Turkey hunting is relatively new in Maine and we only have turkeys in the southern half of the state at this time. Our population came from relocated birds from Connecticut and has grown to very healthy numbers. My sporting camps are located in central Maine in the heart of dairy country where it’s not uncommon to see flocks of 50, 60, up to 80 birds at a time. Of course we see this number of birds together in the off season and hunting season means smaller groups.

I come from a long family tradition of outdoorsman.  My Grandfather was a registered Maine Guide which had a lot to do with me getting my guide’s license. Summers were spent at camp fishing, boating, waterskiing, picking berries, bonfires at night and everything outside. Fall was that magical time when we started with partridge, (or as you may know it grouse) hunting and then the whitetail season where filling the freezer was the goal. We were not fortunate enough at that time to receive a moose permit which is drawn by lottery so moose hunts were limited to helping others. Winter meant rabbit hunting even though the only beagle we had was when I was little. She let me put her puppies in my baby carriage and stroll them around while she lay by the fire. Ice fishing, snowmobiling and ice skating rounded out the season.

When my Dad expressed an interest in turkey hunting I invited him down, proud to have the opportunity to introduce him to a hunting experience. I had a spot where a large number of birds were roosting, then coming out to feed in the cornfield. I had set up a ground blind under a willow tree on the edge of the field and felt confident we would be in a great spot. The 3:30am wakeup call meant we would be out in the field before daylight.  Even then the birds were already gobbling when we got there. I decided to set up on the stone wall overlooking a tote road in between gobblers. The gobbler on the right held tight, still on the roost. Dad had never heard gobbling in person and he was amazed at the birds. The sound fills the woods and the communication between the birds is obvious. The gobbler on the left was on the move and went back and forth between us and gobblers on the other side of him. He finally chose the others and we decided to move to the ground blind and wait it out. I had a great new jake decoy that I wanted to try and set him up with two hens. In hindsite I think this was a mistake.

We had been in the ground blind for about half an hour, chatting about the weather, my daughter and the habits of these birds. Scanning the cornfield with binoculars Dad noticed a hen coming out of the tree line. She was easily 150 yards away, feeding her way across the edge of the field. Shortly two jakes and a tom were following her trail. The tom was in full strut and a very nice bird, beard easily 9 inches. The four birds slowly made their way thru the field. There was no more gobbling but plenty of action from these birds. Yelps caught  the attention of only the jakes, stretching their necks to check out the action of the “other birds” in the lower part of the field. Apparently they decided to stay with the hen they were with although I doubt they had a chance with the tom so interested in her. We watched these birds for almost 45 minutes with them never getting closer than 100 yards. It was still a successful hunt because I had gotten my hunter into bird action he had never heard or seen before. He wasn’t thrilled with the 3:30am wakeup call and even if he never gives turkey hunting a try, I know it was a day he won’t forget.