Like several others – my annual pilgrimage overseas to kill something has been mothballed this year. Thus when my brother Galen called to see if I would be interested in going to Florida with him to hunt the Osceola turkey I readily agreed. It was the last turkey he needed for his “grand slam”.

I have lucked into more than my share of Eastern turkeys over the last thirty-eight years of hunting them but had never given much consideration to pursuing the grand slam. However the idea of a challenge that was affordable made sense this year. After all, I reasoned, the only thing needed was a pickup and a shotgun. Those were already in place. My pickup is ten years old and the shotgun was three times that but they both still worked fine so I decided that if I struck an Osceola it would be “game on”. My cost calculations conveniently ignored the fact that I would also need money for gas, lodging, out of state license fees, food, taxidermy etc.



The Osceola trip was in March and the weather was perfect. I needed some bright green camouflage and all mine were brownish so I took an old pair of camouflage coveralls and a can of green spray paint and five minutes later I had green camouflage. They were sort of stiff but I reasoned they would loosen up as I wore them. They didn’t.

Galen and I walked into the Everglades about a quarter mile from the truck and waited for daylight. Two gobbled off to our left – then another one off to the right – then three out in front! We had walked right in to a major roost! We both sat at the same tree. Shortly after we heard them fly down a gobbler chased a jake away from a hen past Galen’s side of the tree. He let them pass but when the gobbler came back to the hen Galen poked him. We let him lie and let the woods settle down.



About twenty minutes later two came in from the front. They stayed so close together that I had to let them strut around for several long minutes before I got a clean shot at one. We were done! It had taken less than an hour. Oddly, the Osceola is said to be a hard one to get. When turkey hunting, if your luck is right it is very right and when its bad it is very bad. To me, there seems to be no “in-between”.



Notice how good Galen spreads the tail. I don’t hold a candle to him when it comes to tail spreading.

A few weeks after arriving home our local turkey season opened. Even though I had killed Eastern turkeys for 38 years I needed a fresh one if I were to accomplish my goal of doing the grand slam all in one spring season. On opening morning I drove out to a patch of woods on Table Rock Lake. I walked in about an eighth of a mile and stood waiting for the hoot owls. Again, the weather was perfect. An owl opened up on cue with the sunrise and was immediately cut off by a gobble from right where I left my jeep. I must have parked under him!

I made one tree call and was answered immediately by a gobble directly behind me. Then the jeep turkey answered him from in front of me. What are the odds of this? I was in the catbird seat right between two gobblers who were gobbling at each other while on a dead run right to me. All I had to do was shoot the first one to show up. The jeep turkey won the race and lost his life. When luck is good it’s very good – my luck in this case – not the turkeys luck. I had spent less than twenty minutes in the woods and had a heavy Eastern on his back. He sported a nice twelve and three quarters inch beard with three hairs extending past thirteen inches. So that was the second step and the game was still on.



I was talking to my brother in law who lives in Nebraska about going up there to hunt Merriam turkeys and he said come on up – he has gobs of them right in his back yard. Indeed when I drove up to the house there were a couple dozen blissfully pecking bugs along the driveway. There were two problems however. The first one was my camouflage did not match the neighborhood – I needed a jogging suit for that. The second problem was that they were Eastern not Merriam turkeys. My brother in law obviously was not a turkey hunter. I should have had him send me a picture before I drove all the way up to Nebraska. A picture would not have been hard to take because the turkeys were being practically hand fed with yuppie food scraps. Even the neighborhood dogs were on a friendly basis with these turkeys.

I used my computer to find another place further West and further North up near Atkinson, Nebraska. The outfitter provided semi-guided hunting. They drop you off in an area they have scouted. You are then on your own to hunt them down and kill them. This was something new for me but I liked it. One does not use a lot of days trying to figure out where they roost etc. Myself and another hunter from North Carolina were dropped off about a thousand yards apart along a ridge that abutted an open field.

A few days earlier I had installed Tru-Glo sights on my shotgun. Prior to going out I shot it and discovered it shot high. Lacking time to change them again I resolved to just hold six inches low. I sat in the tree line and waited for daylight. One gobble was heard way off to my right and that was all. Not knowing the lay of the land I decided to stay where I was and see if they opened up later. They did not. Then about 10 a.m. a silent gobbler came striding purposely along at what I estimated was about 40 yards out in the plowed field. I don’t like to shoot that far but on the other hand this hunt was not starting out too well and I was not feeling strong about getting another chance. At the shot I saw dirt fly over the top of him. I had forgotten to hold low!

Fortunately this dumb turkey hunter had the dumbest turkey in the world for a target. He sort of ducked then just stood there looking at where the dirt had kicked up. I did not forget to hold low on the second shot. As I stood on his head I noticed that something did not look right. Even to my amateur eye this was obviously a hybrid mix between a Merriam and Eastern. The good thing is that Nebraska has a three bird limit so I re-upped for another bird - resolving not to fire until I seen the whites of its feather tips.



The next day the outfitter took me to a cutover hay field with a thin stretch of trees in a creek bottom bordering it. At daylight I heard one far off gobble. It was so far away that I did not know if it was even on the lease property. I stayed put along the woods edge and found a patch of tall native grass to sit in. I never have seen so many deer in my life. At one time I counted 63 that crossed in front of me all in one herd or gaggle or whatever you call a bunch of deer. They were big deer compared to our whitetails – I suspect nearly twice as big.

I accepted that this day was going to be a loss of 12 hours of my life and drifted out some calls about half an hour apart then practiced dozing off between them. The boat cushion I was sitting on somehow transformed itself into a rock and I needed to stand up for a while. As I shifted and rolled to get my half asleep leg under me to stand up I noticed something odd in the grass about 20 feet away. It was a gobbler’s head and I could almost see my reflection in his beady little eyes. I raised my BPS as he left town at Ostrich speed. He would have gotten completely away if he had stayed in that high grass and kept his head down but the dummy stopped and raised his periscope to look back at me.



I still do not have that tail spreading right.

My resolution to hold fire until I seen the white tips went out the window then and there. I was mad at him for not saying anything on his way in so I killed him. What luck. He had the right color tips. I still don’t know if I called him in or if he was just passing by. It did not matter. My luck was still with me. I had killed the two dumbest turkeys in Nebraska. I named them Dumb and Dumber. Two dumb turkeys in a row had to be a sign of good luck and phase four was on. I needed a Rio.

A couple more weeks went by before I could get away again. Soon I headed out to an outfitter I found on the Internet that sounded good. This time I was to have a guide. When I arrived for a two-day hunt the outfitter was full of bad news. The spring had been so early that the hens were all on the nest. The gobblers were dispersed and not gobbling. He was calling his Rio hunts that followed mine and was telling them to postpone until next year. Uh-oh. My luck has run out for sure now.

Later that day my local guide dropped by on his way to do some scouting. I needed some encouragement so I jumped in his truck to have a look. The guide knew of a location of a turkey nest that had been run over by a mower and reasoned that the hen was back in the market for boyfriends. We took a short drive to the farm and sat in the truck near the field. At fly-up time we heard four distinct turkeys flap into the canopy of a big sycamore tree. If there was only one hen then there must be three gobblers we thought.

The next morning we crossed the newly emerging cornfield well before daylight and set up by a fence. An owl started off the day followed by three distinct gobblers. One had a very squeaky gobble. Unfortunately they all flew down on the other side of a deep creek that we would not be able to cross. We kept calling and one pealed off the threesome and flew back across the creek landing less than 20 yards out. I was excited as we walked up to him. I had just completed the grand slam all in one spring season. But not so fast – another hybrid. This time an Eastern / Rio hybrid. Them darn Eastern turkeys sure get around. Not wanting to hear that, I called over a local taxidermist who to my disappointment agreed that it was a hybrid. He said it was maybe three generations back but was definitely a hybrid.



(Still don't have the tail spread right but improving)

Well Kansas had a two bird limit so why not try again? It’s only money. So the next day we went back to the same band or gaggle or whatever you call more than a pair of turkeys. This time we sat up on the other side of the creek at the edge of a field of alfalfa. At fly-down the remaining two gobblers started working their way toward us but were detained by the hen. They gobbled at the calls but would not come to us. Finally everything got quiet. We both suspected they were coming. Shortly I noticed some movement just outside the high grass I was sitting in. It was about six feet (literally a mans length) in front of my toes. I recognized it as the tip of the tail of a strutting tom. As I moved the shotgun barrel toward him he beat me to the draw and bugged out. He made only one mistake when he pulled a hard right turn to get back into the woods. As we made our way to him the guide stopped and gave me the high five. “Pure Rio” he said.



(I think I got the tail spreading right this time)

Thank you for sharing your gret adventure and success. I'm not a turkey hinter but enjoyed reading your explots.

Jim

Most excellent! Congrats on the homeland slam! I look forward to doing it myself when I have lots of free time.

What a great read...thank you for sharing your wonderful adventures with us.

Ocellated Turkey should be next on your list.

Then maybe Gould's (AZ, NM get them in limited quantities)

That was great! Nice report and good hunting!

Palmer-you old rascal. I haven't seen you in a long time. Don;t get to Branson much since my moyher-in-law moved up to Springfield. I am proud to let you know that both my granddaugthers got their first turkeys this spring youth season. Youngest in 10 and killed a turkey with second longest beard in history or Missouri. 15 3/4 inches long. Call me at 353-0747 sometime when you will be in Springfield and we'll do lunch.

Darrell Ragar
3443 S Newton
Spdf. Mo.

Thanks for the comments everyone. The more I hunt turkey the more I come to respect it as an adversary that you can hunt by yourself.

Darrell - will look forward to checking in with you again.

Great job! I got an eastern and a merriam this spring. Those hybrids sure add to the story, not many people can say they did the grand slam and got the two hybrids. Some day I want to do this too!

edholum,

You are right. In fact my guide on the last turkey hunt told me that a lot of people who have gotten the grand slam in the past are now coming back to get their hybrids.

He calls that a "super slam". I doubt if that is an official NWTF name however. Nevertheless, any excuse to hunt a turkey is a good one.

It would be fun to get the Goulds and Ocellated turkeys that Collector has a line on.

Nice birds Palmer, congrats!

Great post. Great story telling skills.

I lead a very sheltered life out here in Idaho.

What does this have to do with obama?

Nice Turkeys, btw...

Rich

Rich, you have evidently planned well – I am happy for you.

Actually, of the three regulars at our early morning McDonalds coffee drinking society (We can get a “senior” cup with refills for about 63 cents) the retired state civil engineer member has seen absolutely no change in his lifestyle during the Obama reign.

The attorney member is joyfully experiencing the greatest years of his career. He has nearly doubled his fee and is still overrun with bankruptcies, divorces and company break-ups. He thinks Obama is just great and he (the attorney and Obama also) is getting filthy rich (place emphasis on the filthy).

As an architect dependent on developers (who lack confidence in this economy) for my business income, I like many others in this second oldest profession in the world (prostitution outdating us), am having the leanest years of my 41 plus year career.

Thus my safari this year is local and cheap. I think of it as my Obama safari.

That does not mean it was bad. In fact, I have had more fun hunting turkeys in the good old USA this year than on some (but not all) of my 13 African safaris.

Nevertheless, you can probably figure out whom I am not going to vote for in November. Enjoy your good fortune.

Bet you can't guess what my initial thought was...

Perish the thought.

Posting for Palmer

Ocellated Turkey.

Looks like one of those Easterns took up with a Peacock.

That would be a great hunt and could be combined with seeing the Mayan ruins.

What time of year are they hunted? Do they gobble and can you call them with our turkey calls?

Do they have a beard?

Palmer
I have often run into ruins while hunting Ocellated Turkey. You can visit the more touristy areas, after or before the hunt.

Hunting takes place in spring time, however it gets pretty hot in the Yucatan during spring.

Ocellated do not gobble, they sing a song which is very melodic...once you hear a male sing it early in the morning you will not forget it for the rest of your life.

No beard on the males...however, the daggers are unbelievably long.

Please check out this thread when you get a chance. If you get done with Turkey early, then you can go after Brocket deer in the same area.

http://forums.accuratereloadin...961033651#7961033651