It was quite a weekend spent out along the Missouri River in SD chasing turkeys with stick and string!
The trip took an interesting note right from the get go. It turned out the 9-5 was beckoning for a friday filming trip up on Lake Winnie. I was originally planning on making the trip Thursday night, and hunt what would turn out to be a beautiful Friday, a windy Saturday, and a terrible Sunday.
The property I hunt consists of 5,000 of the most picturesque scenery I could imagine out of central SD. Last year the birds were running rampant along the property, filling my archery tag in less than an hour.
This year I had high hopes of doing the same, with my dad and Joel Nelson in tow.
The drive from Winnie to Central SD was an extremely taxing 9.5 hour drive, as we pulled into the lodge around 1am. In a few short hours, I could finally stretch out the diaphragm on the first turkeys of 2014.
The alarm clock screeched at 5am, about 5 hours too early in my opinion. We made the short drive to our destination in the dark and marched our way to the top of the river breaks listening for birds signaling their future demise. We walked near the same area I had perched last year to watch the sun grow brighter and the gobbles to begin.
I was growing a little uneasy as I heard nothing more than meadow Larks wake from the night. The wind was whipping up, and despite a forecasted wind of 9mph, the Missouri River breaks sucked every ounce of wind from the area and funneled it directly over our backs. It would seem a bird would have to be directly on top of us to hear it’s thunderous report.
From a distance, I heard one bird erupt soon followed by 3 or 4 more birds. We threw on our gear and hoofed up and down the treacherous terrain for what turned out to be miles. I was shocked that the gobbles carried in a 20mph crosswind.
My Dad and I neared as the gobbles grew increasingly more audible until we arrived on their doorstep. Quickly the birds seemed to grow near as we frantically set up the blind in a growing wind.
Just as we settled in position, on a large open flat adjacent to the ravine the birds occupied, we saw the flock fighting on the far side.
They descended away from us down the ravine…I was nervous as this was a part of the property I had very little experience with and had no clue what the birds would do.
I decided to get out on foot with the binos and check out what the birds were doing from a far. I scaled the foothills with the speed of a mountain goat, or at least I would like to think that. After seeing nothing but a sea of thick trees I returned to the blind crawling up from behind. As soon as I got in, I saw my dad with a nocked arrow looking at me like I was insane!
He gestured to our left as there was a beautiful Merriam less than 40 yards away! I was simply shocked he hadn’t seen me bumble my way under the blind.
Strutting away, I knew all it would take was a few coaxing yelps, purrs and putts to draw him to my full strut decoy. Sure enough he closed the gap in seconds. I could tell my Dad was reaalllly nervous, as this was his first turkey hunt with a bow, and the first out of a ground blind. We were set up on a little slope with the right side of the blind angled up and of course the bird was on the right side. He strutted around the decoy and finally abused him until the decoy left it’s stake. Feeling satisfied, he strutted around the scene of the crime.
My Dad leveled off on the bird and thwap! I looked down as there was a perfect little broadhead hole on the bottom of my window. The bird didn’t run off but slowly sauntered away, almost antagonizing us.
I knew the feeling all too well as my dad just stared down. It’s simply one of the worst feelings. A missed opportunity. 
No sooner than the first tom left, a group of 3 appeared across the far hill. I got on the mouth call hard and they came half running half strutting closing the 300 yard distance. The three bachelors must have heard it before I did as they turned on their spurs started strutting and running the other way! I was upstaged by a little sweetheart.
I then heard what they did, a beautiful sounding kee kee. The gobblers out there had a certain love affair with a kee kee mixed on the front half with a yelp. It flowed together beautifully. I imitated the sound louder and more frequently, and watched the three whip a 180 and race back my direction.
They didn’t like something as the birds stopped at 25 yards and my dad let another shot fly on the nervous bird, whack! Feathers flew and it looked like a hit! Only to realize, the bird just ran away with a little haircut. A shot just a touch high. At this point I felt just as bad as he did.
The morning ended with us spotting and stalking around the ravines, putting in too much work with not enough results. The birds were seemingly uninterested.
The afternoon began as we headed back to the opening where we had seen the birds earlier, setting up in the corner.
The birds crossed the fence and headed into the corn behind our blind. Not once did the jakes and toms make a peep. As the sun was fading, the birds crossed the fence merely 20 yards in front of our blind. I frantically searched for my rangefinder as I realized it was sitting in my bow case back at the truck. I guessed for 25 and sailed an arrow!
After a day of fruitless arrow throwing we headed right to the town watering hole where Joel was having a grand old time playing pool with the resident ehhhh professional drinkers….
We spoke of our day, and he seemed quite happy as we had roosted birds for the morning hunt. The weather was not in our favor as I looked outside as the clock read 5am. 30+ MPH winds bucked, driving a heavy rain sleet mixture.
We proceeded to give it the old college try, becoming drenched to the bone by the sideways wind. I knew exactly where the birds were roosting and we snuck in right on their front porch. Light began to appear as we made frantic last second adjustments to our spread.
There the birds sat. A smattering of hens and a tom. Not exactly the most ideal situation. As we let out a few rips on the box call, we heard two more birds report from further in the gully. We sat and sat and sat, the birds didn’t seem to want to leave the roost. I couldn’t blame them, it was straight nasty!
Finally the hens pitched down while the longbeard hung up in the tree for 10 minutes longer. He eventually came down reluctantly after re-roosting. We both pondered if the birds hadn’t seen us set up. After a few brief run-ins with a fast moving Jake, and a tom skirting behind us the driving cold sent us packing up. As we moved along the fence row, we spotted two toms and jake moving their way towards or position. Joel fumbled trying to get his blind and jacket off while putting his release back on. All while I watched the birds move less than 10 feet in front of us. Eventually we got set as they crossed the fence just within bow range in front of us. Joel drew and sent an arrow flying. No dice.
It seemed to be a fitting ending to the weekend plagued by poor shooting! It’s not over yet as both Joel and I will be trying to head back out to tackle the Merriams of SD!
I’m sure Joel will chime in also and give a little more insight when he gets back from his trip down to NE….I’m beat!
