This hunt was more about renewing old friendships and making new ones than turkeys. Although we did a lot of hunting, like many good camps, we did a fair amount of sitting, talking about life and eating! I volunteered as camp cook and enjoyed the the heck out of preparing our evening meals. We used wild game in all of our dishes and it was cool to hang with some great hunters and eat real food!
We also got quite a treat all the way from South Carolina! Seems Duckbutt and Ms Delaney were busy with a poundcake to be delivered to Tippit, and it was awesome! Duckbutt is a veteran of this hunt and couldn't make it this year. We missed you man! Luckily for us Tippit is the sharing kind of fella.
*Our man Tippit and and gift from SC
So when we arrived and met Nick, it was like old times again. Tippit had his son Zach along, and this was to be his first crack at turkeys. Zach is a budding traditional bowhunter and a helluva great guy. You see Tippit when you see Zach, his humor, his focus when telling a story. He lives all of our dreams: Ski Patrol, Search and Rescue at Crested Butte by day, blacksmith and knife maker by night. Impressive young man. So we had 4 trad guys: me, Dirtnap Dave (Sheltoncreeker), Tippit and Zach, and one "other" weapon fella, Critter, who was a hoot, but for the sake of our story here on TG, will remain a silent character. He is anything but!
So with a full belly of elk chili we schemed our morning plans. Nick Klintworth runs an unguided camp for our week. He knows his ranch, and he knows what his birds are doing. Until he smiles and shakes your hand you get a glimpse of a steely-eyed rancher, a toughness that is conveyed with no words. You then see him work nonstop on that ranch and know that he is a man content with his place in life. You know he loves what he is doing, and you know that he enjoys having hunters who love these birds as much as him on the Klintworth. Together with his family, they make a living doing what they love.
*Nick and Tippt
So plans hatched we racked it. The am came early, 4:30 always does. The anticipation of the hunt for me always maxes out the adrenalin as we leave. I was first to be dropped off as I had something in mind...seems our buddy Joe Lasch (Whip) was absent this trip, as was the founding court jester and my turkey hunting hero Joe Buck. Looks like I had the canyon to myself. Whips or Joey's? Whips or Joey's...coin flip. Whips wins. Now say what you want, honey-hole thief, horning in on a spot...I don't care. Call it the sincerest form of flattery
So, I placed Sparky, my often mistreated love-god jake wannabe directly over my bedded hen, Jewel. I placed my other Avian X Annie nearby, and settled into "Whips Spot". Don't think those dekes don't do the job. All of my birds the last two years have come off of these. Here is a Klintworth hen with Annie. Is it live or is it memorex?
*Which is witch?
At daylight the cascade of calls began, hens softly then loud then cackles and finally a crescendo of sound resonating through the holler of a BUNCH of toms letting her rip! Just before light I catch a glimpse of a deer, a whitey, then a trio of mulies come across the valley. Soon there after I see them. Black dots marching in the distance directly to me...
Topic: Gobblepazoolza 2014 (Read 2414 times)
