Well it’s that time of year again at work, so I’ve been busy busy…These pics are way over due.
The story goes like this.
My brother called me up and asked if I wanted to go to Wyoming for some Turkey hunting.
I said well “I can’t really afford it right now” and he replied “I’ll just use a few of my frequent flyer miles and the tickets would cost ten bucks”. “Twist my arm lets go”.
Naturally I took my recurve but he is a smokepole hunter, who am I to judge, he’s my brother and he just got me a free ticket to an adventure in the Black Hills of Wyoming!
Any ways we set off and of course we get delayed in Chicago and get re-routed to Denver then to Rapid City South Dakota are final destination. We arrive four hours later than we were supposed to, of course the airline left our baggage in Chicago. They tell us it will be here 9am the next morning. We only had three days of hunting, one day scouting, and two days of actual hunting. Ok not to bad yet…but it gets worse. Next morning we get to the airport ask them if the luggage will arrive and, NOPE, the man says they missed the first flight. Next flight is due to arrive at 12:00pm, ok again not bad. We get the remaining camping supplies we couldn’t fly with at the local Cabela’s and back to the airport. Again, NOPE not there yet, plane is delayed and won’t arrive until 2:30pm. So we go for a drive and see Mount Rushmore and some local grasslands. We finally get our bags and head to Wyoming!
We arrive around the Black Hills sometime around 5:00pm and immediately are shocked at the steepness of the terrain! What you westerners call “hills” are bigger than any mountain here in New York. Anyway we buck up and begin driving two track roads looking for sign. There is still some snow on the ground and thanks to a tip from a fellow tradganger I was looking hard in the snow for some tracks. After about an hour or so we came across some older turkey tracks and we decided this area would be a good starting point in the morning, if we don’t find anything else, and sure enough nothing else turned up and we headed back to the tracks to set up camp for the night. We get to a level spot and turn off the car, jump out to get some dinner and gear ready for the following morning. Before my feet hit the ground I heard a gobble. I looked at my brother and just smiled “Game On”!
Well enough of the story and let’s keep it short from here…We worked a lot of birds, botched a lot of stalks, and had one fantastic opportunity to take a fine Merriam but my brother was the shooter and I was filming and I was not expecting him to pass this fine bird up. However, he told me after I questioned his judgment; the beard was to “small” and “wispy”. I was dumb founded! But it’s not about the kill, it was a fantastic memory and I won’t ever forget the look of that bird. He was magnificent! We had a fantastic adventure and won’t give up that easily, we’ll be back after those Merriam Turkeys...some day.
The bird my brother passed up I was shooting with the camera over his left shoulder.
Topic: Back From Wyoming Turkey Hunt (Read 289 times)
