Scouting Chassahowitzka for Spring Turkey IV - A New Hope

Scouting is hope. You can pore through aerial maps, ride the roads, and ask others where to look for your chosen quarry, but the real excitement doesn’t start building until you do some actual snooping around. Sometimes the things you find aren’t exactly what you went seeking, but are certainly thrilling.

This last weekend I finally burned calories wandering around Chassahowitzka (Part I, II, III). Emerging from a swamp bottom off the North Road, Dad and I cut a set of large hog tracks. Really large. One set of hoofprints led up the hill, and a corresponding set led back down the road to the swamp. We followed the tracks for a hundred yards or so to a skinny pine sapling in the middle of a burned scrub flat, far from the cover of the cypress. The poor tree had been rubbed raw by the hog. Teeth marks were gashed into the bark. The most remarkable aspect of this find was the height of the rub – up to my hip, and I am six feet tall. This was a bad boy, the Darth Vader of swine.

He had obviously been using this tree for some time. Why he chose this particular one and wandered all this way to it is beyond me. On a place that runs dogs throughout a good portion of the season, this pig had obviously been pretty smart or pretty lucky to avoid capture, though I will say I pity any mutt that decides to latch onto his ear. Heck, maybe he has slashed one or two in his time. Again, I’ll never know.

On a hiking trail through the thick black-water, mosquito-breeding cypress swamp off Rattlesnake Camp Road, we found a couple of old boards nailed into a tree. You’d be excommunicated these days for doing such a thing. Dad remarked it was possible some boy killed his first deer off that stand. I thought the stand was so old somebody may have killed their first bear off of it. No telling.

And I guess I should be excited by the turkey potential, too. We jumped a flock of a dozen hens in one swamp. Following the old fire trail into the dark, we heard the rushing noise of stampeding critters through the head-high vegetation. Only when they took flight did I realize it was turkeys and not some blood-thirsty beastie.

We found tracks in a burned flat and up and down the roads. Wish we could have spied a gobbler or some strut marks, but no. Identifying roosting trees? Ha! They are all roosting trees at this place. The continuous swamp is a repeating cartoon background of tall cypress and pines. The two of us walked many a mile down hiking paths and trails and identified some promising spots. From there, it’s a gamble of where to set up.

Sorry, but I’m gonna play coy for now on the location of these places. When I lay a bird low, I’ll share these spots as my chances of drawing this hunt again are slim. Hopefully though, I’ll leave a blueprint for another lucky hunter needing some advice.

There’s nothing left to do now. I won’t have any more chances to scout. The weekends are getting busy again. I have a general plan of how to proceed. The birds will gobble or they won’t. If they do, I can go to my woodsmanship and calling “skills.”

I’m crossing my fingers the birds and weather will cooperate - it all comes down to hope.

Scouting Chassahowitzka for Spring Turkey III - Gobblers Gone Viral

Scouting for spring turkey season is an art that’s really only picked up steam in the last decade or so. Or maybe just written about in the last decade or so. I remember talking with my taxidermist a couple years ago about his hunts at Richloam WMA in central Florida. I asked how he went about scouting a property of that size, and he scoffed at the question.

"Well, I show up before light, listen for a gobble and work my way to him. I don't waste time scouting.”

I guess it worked for him. But I am also guessing he’s not the only one who employs this approach and has resulted in a few busted hunts and PO-ed hunters.

For me, turkey scouting was engrained at an early age – identifying roost trees, looking for tracks and scat, paying attention to where the gobblers hung out during the offseason, and getting to know the lay of the land. It was no real art and never 100% successful as turkey habits change throughout the spring, just some basic woodsmanship and observation skills. Of course, my history of turkey hunting has been conducted primarily on private lands with ample opportunity to see birds on a regular basis and explore the property at will.

Those days are gone. If I hunt private property these days, it is on an invite basis only, and I am stuck wherever someone wants to place me. Until this changes, I’m hunting WMA’s.

A lot of public land in Florida is downright daunting to the newbie. The Green Swamp, Richloam and others that allow entry without a quota are huge and access to scout throughout the year is limited. Big Cypress is even more intimidating. When season starts, you have the access, but plenty of other hunters wandering aimlessly about, too. If you can hunt during the work week, you have the advantage of access and fewer hunters, and yes, listening for a gobble and moving in is probably a safe gamble.

Weekend warriors such as me need to be a tad shrewder, I think. Again, I am not a pro on public land; I’m just picking things up as I go along. Case in point, I drew a quota tag for Chassahowitzka WMA. (You can read about my other scouting posts here: Part I & Part II). I’ve done my Google Earth scouting and have been able to get a general idea of the terrain. I’ve driven the property and got a real eye-opener. It is huge piece of thick land, and the hunting is going to be tough. Chazz, luckily, is open year-round, but it’s not exactly next door for me to scout. My next step was to ask around the Internet forums for advice.

Outdoor forums have become a valuable database for all sorts of hunting and fishing information. Yes, some will be hesitant or downright hostile towards helping others, especially when it involves their cherished hunting lands, but others are more than happy to lend a hand. I try to, at least.

The beauty of Chazz is only a handful of other hunters drew a tag this season. There won’t be several hundred hunters giving a crap about the turkey here this season and reluctant to swap notes. And I’ve received great advice on how to proceed with scouting and my hunt.

Bigcountry at NWTF.org really came through:

“That place is awful thick and the birds don’t gobble much! We hunted off of main grade where it starts to tee to the left and right! It’s mainly swamp but it’s got large roost trees and fairly open! We found a bluff in there with a lot of sign on it and went back the next day and listened that morning for a bird! Heard 9 different birds but none gobbled after they flew down! Between 7 and 9 we killed two 2 year olds on the same knoll!”

“Get in there before they hit the ground or ur gonna be mad! They calm up right after fly down! I’m sure you will be on birds if you make the trip! Let me know if I can help any! Maybe one day I can pick ur brain on a few places??? Have fun and good luck.”

That’s solid recon. I don’t think he’d purposely mess with a stranger!

Even if someone can’t offer firsthand knowledge on laying a bird low, they may know a thing or two about the land itself that can help you plan and prepare.

Rackman at Floridafishandhunt.com gave a sobering account of hunting here:

"At the end of rattle snake camp road there is a turn around spot with a picnic table. There’s a closed road that starts there and goes into the swamp. Just walk that road and you should see turkeys all day. Move slowly and keep your eyes on the ground, snakes are big and everywhere."

Noted.

Since no one invited me to hunt the opener in the South Zone this weekend, I am trekking out to Chazz to burn boot leather to check out these spots. Obviously, there are some advantages such as open access and limited hunters that Green Swamp enthusiasts won’t enjoy this season, but many of the tactics here can work there as well.

Social media is the chic form of communication these days, and promoting products and businesses and whatever else online is the norm. Going viral is the buzzword for utilizing social media to increase knowledge of whatever it is you want increased knowledge on. There’s no reason not to apply it to hunting – or, in this case, spring turkey scouting.

Busted! Turkey Tales of Woe

If you hunt gobblers long enough, you will get busted. A sure thing becomes a bad memory. I promise there is not a turkey hunter worth his salt who has not screwed up royally over the years – and never trust one who says otherwise.

I’ll never claim perfection. I’ve ruined enough hunts with bad decisions to even make such a remark, but at least I’ve come away with a lesson learned. Here are my Top 3 Gobbler Goofs (I could run this into the double digits, but would like spare myself some embarrassment).

3. Mr. Patience

I’d set up on the edge of a Florida oak hammock near a roost and dry wet-weather pond where I figured the birds would fly down. Morning came and not even a cluck. It was the first time I’d hunted this spot, but had plenty of reason to believe there was a gobbler in the area – I’d seen him on an earlier trip. Still, it was late in a warm season and gobbling activity had slackened, so I should have expected a quiet morning.

Impatience grabbed me early, though. I figured I could slip out to a cow pasture on the other side of the swamp and find a tom strutting.

I walked out to retrieve my decoys. As I returned to my oak-root seat to grab the rest of my gear, the gobbler was standing behind where I had been sitting, no doubt watching me get the dekes and shaking his head at this fool in the woods before high-tailing it, as only a gobbler can. But give it credit; the bird had more patience with me than I had for him.

Lesson Learned – It pays to have some faith in your set-up, especially late in the spring. Boss toms have an annoying habit of sneaking in quiet anyhow, but after the pressure of the season builds, they can go completely lockjaw. If you’ve done your scouting, located a bird and can exhibit just a bit more measure of self-control than you think you are capable of, you’ll probably get your tom, although it may not be the Made-For-TV moment of strutting and gobbling you expected.

2. Getting All Up In His Grill

If you’d watched gobblers constantly walk to this one tree to feed and strut, it’d make sense to sit under said tree to nail one, right?

One would think. I did such a thing. A huge oak sat in the middle of a 40 yard break between palmettos and a swamp bottom. Over the course of a couple mornings, we watched several toms strut right up to this tree and chase hens around before petering out into the cow pastures. I’d tried intercepting them on their way from the roost and on their way to the pastures with no luck. For some reason they keyed on this tree. They cared nothing about calls or decoys, and my set-ups were always just-too-far away from my kill zone.

Well, we’ll just solve that problem! One morning, a friend and I plopped down under the tree, deployed the decoys and waited. Sure enough, soon after the first crow caw a gobbler lit up, answering my calls and everything else – I could have thrown my box call against the tree and he would have gobbled.

He hit the ground gobbling and made his way to the tree. For some reason though, he held up.

Finally, I glimpsed back to see his head poking out of the myrtles, kinda like in Jurassic Park when the velociraptor kills the game warden – he was suddenly too close for comfort and knew something was up. He slowly backed up and gobbled his way to the swamp, out of view. I tried to re-position several times, but he was having none of it.

Lesson Learned – The tom knew trouble immediately. One, we were too close to where he roosted. He probably - I use “probably” since I don’t have a great grasp on any turkey’s deep thoughts and feelings - watched up set up, get adjusted, etc. Two, he and the other birds in the area had probably been following the same ritual every morning for a month. He may have been a talkative bird, but not a stupid one. To him, something’s wrong when he heard hens clucking at the base of the tree at first light. Three, me flipping my head around surely sealed the deal. He played cautious anyhow, circling us, but that movement no doubt iced the cake.

In hindsight, I could have set up on some trees by the palmettos within in shotgun range and been fine, but I wanted him to land in my lap. That mentality ignited every red flare in that bird’s consciousness. I guess the big lesson here is not to interfere with their habits. Stay just on the edge and out of their microscope.

1. The Big One

This incident still hurts, and it’s been 6 or 7 years by now. I’d set up in an oak hammock humbly named, “Ian’s Island.” A shallow creek separated it from the larger hammock, and I’d convinced myself it was the Promised Land.

Well, my dad hunted the big hammock, and I went to mine. After a quick sprinkle that refreshed the morning, a gobbler sounded off. Really, it bellowed – shook the raindrops off the leaves. Dad and I were at least 200 yards apart with the gobbler perched in the middle.

As luck would have it, the bird came my way, approaching from behind – seems all these stories sound the same – but separated from my ambush by the creek.

Now, we’ve all heard gobblers won’t cross fences, creeks, etc. The tom hadn’t read that. I had him gobbling and on a rope, but convinced myself he’d never cross that creek. Since I thought him to be the dominant male in the area, I pulled out my box call to gobble at him, hoping in desperation to challenge him across the water.

As it turned out, there was no need for this. I went to strike a gobble at him just as he showed up off my right shoulder. He was a big boy. And when he saw me hit the paddle and a half-gobble, half-car wreck noise wobbled out of the box, he hit the brakes and reversed course.

I tried to scoot over to get a desperation shot, but my vest has one of those fold-down seats that prevented me from standing or moving quickly. He ran straight through that creek and put it in the wind.

I shook my head all the way to the truck right up until now as I painfully recall this.

Lesson Learned – If a bird is coming to you, let him come. Don’t get too fancy. They won’t cross creeks? At least give him a chance to try. I’ve killed multiple birds that ducked under barbed wire which allegedly they won’t do either.

I swear the mortality rate of gobblers would be infinitely higher if hunters didn’t screw around so much. Call only as much needed to grab and hold his attention – if even that. I can almost guarantee a push-button call and 15 minutes worth of patience has laid more toms low than hurry and some “Screaming Eagle” metallic, marketing scheme of a call has.

Look, you will probably mess up one day. It happens. These birds are sharp which makes hunting them such an exciting challenge. Just try and avoid making them look any smarter than they already are!

Scouting Chassahowitzka for Spring Turkey II - First Contact

Part I

My initial three thoughts as I drove around Chassahowitzka WMA Sunday afternoon:

1. Lord, this place is thick – The eastern third of the property, Zone C – the only part you can drive a truck on – is a combination of palmetto flats, scrubs oaks and huge pine stands with choked up cypress bottoms. My eagerness for crawling through this mess in the wee morning hours is decidedly low, and I didn’t see much acreage that would rile up any enthusiasm either. The few open spots had recently been burned; in fact, it looked damn near nuked and very unturkey-ish.

2. There are a ton of people riding around here on a random Sunday – Apparently Chazz is no big secret. I’ve seen fewer vehicles on weekends on the Polk Parkway during Snow Bird Season. Most of the people were bikers with a few Git-R-Dones wheeling muddy Fords amongst the crowd. On the very south end of the South Road was a pile of clothes someone had dumped under a scrub oak. Classy.

3. Where are the animals? – Part of this answer can be described by my preceding observation. Chassahowitzka allows quite a few hunters in during general gun season. Some folks run dogs for deer, and the previous two weekends hosted hog dog seasons. At this point I’m sure most of the fuzzy creatures had developed post-traumatic stress disorder and the sound of a vehicle causes them a nervous tic as they go hole up in those impenetrable bottoms. Still, I saw very, very few fresh tracks – none of them were turkey.

Having said these things, there is still an incredible amount of ignorance on my behalf. I only covered that third of the property that allows motorized vehicles. The western third (Zone A) is accessible only by boat or long hike. The middle third (Zone B) – the area with the majority of the game, I’d think – I need to reach by one of the numerous fire breaks, but that’s for another day.

I did notice some nice spots in Zone C. At the very least they are aesthetically pleasing. The area around Fool’s Stand Road has potential. If this were private land I’d set up where 3 Bridge Road and Rattlesnake Camp Road intersect - beautiful roost pines down in the swamps and it’s fairly open. Again if it were private, I’d set my decoys right in the middle of the road and probably do alright.

I figure ten people drew a tag for this weekend. Seven to eight will actually show. More than half have probably taken my lazy strategy of scouting, if that. So in these two spots I can probably count on at least one other hunter being close by.

What really surprised me about this land was its topography. It is downright hilly in a place I assumed would be flat as a board. In theory, you could get to some of the high points and listen for a gobbler in the morning. How you’d make a stealthy approach through all the underbrush without spooking anything is the curly Q, though.

One other thought kept haunting me after getting a sense of the land. There’s a reason only ten tags were issued for this 33,919 acres. Most of Zone C is not ideal turkey habitat. Sure, some would wander through during the day, but it is thicker woods than most turkey enjoy. These are probably Swamp Birds which really means I need to hoof it down into Zone B before my weekend arrives.

This is just a first impression, however. I got only a small feel for the land and at least a backup plan or two for when the hunt comes.

No doubt there are some gobblers around, and it’s my chance to bust one on a quota permit this year. I’m going to take advantage.

If anyone has any suggestions for me or others who may draw here in the future, feel free to comment below!