Woman Midwest-style

      It’s turkey season! Sorry I’m running a bit behind, been scouting, fishing twice — this season is later than usual. Good thing too, we had three nights it froze. I can't think of a better, more relaxing way to spend a spring morning to escape the Coronavirus yahoo. The trees have new, bright green. Pastel flowers have burst out, springing from the dead. Bushes looks like light watercolor throughout the woods. A light scent is in the air with spring rains that bring new life to the countryside. Winter browns are changing magically to chartreuse and yellow on Forsythia and fuschia Redbud trees. Song birds have all returned, busily gathering tiny twigs and scraps to build new nests. The restlessness that ached in me for a tortuous national shut-down throughout winter can finally be appeased. The fields and timber without snow. No longer cooped indoors, feeling excitement with images of gobblers in that field that you call your honey-hole.  Started planning hunting sce

Spring turkey hunting is that awesome fan display, the excitement of toms gobbling and fighting, then tagging those gobblers. Zach and Ed's toms                                             For those of you who pack everything but the kitchen sink, you may add  rocks and a sense of humor  to your arsenal.  A turkey hunter for many years, I have a few  successes  and  failures . And as much as we may grumble, it's very true what my husband says about the  failures , "that's why it's called hunting". He also laughed, asking me if I offered advice that you throw rocks at uncooperative birds as a last ditch effort to kill one! That's his sense of humor.. When you're turkey hunting, you best leave your ego at home. Because after a week of not bagging a bird, saying 'we hunted hard' really makes  no  sense. I have to ask what the hell is 'hunting hard' or how is it suppose to be easy? It's not  hard  hunting for tu

For now I'll share the fun  video Adrian took while we sat under the thorny tree, killing time waiting for a gobbler to come into view. This was before we saw the tiptops of two hens' heads pop up just a teeny bit above the edge into our view across the field. (That was enough to make two giggling women shut up!)

       A boat ride in pitch dark across the coves, a rocky hillside climb was the start of our deer season open...      Cold water chopped at the hull as we raced through the main channel. Ed's DIY boat headlights shone along past the cold waves, revealing jagged stubs of trees. In the summertime they are connected by jugs strung on trot-lines, bobbing with an occasional Channel-cat on, suspended in the deep water.      We skirted past those wooden stalagmites left standing when the channel was flooded, forming the lake. My quilted vest collar wrapped snug against my neck, I braced against the chilly November wind that hugged the shoreline. Fun memories of summer fishing quickly subsided in hopes of a shot at a good deer beyond the boulders, and tree limbs strewn en masse that made my climb difficult with a backpack and rife strapped to my back. I felt more like a pack-mule. And just as stubborn.      My husband guided me, shone the mega flashlight along the rubble t

        Early afternoon turkey hunting. Words can't show the beauty of Missouri woods. I saw two deer feeding in soybean fields. No birds, it's late in season but I WALKED nice n slow, happy after a broken ankle. A bit of drizzle didn't ruin my day- it smelled fresh. Wet alfalfa smells sweet. Usual crop fields are fallow this year.   I found a licking branch above a scrape and fresh tracks walking along the tractor path mowed months before.  U sually prime turkey hunting i f the weeds hadn't been so tall..        No other hunters bumped into my path, no dogs ran through to startle a flock of birds  my way . I watched an eagle fly, squirrels running up and down trees and a hawk caught one.  The squirrel didn't let out a sound as the hawk swooped in and snatched it off the tree.       My foot got sore, I rested, drank cold coffee. Texted my husband I was headed home after one last hunt. Be safe he replied (from his tree stand).              We

It doesn't matter whether it's spring or fall, Merriam or Eastern or Rio Grande or Osceola, turkeys are tough to hunt.  Their eyes are so keen.   If you can see them without binoculars, they can easily pick you out of the edge of the timber unless you act like a tree.  Stand so still until you feel like you've grown leaves.  Unless your clothes have been treated with non-­UVA detergent, a turkey's vision can still pick you out of the timber...  Yes, from that distance, their wary eyes are as good as your 'binocs' and closely match a raptor's vision in relation to picking up movement several hundred yards away, as across a 100 acre corn field or from their roost above that same field.  Turkeys also are not color blind, hence the reference for the necessity to wash your huntin’ duds in special hunting laundry soap that is formulated to minimize the intense colors of fabrics and human odor.     "The retinas of turkeys have seven dif