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The Pointing Dog Journal – Yuba

The Pointing Dog Journal – Yuba

November 3, 2017February 26, 2023Brad Trumbo

The story that kicked off my professional writing career involves my Llewellin setter, Laurel Mountain’s Yuba, who is equally responsible for my love affair with upland bird hunting. Her first rooster will never be forgotten!

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← Pheasant Hunting the Walla Walla Valley Uplands

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It’s hard to believe these amazing birds once stood at the precipice of extinction. From an estimated 10 million in the late 1800s down to under 250,000 in the early 1900s and climbing back up to over 6 million in North America, this incredible comeback is owed to conservation efforts and legislation, the Great Depression (believe it or not), state agency reintroductions, and the National Wild Turkey Federation.
Idaho turkey 2023: Birds were all over Friday when we arrived and we put a half-dozen toms to bed up the canyon behind the house. By 5:20am Saturday, birds were pouring off the roost. Five toms hit the ground headed straight for us from about 800 yards. Following a short break to listen for hens, three of the toms closed the last 200 yards. This guy was last in line as they filed below the decoy and he just happened to be the biggest of the three. Everything that could spoil the hunt happened (another story all together). Somehow we passed over the pitfalls and wound up with this bird. Despite over a dozen toms spread across the acreage we could hunt, the birds became increasingly quiet throughout Saturday and virtually vanished by Sunday morning. Little did we know that this bird was our only chance and a true blessing.
The more I watch and learn about these big beautiful birds, the more I enjoy them. Additionally, 16 minutes-ish in a pressure cooker with some salt, pepper, and @harvestingnature wild fowl seasoning prepares a breast half perfectly for any dish!
Calling turkeys is not the only successful way to hunt America’s most popular game bird. Patterning turkeys, knowing a flock’s routine and using terrain to develop a strategy can be highly effective, but there is more to be gained than coordinates from watching a flock. It’s an honor to share my experience hunting turkeys around their routine in the spring edition of the Backcountry Journal.
Fog settled in the creek bottom, providing cover for my approach. A bald eagle perched on the edge of its nest, appearing ghostly through the mist as it looked down upon a flock of mallards that loafed on a nearby gravel bar. A kingfisher caught my eye, perched in similar fashion to the eagle and presented a distraction from my goal of jump shooting the ducks. As I snaked through the creek side weeds seeking just the right photo angle, the kingfisher departed, followed by a dozen mallards. In a moment of serendipity, I found that my wandering while fixed on the kingfisher carried me into perfect position to jump the ducks. A second wave of mallards lifted off flying left to right. Their trajectory took them over land, and with the perfect lead, I singled out this beautiful drake. The fowl of this earth are a marvel, each one, and the varied charcoal and chocolate tones of the drakes body provided a canvas for which the brilliance of the purple wing stripe and emerald head plumage popped vibrantly. I could taste confit as I gathered my bounty and strolled along the creek to the tumble of water coursing toward the ocean.
.
That look when the dog has been on point and enduring my screwing around for an absurd amount of time. It was our limiting bird and I wasn’t ready to end the hunt to end. Eventually, I pressured the bird between us and connected perfectly, and took this old girl home for some cookies and rest. Finn is 11 this year and arthritis in her spine is dramatically shortening her hunts. Nevertheless, I am excited to see what we get into this coming fall.

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Instagram - tailfeathers_upland

It’s hard to believe these amazing birds once stood at the precipice of extinction. From an estimated 10 million in the late 1800s down to under 250,000 in the early 1900s and climbing back up to over 6 million in North America, this incredible comeback is owed to conservation efforts and legislation, the Great Depression (believe it or not), state agency reintroductions, and the National Wild Turkey Federation.
Idaho turkey 2023: Birds were all over Friday when we arrived and we put a half-dozen toms to bed up the canyon behind the house. By 5:20am Saturday, birds were pouring off the roost. Five toms hit the ground headed straight for us from about 800 yards. Following a short break to listen for hens, three of the toms closed the last 200 yards. This guy was last in line as they filed below the decoy and he just happened to be the biggest of the three. Everything that could spoil the hunt happened (another story all together). Somehow we passed over the pitfalls and wound up with this bird. Despite over a dozen toms spread across the acreage we could hunt, the birds became increasingly quiet throughout Saturday and virtually vanished by Sunday morning. Little did we know that this bird was our only chance and a true blessing.
The more I watch and learn about these big beautiful birds, the more I enjoy them. Additionally, 16 minutes-ish in a pressure cooker with some salt, pepper, and @harvestingnature wild fowl seasoning prepares a breast half perfectly for any dish!
Calling turkeys is not the only successful way to hunt America’s most popular game bird. Patterning turkeys, knowing a flock’s routine and using terrain to develop a strategy can be highly effective, but there is more to be gained than coordinates from watching a flock. It’s an honor to share my experience hunting turkeys around their routine in the spring edition of the Backcountry Journal.
Fog settled in the creek bottom, providing cover for my approach. A bald eagle perched on the edge of its nest, appearing ghostly through the mist as it looked down upon a flock of mallards that loafed on a nearby gravel bar. A kingfisher caught my eye, perched in similar fashion to the eagle and presented a distraction from my goal of jump shooting the ducks. As I snaked through the creek side weeds seeking just the right photo angle, the kingfisher departed, followed by a dozen mallards. In a moment of serendipity, I found that my wandering while fixed on the kingfisher carried me into perfect position to jump the ducks. A second wave of mallards lifted off flying left to right. Their trajectory took them over land, and with the perfect lead, I singled out this beautiful drake. The fowl of this earth are a marvel, each one, and the varied charcoal and chocolate tones of the drakes body provided a canvas for which the brilliance of the purple wing stripe and emerald head plumage popped vibrantly. I could taste confit as I gathered my bounty and strolled along the creek to the tumble of water coursing toward the ocean.
.
That look when the dog has been on point and enduring my screwing around for an absurd amount of time. It was our limiting bird and I wasn’t ready to end the hunt to end. Eventually, I pressured the bird between us and connected perfectly, and took this old girl home for some cookies and rest. Finn is 11 this year and arthritis in her spine is dramatically shortening her hunts. Nevertheless, I am excited to see what we get into this coming fall.

Search

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  • Features
  • Birds, Books, Setters, and Upland Hunting
  • Books
  • Gear Reviews

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