Rick Gollinger and a good nights rest, media members teamed up with local expert Gaston guides for their first day of trout fishing on the White River. Odds of catching trout in the White River rest high in an anglers favor. The Arkansas Game and Fish Commission’s stocking schedule includes the following numbers of fish for the White River in 2016: 966,520 rainbow trout, 13,600 brook trout , 110,000 brown trout and 130,000 cutthroat trout. It’s not a matter of catching trout in the White River, it is a matter of how many you can catch in a day’s time. I enjoyed the day with heavily experienced trout guide Joe Hicks and first time trout angler Kristine Houtman, of Minnesota. Kristine authors children's outdoor books, including “A Second Chance” and “A Whirlwind Opener.” They can be found on Amazon. Kristine quickly caught on to trout fishing and caught impressive numbers of rainbows, several of which were guests at our first shore lunch. Chef Gollinger and crew prepared a memorable shore lunch of fresh caught trout, country fried chicken, baked river beans, Dutch oven cobbler and Dutch oven biscuits. Eyelids waxed heavy during our afternoon of trout fishing, but everyone continued to boat fish. Chef Gollinger’s evening meal pushed our palettes into overdrive with Tornados of Venison ala Dunkirk, twin petite farm raised New Zealand loin steaks pan seared presented topped with grilled shrimp and sauce bearnaise served with stuffed zucchini twin mousses of carrot and broccoli accompanied by fresh chive duchess potatoes. After dinner entertainment consisted of grand performances of pickin’ and grinnin’ by members of our media group Larry Rea, Glynn Harris and others. A grand breakfast buffet spurned energy for a second day of trout fishing. I again shared a boat with Joe Hicks, accompanied by Ron Wong, of Memphis. Ron is an experienced White River trout fisherman and quickly put a 20-inch brown trout in the boat using a stick bait. I copied Wong’s tactics and soon put a nice brown on the scoreboard myself. After catching several brown trout, we switched to black jigs and caught my beautiful rainbow trout. Hicks donated several to the shore lunch, while Wong and I froze some to take home. Our second meal on the banks of the White River gave new meaning to the words: “shore lunch.” Chef Rick and crew prepared Black-n-Blue pork chops, tomato basil salad, and three bean salad, baked squash, and foil wrapped Yukon gold potatoes on the coals, and Dutch oven cobbler and biscuits. Stuffed to the gills, Wong and I struggled with the idea of more fishing. The weather came to our rescue, however. Heavy rains moved in pushing most of the writers back to their cottages for an afternoon of writing and napping. Gaston’s White River Resort caters to families and corporate groups. Check them out at www.gastons.com or e-mail them: gastons@gastons.com.

Mountain Bike for Turkeys

Mountain Bike for Turkeys Bill Cooper 4/10/16 Spring turkey hunting often involves hiking many miles, particularly if the gobblers do not cooperate. Or, if running and gunning is your style, the necessary miles can eat up a lot of shoe leather and personal strength. If that is your case, you may want to consider riding a mountain bike into your next turkey hunting destination. My wife and I were in the second mile of a three mile hike, in the dark, which became necessary to reach our turkey hunting destination before sunup. We broke our stride when a small beam of light bounced up the logging road behind us. “Someone else will be hunting in here today,” Dian said. “That’s a flashlight.” “Well that guy is in a big hurry,” I said. “He’s on a mountain bike and covering ground in a hurry.” A minute later the biker over took us and passed us up, headed in the direction of our honey hole. We worried that our long hike into a public hunting area might be doomed by the guy who got there first on a mountain bike. I determined then and there that would not happen to me again. I would become a mountain biker, too. Twenty minutes later we came to a fork in the sparsely graveled road. Fortunately, the biker went to the right. We were headed left into steeper terrain. “We were lucky he went right,” Dian said. “Yeah, we could have lost our spot even though we started very early. That young man is smart,” I replied. “He covered a lot of ground in a hurry and it seemed relatively effortless.” Had the biker taken our turn in the road, he would have arrived well ahead of us. He would have had to park his bike for the climb up a steep hill, but he still would have been well ahead of us. We would have never caught up to him. I never saw the biker again, but every time I hiked into a public hunting area, which had a network of gravel or logging roads, I thought about the advantages of riding a mountain bike. I had to join the growing crowd of mountain bike turkey hunters. I have always loved to walk and still do. I have never purchased an ATV or similar vehicle. I stubbornly clung to my ideology that walking is healthy and that hunting on foot is the way that it should be done. I turned 64 in 2013 and faced some long hikes for the fall turkey hunting season. Still in relatively good shape, I struggled with the idea of buying a bike. I began scouting a month before the season opener. Right off the bat I did not find turkeys in their usual haunts. I needed to cover a lot more ground and do it quickly. Doing it on foot was going to be an extreme challenge and time was running short. I bought a mountain bike. The area I hunted had a long, sloping hill for the first mile. I covered the three miles into the heart of the area in a matter of minutes. When I arrived at a steep hill, I simply chained my bike to a tree and continued my scouting trip on foot. However, I had put myself far ahead of what I would have accomplished on foot. I immediately knew that a mountain bike would be a part of my turkey hunting arsenal in the future. My scouting trips became a daily affair. I covered 8 to 10 miles a day, well over twice what I covered on foot. Not only did I scout more area, I had a wonderful time riding my new found means of transportation. I expanded my turkey searches into new areas, knowing that I could cover lots of ground and still be back at the truck at a designated time. Riding my new mountain bike had both physical and psychological benefits. I found that I was anxious to scout more often. Too, the ease of riding the bike soothed my mind from thoughts of making long, hard hikes into potential turkey hunting areas. As a bonus, the increased number of trips I made helped to get me into better physical condition. Turkey season became a cinch. I did not experience the usual tired, worn out feelings which accompany turkey season after the first week. I soon began adding accessories to my mountain bike. A headlamp on the handlebars made for easy riding in the dark. A series of straps made it possible for me to strap my backpack and shotgun onto the bike as well, freeing my hands for steering and making my rides much safer. If you want to purchase a mountain bike for hunting, buy the best bike you can afford. Turkey hunting often takes place in rough, rugged terrain. Well built bikes will serve your needs better than cheaper bikes. Tires take a beating, so purchase tough tires to prevent flats. Pushing a bike out of a rugged area is not much fun. Buy the attachments like water bottle racks, too. You will be happy you did. Riding my mountain bike while turkey hunting is now second nature. I wish I had thought of it sooner. I could have covered a lot more territory in the 40 years I have been chasing wild turkeys. Too, the exhilaration of passing up other turkey hunters on the way into a prime turkey are is priceless. However, one guy got me last year as I passed him and his hunting buddy. “Well, that old guy must be smarter than he looks,’ he said smuggly.

Big Bass Bite Is On!

The Big Bass Bite is On Bill Cooper 4/5/16 As water temperatures warm in early spring, largemouth bass begin to make a move towards shallow water areas to spawn. The spawn offers anglers one of their best opportunities of the year to catch a really big bass. That time has arrived. The big bass bite is on. A few big bass have been caught over the last few weeks, but last week kicked the bite into high gear. Alhonna Resort and Marina, at Lake Ozark mile marker 8, held a tournament over the weekend The big bass weighed in at 7.88 pounds. I was on the lake with Chad Brauer two weeks ago and he found several bass in the 4-to-6 pound range half back in the coves. Water temperatures had climbed enough that the annual migration for the spawn had begun. Last Thursday I met Cowtown USA pro staffer John Hewkin, from Sullivan, at public beach #2 on Lake of the Ozarks to film as he pre-fished in preparation fro an upcoming tournament. John began his bass search for big largemouths half way back in the coves, as that had been the location of the bruisers for several days. He quickly became worried when he failed to turn a strike on his War Eagle spinner bait coupled with a white Strike King trailer with the two tails dyed chartreuse. John hit every corner of each boat dock he encountered, plus rocky banks in between the docks without a single strike over a period of an hour. Rather than beat a dead horse, Hewkin made a move. Water temperatures had cooled over several days. Hewkin’s experience told him that the fish had more than likely moved back out to deeper water. John quickly brought his Ranger 521 up on plane and arrived within minutes at a main lake point being pounded by strong wind and waves. “Hopefully we will find a big one here,” he said. Less than a dozen casts later, Hewkin leaned back hard on his rod. He’d struck gold. “Oooh, my gosh,” he quipped. “This is a really big fish. Look at that,” he barked as a broad, dark fish rolled on the surface. ‘It’s a monster.” Monster indeed. John beamed as he discovered just how big the sow weighed, 8.4 pounds. “That is the biggest bass I have ever caught in a tournament or tournament pre-fish day,” he said. John allowed me to take a couple of quick photos and gently returned the big momma bass to the lake so that she could complete the annual spawning cycle that Mother Nature had set into motion. “She’s been busy,” John said. “The whole underneath potion of her tail had been worn off from fanning a nest location.” Hewkin mumbled about his big catch as he trolled on down the bank. I’d like to find her again during the tournament. Wonder if I’ll find more like that one?” He answered his own question a few minutes later. Another big female inhaled the big chartreuse spinnerbait. John had discovered a pattern. That one went perhaps four pounds. I oohed and awed at the brilliant purple colors of a clump of redbud trees that dotted ten banks of a small cove we were about to enter. True to the emerging pattern John had discovered, he whipped his rod backwards again, setting the hook on another, obviously big bass. “It’s another monster,” Hewkin yelled to me as I filmed the entire battle from the rocky bank. A broad shouldered bass rolled up next to John’s Ranger boat. After a couple of unsuccessful attempts to lip the thrashing fish, John connected and swung the hefty bass aboard. “Woo-whoooo,” he yelled in triumph. Euphoria had set in. Every bass angler dreams or such days on the water. John released the six pound brute and quickly continued the search for the next fish. Near the back of a small cove, off the main lake, he connected with another fish, this one a bit smaller. The three pound largemouth carried a large crappie jig in the corner of it’s mouth. John chucked at the fact that a crappie fish more than likely suspicioned they had lost a monster crappie. He quickly removed both his spinnerbait and the crappie jig from the fish and returned it to the lake. The sun began to peak from behind the clouds and soon brightened the otherwise overcast sky. Almost immediately the big fish bite slowed as quickly as it had begun. “The big girls are probably moving deeper or to cover to get out of the light,” John explained. His next few fish were small males. “These little guys are encouraging, too,” he said. “The males are moving up shallow too, to get ready for the spawn and to guard the nests. Fishing should only get better over the next few weeks” John rounded out the day with thanks to his sponsors and supporters, Cowtown USA, Lew’s Reels and Pitt’s Fishing. Anglers may pick up further bass fishing tips from John Hewkin by checking www.Facebook.com/cowtownUSAinc, or www.Facebook.com/Outsidealways.

Jack's Jake and the Red Blind

JACK’S JAKE AND THE RED BLIND A campfire roars at my feet. Temperatures will drop to 37 degrees tonight. My Cabela’s sleeping bag kept me toasty warm the last two nights as cold rains pelted my tent. Tomorrow will bring the third day of the Missouri spring turkey season. I will hunt alone. I enjoyed the company of Jack Peters the first two days of the season. He is an unusual character, one of those exceptional people that haunt our minds for decades. I will never forget hunting turkeys with this incredible man. Peters knows Current River country very well. The National Park Service transferred him there in 1967 as the first Park Ranger of the newly formed Ozark National Scenic Riverways. He became intrigued with my plans to hold a youth turkey hunting camp in Shannon County for the National Wild Turkey Federation. He quickly volunteered to help. The camp provided an once-in-a-lifetime experience for 10 youngsters from across the state, largely due to Jack’s efforts. Jack Peters is full of surprises. None shocked me more than when he extended an invitation to join him on a spring turkey hunt. I have sense wondered if my poker face concealed my elation. Jack is full of surprises. My heart sank as he explained that we would hunt in separate locations since the spread he referred to as “the turkey farm” held lots of birds. My hope had been to sit side by side with the ex-Park Ranger who knew every hill and holler in Shannon County. I figured, too, that Jack knew the whereabouts of every gobbler around. Jack is full of surprises. The evening I arrived at Jack’s campground, we quickly began laying plans for opening morning. He began by saying, “Bill, I have decided that I want us to hunt together, and I want you to guide me. I have only killed two turkeys in my lifetime.” A feather would have bowled me over. Sleep evaded me. Pelting rain combined with visions of what I hoped to happen the next morning kept me tossing in my cot. The truck wipers swished back and forth across the windshield as we headed north on Highway 19. We both voiced our worries about the rainfall and its effects on turkeys. “We will stay dry,” Jack quipped. “I have a blind in place.” Fortunately the rain subsided before we reached our destination. “Birds don’t gobble much in wet weather,” I explained nervously. We shuffled our feet slowly as we descended a steep slope. The damp grass on the farm lane made footing precarious. Fifty yards into a crescent shaped valley stood Jack’s blind. He had it neatly tucked into the edge of a patch of brush. A small grove of walnut trees stood in a grassy flat directly in front of the blind. A towering hill lay to the right and the long slope we had negotiated in the dark lay to our left. Jack placed three decoys 25-yards from the blind. An old grass covered road entered the field at the base of the ridge to our right. The decoys stood there where the road entered the walnut grove. Jack assured me turkeys would come from the East, down the road right to the decoys. A gobble rang out from far behind us. In response, another gobbler bellowed to the west. Pleasantly surprised, I told Jack we were fortunate to hear anything on a misty morning. Silence dominated the next 30 minutes. I cackled loudly on an H.S. Strut double reed mouth call. A gobbler immediately answered. I called again and two more gobblers chimed in. Within minutes gobblers answered my calls from all four directions. The misty morning had quickly transformed into the best bad weather morning of my turkey hunting career. Several gobblers sounded closer at times. And then they sounded farther away. The gobbling activity continued as long as I kept calling. After 45 minutes of listening to the thundering birds, I decided to quit calling. The toms were not coming closer. They gobbled continually in their lusty attempts to get the hen to come to them. Often, going silent turns the trick. I kept checking the grassy lane to my right in hopes of seeing approaching gobblers. Ten minutes after my last call, I glanced out the left window of the blind. There stood two majestic toms less than 25-yards away. “Gobblers to your left,” I whispered to Jack. He slowly turned his head to locate the birds. For some reason, he had laid his gun in the far left corner of the blind. And he had only killed two turkeys in his lifetime? He slowly crawled across the blind floor to retrieve his shotgun. Meanwhile, I jammed two rounds into my gun. I had not loaded because I could not shoot to the right where the turkeys were supposed to come from. I know better than to believe a turkey hunting partner. Another tom joined the other two birds. They had fed 10 more yards down the lane by the time Jack and I got organized. I clucked softly. The three gobblers snapped to attention, spotted the decoys to their right and began a slow stroll in that direction. The birds stopped in the walnut grove 25-yards in front of our blind. Perfect. I had clearly demonstrated my turkey hunting prowess. “On three,” Jack instructed. “You shoot first,” I replied. I wanted to be sure Jack harvested a bird. Too, I figured when he knocked the first bird down the other two would stand and watch it flop and then I would take my bird. Jack is full of surprises. He missed! “Shoot again,” I yelled. He issed again. I fired at a bird running to the left and missed, too! A perfect plan fell apart in two seconds. Jack and I looked at one another in total disbelief. “How in the xxxx did we miss those birds”? Jack grumbled. We laughed until tears streamed down our cheeks as we recounted again and again what had just happened to us. The blind became unbearably hot by 9:00 a.m. We decided to take a hike and try to work some birds we had heard earlier on the west end of the farm. Two hours and three setups later we had not managed to strike a single bird. Tired and still disgusted with our earlier performance, we headed towards the blind. As we made the turn through the scattered woods to enter the field holding the blind, I stopped in disbelief. Jack’s blind stuck out like a neon sign. It was red. Against the greenery of spring, it was no place to be hiding. Jack whispered, “Look, there are five gobblers in the decoys.” “This ain’t for real,” I muttered. “The regular sonic booms from all the aerial dogfights in this area has warped these birds,” I muttered under I breath. We slowly sat down and crawled to a nearby cedar tree. Over the next 30 minutes I tried to coax the birds across the field. They approached part way three different times, only to return to the decoys by the glowing red blind. The birds had to be aliens. Jack and I decided to backtrack and use the cover of a dry creek bed that we could sneak up and close the distance between us and the turkeys. Our decoy set stood only 20 yards from the edge of the creek. We formulated a plan to call one or more of the birds down the side of the field next to the creek cover, where we would be waiting. All 5 gobblers glanced in my direction when I gave the first series of soft yelps on my mouth call. Next I began soft feeding chatter and scratching in the leaves. Minutes passed before two jakes broke from the group and began feeding in our direction. Ten minutes later the pair of young gobblers stood 15 yards in front of Jack. I tensed expecting the report of his 12-gauge at any second. A cloud of feathers puffed from the lead jake when Jack fired. The other bird stood for a couple of seconds watching his fallen brother, offering me a clear neck shot. I passed. Jack and I hustled towards his bird to investigate. We laughed and joked aloud, happy at the outcome of our well executed plan. I felt a tingle of satisfaction as I congratulated Jack on the harvest of his third wild turkey in his lifetime. Turkey hunting with Current River legend Jack Peters provided a memorable experience. His stories of the cultural and natural history of the area both entertained and educated me. His wit and canny manner challenged my intellect. Too, he provided me a fun-filled day of turkey hunting in the Missouri Ozarks that I will not soon forget. I still laugh when I think of Jack posing proudly with his jake in front of the red blind. Go figure.

Find More Morels

Increase Your Morel Hunting Skills Bill Cooper 3/22/16 Interest in morel hunting has mushroomed in recent years. Competition for the succulent morsels is keen and those who have honed their fungi hunting skills are in the kitchen repeatedly during the season serving up mounds of golden fried morels. Hunters who practice shooting, anglers who cast often, or golfers who spend extra time on the course, all excel at what they do. Time and effort spent improving their sports skills shows off when the chips are down. The best morel hunter in the Ozarks, the late “Spud” Gibson, used to say that it gets into your blood. “I’ve hunted morel mushrooms since I was a boy, “ Gibson said. “By nature I know when they start popping.” Possessing a sixth sense about the appearance of morels is a skill set which is acquired from many years of experience in the woods looking for them come spring time. “Most people these days don’t have the time to dedicate days at a time to hunting morels,” said naturalist Jim DiPardo, a personal friend of Gibson’s. “Gibson was an exceptional woodsman, having been reared in the Ozark Mountains,” DiPardo continued. “I learned a good deal about morels from him and learned a few tricks of my own by ‘burning some shoe’ leather as Ozarkians say. Don’t wait for the sun - A common conception about morel hunting is to wait until the sun pops out after a spring rain. “Morels grow incredibly fast,” Dipardo noted. If all conditions are right and it is going to rain until 3p.m., be there before noon. You may beat someone else to the prize.” Calculate the pop - “Morels begin to emerge when a combination of climactic factors converge,” according to DiPardo. “Part of the mystery of hunting morels is figuring out when temperature, humidity, variance between daytime and nighttime temperatures lessen, and when soil acidity and other factors are just right. When temperatures reach the forties at night and the sixties in the daytime, you better have your pickin’ bag ready. Paying close attention to these factors will greatly improve you success rate of finding newly popped morels.” Don’t trust Mother Nature - “Mother Nature loves to pull tricks,” Gibson used to say. “Just because you found morels in one spot one season, does not mean you will the next. The best plan is to have many locations where you have found morels over the years. Then you will have morels to eat every spring.” Look, look, look - Morels may be found in a variety of locations. However the best locations are usually damp creek or river bottoms. Search around fallen timber that is decaying. Some suggest looking around trees that have just died. Many old timers say that once a tree has lost it’s bark, morels will no longer grow around it. Check inside the gooseberry and multi-flora rose brambles, too. You may be pleasantly surprised. Use your binoculars - I got the shock of my life one spring turkey season. Kevin Small, a guide in north Missouri stopped on a gravel farm road and broke out his binoculars. I thought he was looking for turkeys. “There are dozens of big morels under those maple trees over there,” he announced. “Let’s go get them.” Pack a bag - Be prepared. Pack a bag in your vehicle. The urge to hunt morels may catch you off guard. Small plastic bags or handy, but to insure morels for the future, use a woven mesh bag, such as the ones oranges come in. Spores will fall from the morels you pick, seeding the area for the next season.