This week I received notice that I was chosen in the 2008 Minnesota Spring Wild Turkey Hunt lottery.  I applied solo this year as I chose to return to the site of most of my previous turkey hunts in Minnesota, the Whitewater Wildlife Management Area.  The beauty of bluff country is difficult to match and, with the abundance of acreage offered by this large WMA, there are countless opportunities, techniques, and scenarios to call in that boss tom.  Plus, the central location of Whitewater State Park in this hunting zone provides comfortable camping accommodations.  Another reason I love this hunt is that when I case up the shotgun for the day, it’s time to pull out the fly rod and try to raise a brown, brook, or rainbow trout to throw over the fire for dinner.

However, that will not be the case this year.  The area and the park are still in the process of recovering from the rainstorms of August 18 and 19, 2007 and the ensuing flash floods that decimated the valleys.  With the park not reopening until likely Memorial Day weekend, I will probably be forced to find lodging in Elba, Altura, one of the surrounding communities, or travel from Winona or Rochester daily.  It should be interesting to see the effect the rains and floods had on the turkey population and fisheries of the trout streams as well as take in how the communities and park is recovering from these devastating events.

I was not drawn in last year’s lottery and this year I was given my second choice of season.  My second choice was the week-long, seventh season.  Although I know the Whitewater valley pretty well, I will be encountering some conditioned birds in this later hunt , combined with the factors of the flood and having not hunted there in a few years, and it should prove to be quite a challenging hunt.

My most recent turkey hunt, two years ago, Craig and I were both fortunate to take nice jakes off of Butch’s place a little farther southeast near Spring Grove, MN.

 

December, 2007

The 2007 Minnesota deer season was a tough hunt.  The pre-rut offered few opportunities with the bow because a large pack of wolves had set up shop in our neck of the woods.  You can see the sign posted by the government trapper below.  I began to question my confidence in my favorite location when there was little sign to be found, hardly any pictures on the scouting cameras, and days spent in the stand of what seemed to be an empty woods.  Empty of deer anyway, the does that remained had relocated their fawns to safer locations and the bucks were sure to follow the does.  There were always the howls of the pack each night as I made my hike out of the woods to remind me of who were the real hunters here.  The neighbors in the area had questions about the quality of the upcoming rifle season and alluded to “knowing what to do” should I encounter one of the pack.  I don’t agree with those tactics however, maybe because I don’t live or make my livelihood there, but I feel that I could have easily moved my hunt to a different location.  The wolves, as well as the ranchers, are just trying to make a living.

I drew my bow once all fall and missed my mark on a respectable eight.  A difficult angle contributed to the broadhead meeting the shoulder blade and the buck tossed it (nearly bloodless) about 100 yards down the trail of his escape.  Tyler and I were only able to find two small specks of blood beyond that point and none prior to it, and nothing the next day.  So we made the conclusion that he would continue to roam the forests.  With more activity in the woods come rifle season and the rut nearing its peak we were sure to see more deer movement.

The first day of rifle season, Tyler harvested a real nice spike buck, only his second deer ever, that he bumped from its daybed on the way in for the afternoon hunt.  Father and son got together for a picture, and I resorted to a self portrait in the stand (I was bored obviously)…

The second morning, I watched this family unit from over 200 yards away across the swamp (You can see the approximate location over my shoulder in the self portrait.) as they worked their way to the beaver dam crossing just below my stand, where, within 30 yards, all four shells from my trusty .308 found their mark.  A year’s preparation, months of scouting, weeks spent in the stand, for 10 minutes of excitement and then 3 days work!  Brent and Tyler wanted to fill their freezer, so at Liberty Pines Ranch Outfitters we aim to please (The pun was definitely intended).  We had met our harvest needs, now there was work to be done.  Four days later we left for Montana.  I returned to trophy hunt a few more times after the Montana trip, but a wall-hanger was not in the cards this year.

   

 

November 15, 2007

Last year, it was two beautiful muley bucks (the 339-Yard 5×4 and the Straight Down 5×5) in a record time of 36 hours in the deepest, most challenging, and most beautiful area of the the eastern Montana Badlands we had ever hunted that made for the best hunt ever.  The final tally this year was Hunters 0, Mule Deer 2.  But, then again, this year we fought a different battle.  By cell phone somewhere between Bismarck and Dickinson, we discovered a ranch employee had messed up our reservation and we were forced to spend the first three days of our hunt in Area 2.  Still a vast and challenging expanse, Area 2 simply holds fewer trophy bucks because Areas 3 and 4 offer territory that only the bold shall travel.  However the mix up did give us the chance to get more acquainted with Jim and Nancy, the ranchers who had come to our aid by chance the year before.  Friends.

The first morning, a miscommunication between hunters and thoughts of this was only the beginning, led us to pass on an opportunity at a 5×5 as he made his escape with two does.  It was only the first morning.  Who knew it would be the best chance we had.  The second day challenged our spirits; high temperatures drove the deer into the deepest canyons beyond Area 2.  When we implemented our wolf pack method through the deepest coulees in Area 2 only to come up empty, not even a doe, frustration set in.  Then a mistake, and the loss of an old friend (my trusty .308, Chadd’s .308), made me wonder what kind of karma I had bargained for this time.  Day three brought in a new wind, and the two-person wolf pack put on as many miles as the previous two days combined.  Twenty-three deer total – one buck, who offered a fleeting chance as he slipped over the ridge just before nightfall, he was another marginal buck who used cunning to slip across the wire.  We let him go to let him grow.

Day four, Area 3, finally, but by now the winds of November had turned brisk and gusting.  Still, we totaled nine mules (four bucks) by 8am including the same 5×5 and two does from the first morning.  From a butte overlooking the massive southern coulees of Area 3, Val took a crack at one of two bucks as they danced with a coyote in the sunrise, but a shot we estimated at a good 300 yards was actually 465 yards after the fact.  The bucks waited for the doe they had been competing for as she lay in the shadows before they loped over the knob and into the next crevice.  By afternoon we had come to terms with the fact that this year, while the most challenging hunt we had ever undertaken, was not meant to be “successful”.  That evening, we again watched as the three mules, which were now becoming old friends, the 5×5 and two does, grazed two coulees away.  It was much too far for a shot, and at that point, I’m not sure we wanted to take a shot.  We watched and they watched until the 5×5 decided he had stayed long enough and then led his does over the ridge and into the sunset.  I sat quiet as we drove off of Belle Prairie that night.  I was exhausted, I was sore, I needed a horse, and I was disappointed it had to come to an end.  The wind broke loose overnight and the November gusts blew us home the next day in record time.  We watched as a North Dakota Suburban played leap frog with us after pitstops along the road east.  Strapped to the roof was a nice mule deer doe.  My trailer ran empty, but I couldn’t help but determine that this had been the best hunt ever.  This trip will be remembered for other things along the way as well.  The best waiter in town, Dan at the Gust Hauf, pizza and Fat Tire, is our table ready?  Wyatt wondering each night, “Did you catch one?”  Jake just happy to be on the road again, sunrise at his back.