D  e  s  e  r  t     E  x  p  o  s  u  r  e    May 2005

Before the Hunt

Getting ready for the start of a hunting season is a bit like training for a marathon.

A couple of months back I wrote a column about what goes on after the actual hunt, from the minute that the critter is down and dead; I used my deer hunt as an example. This month I'd like to explain all that I do before the season begins, and since spring gobbler season is going on right now, I thought I'd speak to you about the preparation that goes into the hunt and is every bit a part of the actual event.

Usually I start to get serious a month before the actual season opens and I begin by reading all of the magazines and books on turkey hunting that I have accumulated for the past year. Reading not only updates me on the current trends and problems, but also gets me pumped up and focused.

Step two began three weeks before the season when I happened to have a lot of extra time on my hands and the day was warm, quiet and sunny. I grabbed two of my turkey shotguns and a bunch of different shells and headed for a remote area of the woods, where I could check to see if the guns still shot where pointed and find out which type of shotshell was the most efficient for that particular gun.

Along with the guns and ammo I carried several paper targets with life-sized turkeys drawn on them; these would tell me all about my primary and backup shotgun by comparing the number of lead shot in the vital area at 40 yards. I want to ensure that the densest pattern is utilized in saturating the head and neck of a gobbler if and when it happens.

You see, I believe a hunter has the obligation to any and all critters hunted to guarantee that he/she dispatches that animal in the most efficient and fastest manner possible. That's why both of my turkey guns carry red dot sites on them and special barrels; I owe nothing less to the grand bird.

Once the shooting session was a success and finished, it was time to go to step three and get serious about my own ability to pursue Ol' Tom. I started off by buying a new pair of lightweight hiking shoes to carry me wherever the winds would blow me without wearing myself out. I broke them in on early dawn hikes with my dawgs, each hike consisting of one and a half to two miles over hilly ground with a steep climb included. This is ongoing all year round, but I increased the frequency of climbing the steep, 500-yard grade.

Even with that, I decided I needed more, so I unlimbered the ol' mountain bike in the last week of March and took it to the hills in the evenings, come wind or no wind.

Nothing I've experienced gets me in shape like doing the dirt on a single track of uneven and rocky ground. Throw in a steep hill or two and it gives me a burn to my thighs and a gulp to my wind. By gulp, I mean that I get anaerobic (without air) and my lungs struggle to suck nonexistent oxygen. For this I chose to do the same trails that I hike on and go farther and farther in an effort to build stamina.

Turkey hunting requires strong lungs and thighs if you want to go where no other hunter goes. That first evening found me pumping furiously uphill and quickly feeling the burn all too soon. My lungs were exploding as I dismounted after only biking a half-mile or so up-grade.

A walk of a hundred yards pushing the bike uphill found me ready to go again, but it didn't last very long. I'd had it. Next I descended on a long, shallow downgrade on a very narrow trail, the result of which was the return of my balance!

That evening I traveled but two miles; quivering, jelly-like thighs and 60-year-old lungs were too done in to go farther, but I felt good! Ya wanna get serious about getting' in shape? Go do the dirt on a mountain bike and throw in a hill or two!

The last pre-hunt phase came on April 1 when I started to scout seriously for the birds. I don't do so before then because the hens and toms have not migrated up from their wintering grounds and "localized" an area yet. The hens come first and establish nesting areas; then the flocks of toms follow and break up, the dominant toms getting the "girls."

Scouting days found me up and out between three and four in the morning and driving for at least an hour, then walking to the top of a ridge or mountain to await the coming dawn. From that vantage point I listened for gobblers to sound off and I noted where they were.

During the remaining time afield I spend the time hiking for miles in search of sign in the form of tracks, scratchings, dust beds and scat. I can usually tell how old a bird is by the size of its track and stool. That also allows me to figure out what pattern the birds follow each day.

Sometimes I will use my ATV to drive remote stretches of two-track trails and look for sign. After two weeks I will have located several flocks of birds in three to six distinct areas and will have found six to a dozen separate gobblers.

I never carry a turkey call while scouting like other hunters do. I don't want to get the birds educated to my calling nor do I want to scare them. A bird that comes to the call and finds no hen will be all the harder to call in during the season.

This scenario continued on every chance I had off work and in the big woods.

And, of course, I still walked the dawgs and rode the bike. Hopefully, as you read this, all my effort will have paid off and I will have at least one "Big Bird" hanging by the feet in the shed ready to be turned into a scrumptious, low-fat meal.

Keep the sun forever at your back, the wind forever in your face, and may the Forever God bless your efforts outdoors too.

Larry Lightner writes Ramblin' Outdoors monthly for Desert Exposure.

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