SPACE-AGE GOBBLERS
The First Time I Used Space-Age Technology
to Hunt Turkeys
EDITOR'S
NOTE: In preparing for turkey season, you can't know
where you'll hunt. The tom himself will dictate the
place you'll hunt, the type of terrain you'll have to
cross, and how wet you'll get before you return to your
truck. During the spring while turkey hunting, I'll
usually get lost and need some type of navigational
device. The hand-held GPS (global positioning system)
will aid your scouting and your hunting turkeys this
season.
A
couple years ago as I sloshed through the inky-black
water of the swamp late in the afternoon, I laid an
invisible trail marked only by satellites in outer space
and my GPS hand-held receiver. I planned to follow that
trail the next morning before daylight to reach my stand
site to hunt Albert. Every morning this gobbler, Albert,
pitched off the limb where he roosted over flooded timber
and flew to a small island about 80 yards out in the
water. I had no way to approach the island during daylight
hours without the gobbler's seeing me. I sometimes watched
him strutting on the island that was too far away for
me to shoot. On this afternoon, I'd waded through the
swamp in knee-deep water for 1/2-mile and picked a stand
site where I could set up without spooking Albert. I
used my Magellan hand-held GPS receiver to get a fix
on my position. I hit the button to mark this location
as a waypoint. Then I punched the
MARK A ROUTE button and pulled up the waypoint I'd entered
earlier where I'd left my vehicle. While I walked from
the island through the water back to my vehicle, my
GPS charted the course I took. When I arrived at my
car, I pushed the SAVE ROUTE button and stored my route
in the memory of the receiver.
The following morning with no moon to light my path,
I set out with my GPS receiver to find my turkey-hunting
blind through the dark water. Arriving at my destination
in less than 45 minutes, I waited for the coming of
daylight and Albert. He gobbled before first light.
Because I knew this smart bird had whipped several other
members of my hunting club, I didn't want to over-call.
I cupped my hand and threw my call away from the island
to some trees in the flooded timber and gave a soft
tree call. Albert screamed
back. Next I gave a fly-down cackle and beat my pants
leg with my gloved hand to sound like a turkey flying
down and landing on the island. Albert double gobbled.
After giving some soft clucks and yelps, I waited before
scratching in the leaves to sound like a feeding hen.
I didn't call any more. After 10 minutes of listening
to Albert gobble with almost every breath, I heard the
beating of wings. In less than three heartbeats, Albert
landed about 20 yards from my stand. I released a load
of No. 5s, collected my prize and reached in my pocket
for my GPS receiver. This space-age device that had
led me straight to the tom I'd hunted for two years
now would direct me back to my vehicle.
TOMORROW: BE LOST NO MORE
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