Hunting Archery Duck Deer

It’s the chase of an animal that loudly gobbles and drums when amorously pursuing what it thinks is a female, but quickly and silently blends into the wooded hills when spooked.

It’s a sport that demands stealth and patience on the part of a hunter. But it’s difficult to achieve that when you’re breathing hard as a bird approaches, all the while trying to ease an aching rear end that has grown sore from sitting still for so long.

And yet, despite each paradox and the fact that I came home with an empty cooler, I’m hooked on turkey hunting.

I had the chance to chase Merriam’s turkeys with Al Prante, of Gig Harbor, and his stepson, Bonney Lake resident Nick Taylor, for three days in late April. For Nick and me, it was our first opportunity to hunt the largest upland bird in Washington. Neither one of us was disappointed with the experience.

Our hunt got off to a great start, with a tom turkey gobbling in response to Al’s first calls moments after we set up in a wooded glen on a hillside north of Colville.

For the next 20 minutes, the turkey slowly came down the hill, looking for the female it thought was yelping from our location. A decoy placed ahead of us was designed to keep the tom’s attention away from us as we leaned against a couple of trees.

Wind-blown leaves on the hillside had my eyes darting back and forth, looking for any sign of the turkey. I slowly tuned out the woodpecker hammering away at a nearby tree, as well as the songbirds chirping away over our heads.

We sat as still as possible, covered in camouflage clothing, masks hiding our faces, our eyes wide in excitement.

But the tom would come no closer than 50 yards and then gave up trying to find the hen.

Over the next two and a half days, we would hear and see turkeys, but none came close enough to shoot.

Still, it was an amazing experience.

Turkeys can be found throughout the state, but the Colville area is the place to be. The valleys were dotted with toms, hens and jakes (immature males), and the forested hills and mountains above town echoed with gobbles, yelps, cuts and chirps.

In some ways, turkey hunting is a lot like fishing. There are long stretches of nothing, followed by moments of excitement.

Like fishing, when you use flies or lures to imitate a fish’s next meal, turkey hunters use calls to lure a tom within range, using his spring sexual urges against him. To me that was the most intimidating aspect of turkey hunting. I’ve heard expert callers and figured there was no way I could do that.

I’ve learned that you don’t have to.

I had toms gobbling back at my beginner call as I scratched a slate call and gently pulled the handle across a box call.

Prante said there are plenty of videotapes and audiotapes on the market to help beginners refine their calling.

On a sun-filled afternoon, Prante and I sat against two pine trees atop a hill where he had seen some toms the day before. Between calls, we talked about the sport he has grown to love in just six seasons. This is a guy with a small stuffed turkey dangling from the rearview mirror of his pickup truck and a turkey windsock hanging from his trailer. He is an active member of the National Wild Turkey Federation.

“This, to me, is far more fun than deer and elk hunting. I’m on the mountain, seeing deer, elk and other critters. Things are coming out from the winter blanket,” Prante said. “This is just so much fun.”

He is right. And I’ll be back to try again. Soon.