To the Oriental Yeti or Whatever

This is one of those terribly disappointing headlines found so often on the Web designed to get you to click on it - which is why I incorporated it in the title of this post! I was hoping to read a story of some snarling, ape-man caught in a leg trap fighting back a pack of baying hounds. Or at least a hairy, drunkenly-passed out peasant man. I guess the search continues.


I'm not entirely sure who would willingly handle this flea-bitten animal. In the last few years - especially as coyotes' ranges expand - hunters in the U.S. are finding similar creatures. Hairless, yo-momma-know-yo-ugly grotesque critters. They get cool names like "chupacabra." I think the Chinese could have come up with something as marketable. A yeti, this thing is not.

Anyway, it is kind of interesting

Mysterious 'Oriental Yeti' Trapped in China

Gear for the Tuesday Morning Jake

I know many of you have waited - breathlessly, in some cases - for me to divulge my list of equipment I used to bring that monster jake to bag last week. Well, wait no more!

If you recall, I performed limited calling and primarily used a slate. Specifically, my call of choice was a Quaker Boy Triple Threat. It may seem a little gimmicky, but I've long been a fan of those metallic surfaces for their high frequency and resistance to damp weather. It takes a while to properly prepare the surface and to find that "sweet spot," but if the birds are quiet and I'm trying to strike up a gobble, I find it gathers the most attention. On this last hunt, I struck the pot with a H.S. Strut Magic Wand with a carbon fiber tip for that extra resonance.

When a bird is in view, though, playing a slate is a gamble I'm not willing to play. Usually, I'll let the tom close the distance on his own. If he needs a little extra coaxing - as the tom did last Tuesday - a mouth call is the proper tool.

Mouth calls are intimidating to plenty of hunters. And for a number of hunters I've heard try them, they should be! In the future, I may approach the lectern and instruct the nuances of the single, double, and triple reeds, but not today. To yank that jake to the decoys last week, my call of choice was a raspy triple reed, a Primos Many Beards. I like this call - and triple reeds in general - for their versatility and raspy sound. Moreover, this call makes excellent purrs and other small noises that mimics content, feeding, and otherwise come-hither hens.

Which brings us to decoys. I usually carry up to six decoys, which is a lot, but I may set up in a spot where birds can come from multiple directions. Other times, I just like setting up that many. Regardless of manufacturer, all of them are light-weight collapsible foam, and I deploy at least one "feeding" model with two "stand-up" versions.

The coup de grace is, of course, the shotgun and ammo. I've used Winchester Supremes for years now with great confidence. They pattern well and hit like bricks. I vacillated between 4's and 6's for a couple years before meeting in the middle and settling on the 12 gauge, 3 1/2 inch magnums with 2 oz. of 5 shot offering. Combined with my Mossberg 835, it's a potent load on the gobbler and the shoulder.

Finally, the gun. I've hunted with that 835 for, oh, 7-8 years now, and it's done it's work when I've done mine. My one complaint is the fiber optic sights. The rear sight is much too loose, even pivoting a cool 35 degrees with no real way of tightening it down. I don't care for this, especially after missing that jake with the first shot. It's my fault because I hadn't patterned it before taking it to the woods. But, without sounding too braggadocios, something is amiss when I whiff a bird. I'm heading out Thursday to do the paperwork, and if it turns out the miss was the result of the shakes, I doubt you'll hear anymore about it. I suspect, though, this wasn't the case, and you can expect a post on patterning your gun sometime soon.

The shotgun itself is a delight for Florida hunting. A short barrel makes it portable in the swamps. The porting on the barrel eases the burden of those heavy loads. And when it's tuned in, the turkey choke causes the shot to fist-punch through the paper at 30 yards. It's even impressive farther out.

So there you go, my list of gear for that hunt. Odds are I'll switch everything up on coming hunts depending on where I go. Turkey hunters tend to have a ton of gear, and I doubt I've employed the same combination of calls and set-ups twice in a row. So, take this for what it's worth. At the very least, it may work busting a jake!

TWL Classics - Dad's Green Swamp Gobbler

Two years ago I started my volunteer outdoor writing service through a local newspaper's public blogging site. Unfortunately, through powers beyond my control, my archives from that source are gone and lost forever. Luckily, I saved rough drafts of this work on my computer, and once or twice a week I'll re-introduce a past column back into the wild of the World Wide Web. Enjoy!

Originally Published April 2009

A blind hog finds an acorn.

When the call came Saturday morning, I was still in bed, my own turkey hunting plans scrapped for the weekend. When your Spring Season revolves around invitations to private lands, hopes can be quickly scattered. And sometimes I’m just too lazy, too negative, or too spoiled to take matters in my own hands.

Dad’s tom came from the Green Swamp WMA. The gobbler itself won’t make any registries – 9-inch beard, 1 ½ spurs, around 17 lbs. – but it was a true trophy as far as I’m concerned.

Not that I don’t realize there are plenty of birds on this property; as I said above, I guess I’m too lazy, too negative, and too spoiled. I’ve never been able to perform the mathematics that would equate me having a decent opportunity to shoot a bird on this public land. An overabundance of novice hunters interfering with your hunt. An immense amount of acreage to scout properly. Whine and whine. Yet, Dad, helming his much-maligned, Jed Clampett-autographed 1986 Diesel Suburban, rolls out of the gate with a gobbler of his own after only a handful of scouting ventures.

Lucky SOB.

Dad’s first set-up didn’t do much, hearing nothing to convince him birds were in the area. So, he picked up and moved to an alternate location, noting only one other vehicle along the way. He posted up in some tall trees near a burned palmetto flat and began calling on his Gaskins. The bird never gobbled he told me, just made a couple sharp clucks as he emerged from the flat.



Man, this lined up perfectly - didn’t spook anything walking about, found a location away from other hunters and sat still as a silent bird sneaked in to his calls.

The tom entered Dad’s clearing too far for a shot with his Mossberg 500 and its 3-inch loads; he could have toted my 835, its 3 ½ mag chambering and the extra reach, but he’d forgot about it. As the gobbler closed in, he took notice of the inflatable Sceery jake decoy and beelined it towards the fake at such an angle that a pine completely obstructed a shot. Dad could hear, but not see his tom spurring his decoy to death.

How did the sound of that popping decoy snapping off its peg not spook the bird? That bird would have been chop suey early with my 835. Amazing.

The tom, startled by his deflated opponent but not so much to flip on the afterburners, turned back towards the palmetto flat, still partially shielded by the pine. Dad leaned over and fired a round, rolling, but not completely terminating the gobbler. The bird hopped up and went airborne, flying parallel to Dad who wingshot the tom before he could escape.

I don’t have the words to describe how fortunate this is.

After the initial phone call, I called back at least twice more, wondering if I were suspended in some breed of dream I’d previously not dreamt. I told Dad I’d meet him at the house with the camera, knowing full well I’d be catching crap for this ad infinitum, especially since I’d poo-pooed his initial efforts and scouting trips. Forlorn over plans I couldn’t control, I’d slept in, forgoing a day in the woods pursuing that which I routinely proclaim to be my favorite game of all, this Expert-In-My-Own-Mind.

I’d like to tell you that it’s better to be lucky than good, but I know this old adage is probably more appropriate:

“Luck has a peculiar habit of favoring those who don’t depend on it.”

FL Wild Hog Quota Application

For you fellow fun-seekers out there, just wanted to post a reminder that today is the first day you can apply for quota hunts to chase the ol' wild piggie on public land. The application period runs until April 12th. The applications and hunts are free. Those of you who enjoy running dogs, there are some options for you as well.

Check here for more information. Oink oink!

Using Bump Feeders

From out of the December morning fog, a healthy boar walked nose-up down the soggy jeep trail, tail a-swishing. The .300 put an end to that. Ten minutes later, a flock of hens lingered by the feeder picking corn kernels out of the holes punched in the old oil drum. They were interrupted by a cow that beat the can around like a plaything, knocking some of that yellow gold on the ground. That’s fast company.

I like bump feeders, much more so than motorized versions. Not that the spinners aren’t effective; if you put corn on the ground, something is going to chow down in no time. No, I like the bumpers for convenience and economy.



A bump feeder can be constructed out of just about anything that’ll hold corn and not made of paper or burlap. My current model is a huge, bright blue barrel that at one time, according to the man who gave it to me, held water from the Red Sea for some sort of phosphate experiment. I don’t know. It hangs on our lease, and yesterday I put 150 lbs of whole corn in it. I’m somewhat concerned the hogs will break their noses hitting this heavy contraption. Anyway, Dad, for some reason, had a metal hoist in his garage we used to suspend the rig, and we drilled holes in four spots around the bottom. It lords over that corner of the property and has become a popular buffet spot for the local swine and turk-a-lurks.

Drilling the holes can be tricky. You want a few kernels to spout out, but you don’t want them gushing like a winning slot machine. Turkey should be able to peck corn out easily, and the hogs and deer can get enough to keep them curious and coming back for more. If you kick it with your boot and 6-8 kernels hit the ground, you’ve done well.



This can be frustrating to the uninitiated who are used to a substantial dusting of yellow grain scattered across the forest floor at dawn and dusk. I felt the same way the first time I saw one. The cattle rancher maintained a couple on a section of land in Manatee County I hunted several years ago. Being young, I wanted more. He shook his head at my impertinence and for good reason, I soon learned. He had one placed by camp, and there’d always be deer hanging out, even when we had a campfire blazing as we whooped and hollered. And two of the largest hogs I’ve seen harvested in Florida came from nearby.

I don’t have any statistical corn-eaten-by-game to corn-eaten-by-vermin ratio available, but I soon became convinced more corn went into the gullets of deer, turkeys, and hogs than to squirrels, crows, and raccoons. Anything eating off of these had to work for it; hung high enough, even the crafty raccoons had difficulty thieving the feeder. Hung even higher, it became off-limits to all but the tallest hogs. So, you save some money on corn ensuring your designated targets are feeding and not the local vermin.

Over the years, I’ve used different variations of the bump feeder. A long time back when I was more creative, I employed a green 5-gallon bucket fitted with a foot of 2-inch PVC hanging down so the deer could reach up and get it, but the turkey and hogs were left wanting. I once hung an old metal trash can with one slot cut into it that resulted in a couple dead does.



The ease of use is the final advantage. No more changing batteries or solar panels to keep them charged. It’s not liable to break or be ruined by weather or gnawing rodents. If someone steals it, you’re out materials and cost of labor.

Feeders are excellent tools in Florida and throughout the thick, swampy South. For hog management, it’s the berries. And harvesting a hog that’s been noshing on corn for a while translates heartily at the dinner table. I’ve never shot a buck of any size over corn, but for does it’s a fine management instrument and for filling the freezer. If you hunt land that allows baiting, do consider the bumpers.

Be careful, though. Feeders become popular spots for all predators, human and animal alike. Travis called me today to say a 7-8 ft. gator was hanging out under my bump feeder awaiting the inevitable troop of swine or raccoons. Or maybe my right leg if I'm not paying attention. Maybe he’ll hang out until August when gator season is underway. That’d be a heckuva story!