The Lowdown Scouting

I'll never forget the two guys who came up to me following a presentation that my wife, Julie, and I had given in western Washington several years ago. Turkey hunting was just starting to gather steam in the Evergreen State in the early 1990s, and our seminars covering the nuances of the sport were being met with full houses and eager, receptive up-and-comers.

After wrapping up one evening, these fellows came up to the podium. They were obviously excited and grinning broadly.

"We started turkey hunting last spring," said the one, apparently the spokesman for the duo. His partner, still smiling from ear to ear, was shaking his head in confirmation.

"And we did our scouting. Every weekend, both days," the first continued. "We'd get the birds to gobble. Hell, we'd get 'em right up to the truck before they ran away. Jakes, longbeards, hens--you name it. We walked all our hunting spots a bunch a' times before season started. Always saw birds, and we'd always get 'em to talk back to us. Even called a few in, and Floyd here got some great pictures of a couple gobblers."

"Well," I asked, expecting the obvious, "you all have some pictures of the birds you tagged off these parcels?"

Silence. "That's just it, M.D." said Floyd, finally finding his voice. "We haven't killed one yet. By the time season rolls around, there aren't many birds left on the places we have permission to hunt. We hear 'em on the neighbors, but they don't answer us on the ground we can hunt. Hell, they seem downright skittish, even on opening day."

Julie handed me a bottle of water and said, "I'll meet you downstairs at the booth. You're going to be here a while."

That story is true, and we've heard similar tales from coast to coast over the past decade, and they're not always from new or relatively new turkey hunters. "The birds are henned up," the man in Iowa says. "They're just being quiet," complains the guy in Kentucky. Or my favorite, "They're all gone," laments the poor soul in Ohio or Pennsylvania or wherever.

If this is you, the man responsible for your lackluster turkey hunting might just be the same guy who stares back at you when you're shaving. And it all has to do with scouting or, more precisely, your scouting techniques.

The key to successful turkey scouting is this: You want to gather all the information you need to be successful without, to use the prize fighter's vernacular, telegraphing your punch. You want to scout for opening day without creating a situation where opening day and the human-related changes it brings to the wild arrive a month or more before the actual opener. Put simply, you want opening day--say, April 15--to arrive for that longbeard you have scouted just as his day dawned on April 14 or 13, or March 24.

It's called low-impact scouting, or as some would call it, long-distance scouting. I prefer low-impact because not all productive scouting ventures are done at what we'd normally consider long distances. Whatever you call it, if you put the same passion, dedication, enthusiasm and caution into your scouting as you do your hunting, you will immediately be more successful.

One of the initial forays into low-impact scouting takes place where no gobbler will ever be spooked by your presence--in the comfort of your own home. We're going to assume that you already have permission to hunt a piece of private ground or have a wildlife management area or section of state forest in mind for opening day.