Ohio Valley Outdoors Magazine Fall 2001

Hooking a Fisherman on Turkey Hunting

by Dave Freeman

It all began several years ago when a friend of mine from Pittman Game Calls invited me to join him in the beautiful state of Tennessee to hunt for spring gobblers. I looked forward to the trip, the hunt, and spending time with my friend in the turkey woods of southern Tennessee.

During the many conversations concerning the trip it was mentioned that, in addition to some great turkey hunting, fishing for trout and smallmouth bass was also excellent in the area at this time of year.

Knowing my son-in-law, Lee Duffield, loves fishing, I talked with my friend about bringing him along. Lee's originally from East Liverpool, Ohio, and now lives in Louisville, Kentucky, with my daughter, Lori, and my granddaughter, Shannon. The trip would allow me to hunt, fish and visit the family.

Lee would rather fish than eat and just had to come along. Lee had told me many times that he had no interest in hunting. In fact, he had not hunted since he was a youngster, and then only for small game. The thought of fishing in another state, however, got Lee excited. He quickly made arrangements to be away from work and made countless trips to the local fishing store for just the right lure. The trip was set.

For several years, Lee and I have put up with each other's obsessions. Lee shows me the latest rods, reels, lures, and many magazine articles on how to catch the biggest fish. Then, he has endured my telling him stories of turkey hunts, and practicing the latest mouth calls going "yelp, yelp, yelp."

We both listen to stories of each other's heroes. His are Babe Winkleman and AL Linder. Mine include Preston Pittman, Brad Harris and Eddy Salter.

Don't get me wrong, I love to fish, and over the years the fishing trips I've taken with Lee have been the best of my life. Whether it's been to the local creek or places like Lake Erie for walleye, Lee and I have shared some great times.

But this trip to the South was to be the best of both worlds--hunting turkeys in a state I hadn't hunted, spending time with a new friend, and going on another trip with my favorite son-in-law (I have only one daughter), and getting in some fishing too. Notice the order of priorities?

So with spring in the air, the birds singing everywhere, and turkeys gobbling both in Ohio and Tennessee, we began our journey.

Lee had his truck loaded with fishing gear, and I had mine loaded with guns, camo, decoys and calls as we headed for the land of Davy Crockett in search of turkeys, fish and friendship.

Upon arriving at my friend's home just outside of Lynchburg, Tenn., we found one of the prettiest places I have ever hunted, and the most hospitable people I've met. His entire family made us feel like we were family.

Anxious to get started that afternoon, we hunted one of the ridges in the area and Lee headed for a nearby stream. Then the rains came. No birds, no fish. The next morning found our friend, the son of a landowner where we were hunting (an avid turkey hunter himself) and myself parked at a pull-off point atop one of the ridges.

While we waited for daylight, another hunter drove up to where we parked and discussed the hunting in that area so far that season. As dawn came, one hour later than we had anticipated (a time change that weekend), I was guided across a ridge to a place above where we believed the turkeys were roosted. Then my friend went to another ridge to hunt. Birds started to gobble. Not only were they below the ridge where I was sitting, but also below several other ridges in the area.

A fog was hanging in the lower elevations of the mountains while I called to birds in all directions. It was an experience of a lifetime. But when the birds flew down, they were quickly joined by hens, and despite my calling efforts, moved away from the ridge where I was.

In the meantime, Lee was having his own problems trying to find a fish in the now muddy waters of the area's streams. This fishaholic had only minor success that morning, but he thought that if it had not been for the rain the night before the fishing would have been great.

Afternoon found me working some beautiful hardwoods, fields, and farmland with no success, except for seeing a couple of hens. When Lee picked me up we decided to go where I had hunted the first morning in hopes of roosting a bird. Even though it wasn't fishing, Lee agreed to go.

When we got to the ridge I used an owl hooter, and from about 200 yards away a bird gobbled back. Using fishing terminology, the look on Lee's face was like having a fish see the bait.

Because of the rains, the fishing in the area's small creeks was not good, and I'm sure that's why Lee accepted my offer to go with me the next morning. I wanted to get the bird on the roost to come uphill to me even though he had refused to do this the day before.

The game plan was simple. It was my opinion that on the day before the gobbler had heard us park the car above him on the edge. He had also heard us talk to the other hunter, heard us owl hoot, and maybe had even seen us on the ridgeline as we walked into the woods. I believe that this was not the first time the birds that roost here had been educated in such a manner. The plan was to change the approach and give him a different look.

Our friend would drop Lee and me off along the road several hundred yards away from the usual parking spot where we had entered the woods the day before. We would go into the area from another trail and set up at the edge of a field on the other side of the birds.

In the morning I was excited about putting my plan into action and the possibility of allowing Lee to at least hear a bird. For the most part our plan of attack went well. We had to climb a hill that was larger than expected, and cross a fence to get to the field. I'm sure most of you can relate.

Upon clearing obstacles, we put our Feather Flex decoy in place, and got our calls ready. Lee and I settled down next to each other in the picturesque Tennessee Mountains.

As morning broke we knew this was the type of morning the legendary Davy Crockett must have seen from these mountains many years before. This was living.

A light tree yelp and an answer from just below the ridge were just the right bait to get my fisherman son-in-law's attention. We heard turkeys fly down from a roost, and a few more soft yelps. The birds - not bird - were coming. We were ready. At least as ready as you can ever be for a turkey.

We would later learn from our friend who was watching from another ridge that the birds (four long-beards) were heading toward us along a cow path just below the field. All of a sudden he saw all the birds get into a big fight, each one trying to get to the top of the hill first in response to our call. Meanwhile, Lee and I heard the commotion, but we saw nothing. Then in an instant, as it happens in turkey hunting, four of the most majestic of God's creatures, bronze feathers shining on the morning sun, topped the ridge. The look on Lee's face was comparable to a bass sneaking up on a surface lure.

A second later I harvested a 20 pound 10-inch bearded bird with inch-and-a-half spurs. I'm convinced that in that moment my great fishing partner was hooked on becoming my great turkey-hunting partner.

The look on Lee's face as we raced toward the bird was kind of like watching a bass that had just hit the bait. The excitement in his voice can only be described as the sound you get if you push your tongue up too hard on a mouth call. The only thing needed to reel Lee into the world of turkey hunting was a delicious wild turkey meal. No problem.

In the time since that April morning Lee has joined the National Wild Turkey Federation (what a great way to get started) and attended several NWTF conventions.

He has read tons of turkey hunting stories, persuaded my daughter to purchase a Remington 870 turkey gun for Christmas (for home protection?), and spent hours of practice on box, mouth, glass, and locator calls.

Lee harvested his first bird two years ago and, as a payback for getting him hooked, guided me this past season as I hunted Kentucky for the first time. The result of Lee's scouting and locating tactics was the opportunity for me to harvest two Kentucky long beards.

While hunting with Lee this year I mentioned that in the afternoon we might get in a little fishing and was quickly informed "Not during Turkey season".

And that is what happens because, unlike any other hunting or fishing activity, when you turkey hunt YOU GET HOOKED!