TURKEYS AT URICH

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Big Creek 

It's a wonder there's any game in these woods at all bein's it's overrun by the locals during gun season.  It's a little wicked wilderness so thick with brush you can't see past thirty yards..  

But big deer abound in river bottoms and its hillsides, often coming into the upper fields to feed at night. And flocks of turkey roost in the tall oaks and sycamore trees in the surrounding flood-prone bottoms that more resembles a swamp than a creek.  We were after those birds.

    A few years back in the fall, I guess my husband just wanted to show me around so he motioned me to stay close -- we didn't split up.  Alright by me, I didn't want to wander by myself till I knew the area better.  Those bottoms are too easy to get lost, gave me the creeps.  We hiked down the bare path winding into the creek basin, shotguns in hand, turkey hunting in the swamp during a dry spell.  Obviously Ed knew the way, he was surefooted, not slowing down as he used his shotgun as a swathe at the spiderwebs entwined with the path.  
    Nobody had disturbed the way for months. I was forced to hold onto a sapling for support a time or two as the path being a run-off ditch had moss-covered rocks and got steep. My husband was already in the dry creek bed far below. With careful steps I made my way to join him while I scanned the wide holler, noticing everything was brown and looked dead. The spiderwebs attached to low hung tree branches sparkled in the dappled sun. Only a few squirrels bounced about overhead. I caught a glimpse of a blue heron swiftly gliding over the tree tops in search of fish in the creek beyond our realm of sight. It flew silent.  The ravine was silent.

    It was as eerie as a haunted forest in a Halloween movie with all the twisted, fallen down trees that were scattered about from raging flood waters leaving debris.  By then they were in huge piles on the bare dirt. Previous storms' torrential currents had thrown those tree trunks around like pixie sticks. The holler was downright creepy. 
     I don't think my husband noticed. But if you've ever got turned around in swamps or hunting river bottoms, you know that feeling.  Every tree looks the same and it's all too easy to get lost. You don't often have cell signal either to use a GPS. It takes guts and keeping your wits about you to venture through such a quagmire of timber; tying a blaze orange tag to identify the route is essential there.. Getting lost it at night, you may wind up snuggled under a tree for shelter till the light of day enabled your sight again.
    It wasn't long walking in the rugged trenches that even my husband's inherent radar got turned back-asswards for a ways.  I prayed he regained his bearing.  We kept walking slowly with deliberation; he glanced about for sign of Big Creek.  The dense river forest canopy made it appear gloomier, darker compared to the hours before sunset in an open field. I was spooked and I let him know it. To this day he won't admit he was lost, if only for a moment. Only one other spot, next to the Missouri River we've hunted will screw up your senses as much - makes the hair on my neck prickle. The woods rule.
     No breeze. The ground was soft clay, dry silt, the sticks were decayed with moss. Everything was mushy so aside from the crinkled swish of a few fallen leaves as we walked, the gloomy woods were silent.  Our purpose to find the creek changed abruptly. 
  

Found 'em!

    You know how it goes, searching for those "lost" whatchamacallits....  We all holler out, "found 'em!" and everyone stops looking underneath the piles of other accumulated stuff.  Different for us turkey hunters.  We don't holler. Turkey hunters must have sharp hearing, able to decipher a tiny chirp beyond our range of sight.   That disintegrating timber-mass-of-brush-and-logs didn't look likely to hold a flock of turkeys.  But it made for good hiding. 
       We both heard it.  A distant "perp". Then a "cluck".  A single nod was all we showed we were in sync to head our boots in that direction.  Both experienced turkey hunters, we knew we'd found the birds. They were in a flock feeding up the hill. Soon it would be sunset and they'd fly to roost - we had to hurry. 
     Good hunting partners must be on the same page, develop a good rapport to need only match a signal what to do, where to go. Shoulder hoisting our guns, we had no time to dawdle, hustling our pace towards them birds, slip-sliding and crunching sticks on the way up.
     Escaping the ravine, an ascent towards where we'd heard them flocking to roost up, it looked to me that we'd made a circle by the way the afternoon sun shone through the forest.  But with turkeys found I didn't care - - that moment my focus was like a cat on a mouse.  I zeroed in!  
     A thirty foot river bank overlooking the creek bottoms, that uphill climb was rugged and treacherous.  Struggling up the scraggly hill, using my shotgun as a staff, I heaved a sigh of relief to be out of the tangled bottoms as we finally neared the crest of the ravine. We knew the birds we searched for were close by as we came over the rise of the hill, stalking silently, intent to shoot in an instant if we busted a flock. But those birds are wily.  Those fat torpedos were already half in flight, half-scurrying through the brush.  Damnit - - we both swore.   We had not so cautiously bumbled with guns in hand onto the plateau.  Neither of us took time to criticize our fervor.  He ran towards three huge birds in one direction and I scrambled over logs and bushes in chase of others. Spooked turkeys scattered in all directions.
      Scattering is to confuse a predator. Oh, you learn very quickly it's real obvious those darn boots don't keep up with a turkey fleeing for its life!  At that moment it was comical.  I stopped in my tracks laughing at the sight of us chasing fat running birds through the woods.  I never had the chance to bring the 870 up to my face.  We couldn't keep up and adjourned the hunt.

    So we didn't kill a turkey that day but it was a learning experience, to say the least.  Just goes to show that turkeys are a real challenge.