It's a widely held notion in the fall hunting tradition that you've got to break up the flock to gain a tactical calling advantage. It's true, that works, whether you employ a dog where legal, or flush the groups on foot using terrain to get close.

You can also simply set up in the woods where turkey sign is fresh, and cold call. Clucks, hen yelps, kee-kees, kee-kee-runs, even gobbling, can draw curious flocks closer.

During the my recent hunts, whether hunting alone or with a buddy, we've seen success cold calling both family flocks (brood hens and birds of the year), and bigger adult groups (containing broodless hens and full-fan gobblers) inside 40 yards—often closer.

And it's no fluke, over the years this tactic has consistently put fall turkeys in range.

Any of you Strut Zoners simply set up and call to your fall birds, either at fly-down time, during the day, or before they go to roost? Any luck using this strategy?—Steve Hickoff

Saturday, October 18, 2008: Shotgun hunt. York County, Maine. Opening day, frosty and cold, the sky full of stars. Roost pitting around daybreak told me treed turkeys were alerted, but I sat down any way. When some hit the ground, I called, imitating their vocalizations. I had the shotgun safety off as a young gobbler worked my way, but then it veered off, hustling toward the yapping brood hen.

I continued to call, and pull birds closer, but eventually the flock drifted away on assembling. Distant shotgun reports throughout the morning, starting not far off at first legal light as well, told me other hunters were seeing action—either on wild turkeys, or maybe waterfowl. I stuck it out, and eventually heard gobbler yelping, fighting purrs, wings colliding, gobbling, hen assembly yelping, and all manner of calling from young birds regrouping. Good deal right?

Wrong. They were on a nearby property I couldn’t hunt. I called. Some would answer. The racket was so loud I crept closer just for a look-see, and saw (no lie) several full-fan strutters fighting on the property edge, sorting out the pecking order. Don’t tell the desk biologists who might disagree about adult male turkeys running with birds of the year. I saw it, have seen it, and will see it again no doubt. I heard another game-over shot over in that direction (obviously someone with permission), and walked away to my truck, only to see a hunting buddy drive by. We broke for coffee, and returned several hours later.

Not long after we called, and talked a little with the distant birds. They answered, but wouldn’t cross the line to our setup. Then we heard the rumble of a four-wheeler approaching, right through the woods to my seated friend. He held out his camouflaged arms at the last second, and we heard one of the two teenage girls say: “Ohmigod you almost gave me a heart attack!” Likewise.

They moved on toward the once-vocal unhuntable turkeys. My buddy gave me that "what-the-heck" look. In disbelief we heard the renegade ATV rumble back our way, right back on the trail to my bud, the girls laughing and carrying on. The driver stopped, said, giggling: “DID WE SCARE ALL OF YOUR TURKEYS AWAY?” It wasn’t really a question. Her passenger then yelled, as if seeing an alien being: “Ohmigod there’s another one over there!” meaning me. At that, they wheeled off again. We packed up and left.
—Steve Hickoff

James Patch sent a short report and photo of his mid-month New Hampshire bow turkey taken during the Granite State archery-only season:

Hey Steve,
Had some success today in NH in way of a 12 lb hen. I will confess that two other arrows were launched earlier in the week without cutting a feather! These guys that sit in tent blinds to hunt birds with bows because "it's challenging" need to leave that blind at home if they want a challenge. Plunking your butt up against a tree and drawing your bow on a flock of birds is definitely challenging . . . and fun! I even left my cushion in the truck this morning so my butt was a little sore by 7:30 am when the birds finally showed. It all worked out though.

At least that’s what some of my turkey buds like to say . . .

Friday, October 17, 2008. Bowhunt: Strafford County, New Hampshire.
A month into the season, I found 21 archery-only turkeys on a field edge not long after fly-down (early-hatch, good-sized birds). Got within 10 steps (seriously!) after S-L-O-W-L-Y moving 100 yards in a half hour inside the dense post-rain woods. Had an okay arrowing opportunity, but some cover was in the way. Wanted a better shot. One bird putted, and a 42-eyed chain reaction followed. Put my Hoyt compound bow down where I could find it again, and rushed ’em, a tactic that relies on separating gregarious birds to call them back.

Set up. Waited. Called. A brood hen (one of a couple in the group) set up behind me. I repositioned in the woods, closer to the yapping hen, called in a young bird from the other way with kee-kees. Drew the bow (turkey at just five yards now!). It didn't step out from behind cover like I wished it would, but putted, hustled away. I called, got responses from other birds that worked in to me. They got together in a swampy creek bottom. Heard ’em regroup. Saw the flock gathered now, slowly moving away. Put my bow down again, and got a super break in that swamp, the wad of birds flying in all directions.

Waited 10, 15 minutes after the action. Called, one answered. Then another. Got ’em fired up, and this audio included gobbling, but one of the brood hens eventually beat me at that game as they often do, and yelped most of them in by the end of that wild session.

Had remembered seeing a young gobbler fly the other way on my second flock bust. Walked in that direction through the woods, called (kee-kee-runs). Got a response. Bird worked in to me, close, but hung up, clucking behind cover. Brood hen called agitatedly, across the fairly deep creek. Fall jake kept coming to me—coming hard, yelping and gobbling now as best he could do being a bird of the year, likely fired up by the rowdy calling. It appeared to my extreme right (reddish head, standing tall, just 25 steps or so. I'm ready to draw my bow when it goes behind a tree, and walks even closer to my setup). Thing is, it didn't like not seeing the turkey I'd been imitating, so it did an end around in front of me, toward the brood hen, putting now, hurrying.

Then it got REAL quiet. I'd misplaced my seat cushion during all the action, and returned to my setup spots until I found it. Minor success!—Steve Hickoff

Hey Strut Zoners . . . I've hunted the New Hampshire archery turkey season since it opened Sept. 15, crossing the state border from my home base in southern Maine, and driving road miles to my Granite State turkey spots. Still carryin' a tag. Looking for a dumb longbeard. Will adjust goals as the long season passes, and look for anything legal, later. Closes Dec. 15. Plenty of time to go.

A turkey bud killed a NH adult hen this week though, and had the nerve to credit me for his fall turkey buzz. In my book, that's almost as good as arrowing one myself.

Well, you know about my SZ cohort Gerry Bethge and his turkey dog Jake. Having troubles on my end too: my English setter Radar, 6, came up lame the first week of October just before the first New York weekend of turkey season. Swollen hock. Blood work at the vet's and a 10 minute wait told the story. It's often the first and only sign of tick-borne infection. The diagnosis: Lyme and anaplasmosis. He was nearly two October weeks into the doxycycline treatments when he lacerated his chest in the woods while out with me in NH on the rebound. Cut wide open. Barbed wire likely to blame. Sutures, inside and out, the works. More meds. Yes, he usually wears a protective vest. No I didn't have it on him. My bad.

As some of you in the turkey dogging community know, I buried my lemon and white setter Midge near a hawthorn tree on our New England property (savaged by tick-induced kidney disease, Lyme then anaplasmosis at the wire). There's a reason my book Fall & Winter Turkey Hunter's Handbook is dedicated to her. My older dog Jen, 12, is now pretty much blind and nearly deaf. So . . . I'm hunting the Maine Zone 3 fall turkey (shotgun) opener this coming Saturday, Oct. 18. No dog, though they're legal. I know how to bark, and rush the flock, men's hoops league legs willing. A full report will follow . . . Will hit Vermont's fall turkey firearms opener on Sat., Oct. 25. Ditto. New York? Hoping to. Keep us all posted on the SZ, and I will too, turkey dog stories, or others, we'd love to hear from ya. —Steve Hickoff

While Strut Zone’s Steve Hickoff is off gallivanting the nation striking fear into the hearts of fall turkey flocks everywhere, I’ll try to hold down the fort for a few days…

When last you heard from me, I was mourning the pending loss of my turkey dog Jake. But as someone’s momma must have said at one time or another: “If life deals you lemons, go make some lemonade.” So this is a short story of what it’s like to open a lemonade stand. I’ll have more on this sensational fall turkey hunt later this week, but wanted to get up a quick post today.

After spotting some good scratchings on Saturday, I got on a roosted flock Sunday morning along with hunting buddies Matt Hogan, El Carhart and Cliff Horton. Not knowing exactly where the birds were roosted, we spread out across a ridgetop and waited for daylight. I started soft-calling just as the squirrels began to scurry around and was met instantly with excited clucks and cutting. I’d love to say that we made short work of the birds, but it’d be lying.

I can, however, say that young Matt Hogan hammered a fine adult gobbler to score on his first turkey ever! Way to go, Matt!

More to photos and words on the hunt later this week.—Gerry Bethge

It's been awhile since I've posted and I apologize for not having done so after promising to provide updates last weekend—the first weekend of New York's turkey season. Problem is that things haven't worked out so well for me.

Jake, my John-Byrne turkey dog, has provided me with many seasons of amazing moments in the fall woods. In fact, when I tried to recall them all during the past couple of days, but lost track. He wasn't the greatest turkey dog in the world, but he was mine and he was really, really good. I hoped like hell to get one more season out of Jake.

His best buddy in the world was my daughter Amy and although she has shot two spring gobblers with me, she's never taken a fall bird with her buddy, Jake. I tried desperately to make that happen last weekend.

We quickly got on some fresh scratchings on Sunday morning, however, Jake wasn't much up to the task. Oh, his spirit was certainly more than willing, but after watching him stumble over a few deadfalls for the sixth time, I honestly could not take any more.

"THIS is breaking my heart," I said to whomever would listen. "I can't handle another second."

Within the next few weeks, Jake will be put down--the pain of getting into my truck and running off after turkeys are just too great. I'm trying to come to grips with it.—Gerry Bethge

1. Fall turkeys are too easy

Some are. Some aren’t. Autumn turkeys can be easy once you find them, but locating flocks isn’t always a sealed deal. Food sources can be widespread in October and November, the heart of fall-turkey hunting around the country. As a result, groups of birds can roam widely. This is especially true for ridgetop turkeys in mountainous regions of the country. You may find sign in the form of scratchings, tracks, droppings and dusting areas, but never contact the live birds. When you do though, yes, it can be easier, but not always . . .
I’ve tagged fall turkeys on opening day not long after fly-down time. I’ve hunted autumn flocks on a Vermont ridge for days, with fresh scratchings all around me, without filling a tag. Is this anything different than hunting spring gobblers? Turkey hunting is turkey hunting.

Fact: Wild turkeys, young or old, are delicious on the table when prepared with care. My Thanksgiving Day simply wouldn’t be the same without one.

2. You can’t call fall longbeards

Not unless you try. Thinking like a wild turkey will help. In spring, male turkeys are inclined to seek out hens to breed them. Our calling tradition then focuses around making clucks and hen yelps to lure gobblers in. In fall, male turkeys roam in gobbler gangs. Survival—primarily roosting and feeding—and pecking order rule their movements. To call a fall longbeard to the gun or bow you have to adapt your calling. Clucking, gobbler yelping, and gobbling can do just that.

Once on a Vermont fall turkey hunt, my English setter Midge broke up a flock of gobblers my buddy Lawrence Pyne had seen while bowhunting. Our hunting partner Marc Brown would be the shooter. Calling included clucking, gobbler yelping, and most importantly aggressive purring. I watched as one longbeard skirted our setup, and moved on past. Not long after, another approached silently, and looked in the direction of the calling. Just then, Brownie purred aggressively, and I watched as that brick-red head turned red, white and blue. That fired-up tom, his shoulders hunched like Count Dracula, stalked into range.

That was the last thing that fall longbeard did.—Steve Hickoff

Using turkey dogs in states where it’s legal offers plenty. Mostly it allows you to find and flush autumn flocks more effectively. But then you have another challenge: How do you hide that canine hunting partner in the blind so that you can call scattered turkeys back? Training at an early age helps. Still, that dog—eager to get close to those turkeys again—might have a hard time staying still; a necessity.

In truth, dogs are like hunters. Some are good, and some are a work-in-progress. The ability to use turkey dogs effectively is usually done best by a serious fall turkey hunter. Work on the latter aspect first. If I could count how many turkey flocks my dogs have busted, which I couldn’t, then compared it to the birds in those groups I’ve tagged, you’d ask me why I don’t hunt deer more enthusiastically than autumn gobblers and hens. Again, having a canine along for companionship, and then seeing that dog find and flush turkeys, is my first measure of success. Period. Yes, sealing the deal, calling and killing a legal fall bird is what it’s all about. But it’s not everything, and it’s not always easy. Dogs are as fair as any other tool we use. Any thoughts, Strut Zoners?—Steve Hickoff

“Calling a sexed-up gobbler in spring is about as easy as shooting fish in a barrel.”
–Overheard in a Pennsylvania roadside diner in the early 1970s

“Hunting fall turkeys is just too easy. I’d rather hunt spring gobblers.”
–A comment from a turkey seminar attendee in Massachusetts this year

You hear a lot of ideas about turkey hunting getting tossed around these days. Myth or fact, you decide . . .

The turkey hunting tradition actually has its roots in autumn and winter hunting. Before the notion of “spring is for beards, fall is for antlers” came into the minds of modern turkey hunters, flock-seeking sportsmen sought out their game during the woodstove months. Back then some hunters held a prevalent notion that taking a breed-minded gobbler in the spring was easy. Even unfair.

A Pennsylvania native, I first hunted wild turkeys in 1971 at age 12. I can still remember old-timers (guys my age now!) talking about how turkey hunting in the spring was just flat-out wrong. You see Pennsylvania had just legalized spring turkey hunting in 1968 after being closed since 1873. By 1984, a month-long Keystone State spring turkey season was in place for bearded birds, and has been since.

Traditions shift.

What do you Strut Zoners think? Is calling in a sexed-up spring gobbler not as hard as we say or think? Is hunting fall turkeys too easy?–Steve Hickoff