Barnyard Bash: A Turkey Hunt To Remember

Turkey hunting consists of sitting on the cold hard ground, or from a pop up blind. But have you ever hunted out of an old dairy barn?

Every hunt is one to remember, but this one will be vividly engrained in my memory bank for all of my time. Not sure if another one can top off this double whammy out of a dairy barn with my father.

Barnyard Bash:

The day started off with a morning sit of watching the birds overlook our set. All too familiar. After watching the birds we roosted the night before drift off, we packed up and hit the dirt in search of a 'dumb one'. We all like to refer to these birds as something that they clearly aren't but muster out of spite. It's what keeps us relentlessly pursuing these 20 plus pound prehistorically looking birds. Anyways. My dad and I scan the map for something we haven't been to in awhile. We stumble upon spot a that hasn't been hit in years. After thorough consideration, we concur this spot could be the honey-hole . Heading south, far from the main grouping of allowable hunting ground, we set forth in hopes of finding that 'dumb one'.

Pulling off the road, we scan the horizon. Storm-front. We know time is of the essence and this might be it till later that night, possibly. Loading the guns, putting on our vests, and taking a long draw of black camp coffee, we set off. Following the creek bank, we creep along staying low and placing each step benignly so that we don't spook anything. Occasionally stopping to let out a few yelps or a crow hoping that 'dumb one' will be receptive. Yet, to no avail. We trudge on further away from the truck combing over the ground hoping to see some sign. After seeing plenty of deer sign and talk of coming back with a bow in the fall, we do find some wing feathers presumptively from a strutting tom, or so we hope. We eventually come to the end of the property and head back to the truck. My dad insists we drive a little further to gain a vantage point of a milo field adjacent to the creek just treked. The only entry to the field was through an old abandoned farmstead that was one hell of a place in its prime. Driving on through, we flush some quail that intrigue us and note of their location for this coming fall. Back to turkey hunting. We glass the field hoping to find these escape artists out milling around. After which, we decide to cross this spot off the map and turn back to the farmstead. Out of the corner of our eye, we spot a group of seven 'dumb ones'. Two toms, three jakes, and two hens. If you ask me, we have a pretty good chance at pulling at least one of them off of the two hens. At this point, we will take a Jake- truly a 'dumb one'. Not 100 yards from them, we watch them as they mill around under some cedars sensing a storm is near. After nearly an hour the birds start to meander toward the barn. We decide we better make a move on them or go else where. After all, they were in between the road out and us. Leaving us with the only option to pull the truck up to the barn hoping they don't spook and we sit there devising a plan to stalk these birds. We get to the barn without spooking them.

In thinking that once we got to the barn a plan would have already developed itself, it didn't. We had no way of putting a stalk on them from our current location. Once inside this old dairy barn, we work our way through the shadows peeping out of the windows and cracks hoping to catch a glimpse of these birds while at the same time soaking in what this barn had to offer. It was great. I was in awe at the structure and tools frozen in time for decades. The barn had stalls that were obviously for milking cows while serving as a shed for storage. There was a plethora of old farm equipment in there, I could have spent the rest of the day picking through it all. Lost in the antiquities of it, I snapped back to hunting when hearing the infamous gobble. Finding my way to a window, I spotted a hen. The hen had passed us much quicker than anticipated and we knew the 'dumb ones' were bound to follow. My dad and I took to our positions at a window and made claim to the barn as if it were a fortress on the brink of being breached by the enemy. It seemed as if hours had passed before those red heads appeared. When in range, I close my eyes, take a deep breath, open them and squeeze. With a well placed shot, the flop followed and my father took his own after I initiated the first shot. A double whammy!

I couldn't believe it, I pulled a double with my dad out of an old dairy barn. This was truly a novel experience. This was the best blind to date that I had ever fired a shot from.

Don't forget to: "Immerse yourself in the outdoor experience. It will cleanse your soul and make you a better person."

- Fred Bear