Mississippi Humbling

“Why didn’t I turn on my ThermaCELL as soon as I sat down?” I asked myself. “A stupid mosquito is going to ruin my hunt.” Resolved not let that happen, I blinked several times and blew air up into my face until the insect finally flew away. Relieved to be free of the agitator, I inched toward the safety of my gun and waited for the turkey to move closer. “This is it,” I thought to myself again. “I’m going to kill this bird right off the roost on the first morning and have the remainder of the hunt to rest, take pictures and just goof off.”

I must be honest, the idea of relaxing sounded great. With four small kids at home, free time is a rare commodity. Actually, any kid-free time comes few and far between, so to say that I was ready for my turkey hunt with Lifetime Hunts near Macon, Mississippi, is an understatement. It’d been two years since I’d hunted turkeys. I’d had a high-risk pregnancy followed by the birth of healthy twin girls. With two young boys at home as well, getting out of the house, much less into the woods, is a major undertaking requiring a lot of planning.

So when Karen Davis, editor of the NWTF’s Turkey Country magazine, pulled up to the house, the kids were at their grandparents and I was waiting at the door with my bags. As I walked onto my front porch on the way to the car, I was stunned to see pollen blowing by in waves, covering everything in a fine yellow dust. Little did I know that the pollen would play a major role in the following morning’s hunt.

We headed west from Birmingham with Deaf Leopard playing in the background. We only took two wrong turns (which is a record for us) before pulling down the long dirt drive that led to the lodge on the Brookson Plantation. Photographer Tes Jolly and freelance writer Mike Lambeth were sitting on the porch awaiting our arrival. After greeting the other hunters and unloading our bags, we hopped onto the two awaiting Club Cars and took off to do a little exploring.

Live Oaks and River Bottoms

After reading about the plantation’s rich history, I was looking forward to seeing more of the property where the legendary “Treaty of Dancing Rabbit Creek” was signed in 1830. This was the largest of the great Choctaw cessions and provided land for what is now one-third of the state of Mississippi. Twelve miles of the Noxubee River meander through the plantation, twisting and turning through its numerous hardwood bottoms and creeks. “Bugs Ferry Road,” thought to be the second-oldest road in the state behind the Natchez Trace Parkway, splits the plantation in half east to west.

Terry Knight, manager of Lifetime Hunts, told us the outfit had access to 9,200 acres for hunting. He said the plantation is best known for its great deer hunting and boasts the highest-scoring typical whitetail in Mississippi—a 182 7/8 monster. But the turkey hunting is nothing to laugh at either as birds are abundant and relatively unpressured by hunters.

As we continued to talk, we drove past vast agricultural fields, ponds and swampy bottoms onto one of the oldest bridges in the state. We hung out for a while on the bridge looking down at the muddy water, taking pictures and making fun of Mike Lambeth, who’d fallen flat on his face when hunting earlier that morning. That night after a great dinner, we went to bed early so we’d be well rested for the next morning’s hunt.

Perfect Storm of Poor Planning

We woke bright and early the following morning. The first problem I noticed was when I pulled on my snake boots. I have two pairs of snake boots, one of which is comfortable enough that I can wear them all day. But I’d left them at home and brought the other pair. They create instant blisters on my ankles and heels. I knew I was in trouble as we’d be walking a lot, but with little time to spare before daylight, I tied up the laces and headed out into the swampy Mississippi woods. And that brings us to the outset of the story.

Right off the bat, my guide, Josh Hamilton, located the bird on the roost. Aside from the aforementioned mosquito, the morning was shaping up to produce an easy textbook hunt. But when I felt a tickle in the back of my throat, I knew I was in trouble. The image of the rolling cloud of pollen came to mind. I have seasonal asthma, but declined to take any type of medicine that morning because up to that point, I hadn’t experienced any problems. But the tickle turned to a scratch, which turned to a cough that I couldn’t thwart. I tried to muffle the cough into my jacket to no avail. I began to hack and cough loudly, sort of like a dog choking on a bone. Despite poor Josh’s attempts at using his calls to cover the racket I made, the gobbler hightailed it out of there. After the bird left, Josh walked over to me with a befuddled look on his face. “Are you OK?” he asked. “You sounded like you were dying over here.”

I was so embarrassed and frustrated with myself knowing that my lack of planning had cost me the bird. My eyes watered and I continued to sneeze, wheeze and cough, but we pressed on in search of another gobbler. As we walked and called in an attempt to find a different tom, the skin on my ankles began to burn as the snake boots rubbed them raw, so much so that I actually started to limp. I was dead set on locating another gobbler, but with sore ankles and a bruised ego, I was feeling a little down and out. It was a long morning of walking (limping in my case) and calling, but to no avail.

Close Encounter of the Tusked Kind

We returned to the same roost location that evening for another go at a bird. We sat and waited. With no gobblers responding to our calls, our hopes were growing dim with the light. Just before dark, I heard some rustling behind me. Hoping that a gobbler was approaching, I slowly turned my head to the right only to see a large black boar coming my way. Now, I know pigs typically don’t charge unless provoked or startled, but I also know of a couple hunters who’ve been gored by pigs, so the boar’s presence made me a little nervous. He rustled around in the leaves as he continued to move closer. Then at about 25 yards away, he stopped and stared directly at us. I shifted my eyes to the surrounding trees looking for one I could climb, but it appeared to me that not one single limb would be within reach should I need to seek refuge among the treetops. Then, catching a whiff of our scent, the boar scurried off, leaving us unscathed and a little more aware of our surroundings. We waited until dark and left the woods as the owls began to call to one another.

Turkeys in Transition

The following days were tough as the first. The birds clammed up and refused to respond to any calls. We’d hear them gobble on the roost at time or two, but that was it. Josh explained to me that the birds were in transition, which makes them extremely hard to hunt. He said the hens were looking for places to nest and the gobblers were just following the gals around. With the birds refusing to respond to our calls, the best we could do was set up in an area frequented by turkeys and hope to ambush them.

Not one hunter killed a bird during the trip, although we saw many, mostly at a distance. As the last day’s hunt came to an end, I had to acknowledge the fact that I screwed up the only opportunity any of us would have at a bird the entire hunt because of my lack of preparation.

I was reminded again that when turkey hunting you can leave nothing to chance. I’d failed to turn on my ThermaCELL, assuming the bugs wouldn’t be that bad; I’d packed the wrong and extremely painful pair of boots, which put a damper on my hunt; and I’d assumed that the pollen wouldn’t bother me even though I knew better. So, it goes without saying that I learned a lesson or two on that hunt—leave nothing to chance and prepare for the worst. I’ll do better next time.

Contact: Lifetime Hunts, www.lifetimehunts.com

Sidebar:

Late-Season Southern Toms

As my guide Josh Hamilton explained, turkey hunting often improves late in the season in Mississippi. “From approximately April 10 until the end of the season, the gobblers become easier to pattern and are much more receptive to calls,” Hamilton said. “If you can locate a gobbler’s strut zone, you’ll have a good chance at getting a bird. The hens are on their nests and the gobblers are desperate for love.”

Hamilton explained that the toms gobble longer throughout the day so they are easier to locate. Running and gunning and using plenty of aggressive yelps and cuts will often cause a hot gobbler to reveal his position before the end of the day. But Hamilton still prefers to finish things early in the morning if possible.

“For your best chance at getting a tom, get as close to the bird as you can before he leaves the roost. They’re gobbling earlier, so you can move in on him in the darkness. The forest land in this area is open and turkeys can see at least 200 yards away, so be sure to remain as still and camouflaged as possible once you’ve set up. You’ll have a tough time sneaking up on a bird in the daylight in this part of the country.”

He said another thing you must remember when hunting soggy river bottom areas such as this is that the birds are used to the water, and you won’t always find them on higher dry land.

“The toms actually seem to prefer the soupy, wet ground,” Hamilton said. “They behave differently than people who have never hunted such a wet environment would assume. I’ve seen them fly off the roost and skip over the dry areas to land in the water on several occasions.”