The Benefits of Fall Scouting During Spring Turkey Hunts

The spring sun rapidly melted snow from the south-facing slope. New shoots of lush green were everywhere, and through my optics, I could see insects hovering above the golf-course-looking mountainside.

Minutes later, just above the snowline, a boisterous tom appeared with his ladies. The birds went to work on the green grass and the insects. As I watched the birds feed across the slope, numerous elk started to appear. Like the birds, the elk wanted the newly sprouted protein-rich mountain grasses.

After the birds moved out of sight, I made my move. Dropping in elevation, I worked into a tight, timbered drainage. Walking, I couldn't help but pay attention to the elk sign. It was everywhere. Elk trails wound this way and that, and droppings—old and new—littered the ground.

I discovered numerous pines blazed by bulls and a creek at the bottom of the drainage.

Multitasking

Yes, I was turkey hunting, and I needed to get a move on so I could hook around and get in front of the feeding flock, but I couldn't help myself. I stopped at the creek and pulled an aerial map image on my HuntStand app. I marked the creek and dropped some pins on the north-facing slope I'd just come down.

Working up the opposite side of the drainage, I found more elk sign. There were loads of rubs and beds. I discovered a small, boggy, secluded mountain meadow when I topped out. The grass in the meadow was beaten down, and as I worked across it, I found six areas where rutting bulls had opened wallows. One of the wallows was massive. Once again, I stopped and plugged all the newly gleaned information into my app.

Back to the Birds

When I relocated the group, I was 5.43 miles from the trailhead. There wasn't another turkey hunter anywhere near me, and a smile spread across my face as I watched three of the four hens walk away from the tom.

The longbeard did his best to keep lady number four. He gobbled, blew up into a strut, and let his ebony feathers shimmer in the mid-day sun. The hen wanted none of it, and after a half-hour of trying to impress, the tom left her to scratch the ground for insects and seeds.

The longbeard was 398 yards away but working back in my direction. I moved 90 yards up the hill and got my back to a large ponderosa. The sun was high overhead, but the canopy cast plenty of shadows.

With my spot found, I walked a bit further out on the ridge and made a call. The tom thundered back. Quickly, I scurried the 30 yards back to my hide.

Triangulate

I knew the bird heard the call and had my location pinpointed. The spot I called from required the bird to drop down a slight slope and come up the opposite side. I would have a clear shot once he hit the area I called from.

I spied his stone-white head as it telescoped up over the rise. The setup was perfect. The tom couldn't hang up and scan the landscape ahead for a hen. He couldn't see where the hen was without exposing himself in shotgun range. I look for setups like this all the time.

The tom stopped and scanned for a moment, then blew up into strut and walked to my bootprints. A load of HEVI-18 TSS #9 shot anchored him quickly.

When I walked up on my springtime prize, I glanced off the ridge, looking down at a pine-sprinkled south-facing slope. Immediately, I saw an elk shed. Lifting my binos, I quickly glassed up two more.

Not Time to Leave

With my bird bagged, I had no intention of heading for home. I had my Alps Mountaineering Helix 2-Person tent, and after sitting down and enjoying a Mountain House, I once again pulled up an aerial image of the area.

I looked over my newly added waypoints and re-read the notes I'd made. Then, looking at the map, I started looking for more elk-y areas.

The next day, I visited three different glassing locations, which allowed me to see many elk-rich landscapes. I pinned each of the glassing points.

I was interested in a saddle between a pair of peaks. The trail in the saddle looked like a hiking trail, and upon further inspection, I discovered it was dotted with elk tracks. Old and new droppings were everywhere. Following the trail, I wandered through a tangle of thick pines. The air was cool, and the timber was dark. Stained with gallons of elk urine, the damp ground held a strong musk. Trees were shredded, and big, heavy beds were everywhere.

Discovery

The dark, timbered slope led to another creek and a small, isolated meadow. I'd hit elk paydirt: a funnel between two peaks I could glass easily, leading to heavy bedding cover close to food and water.

I pulled out my digital hunting app and entered more data. By the end of the four-day turkey hunt, I'd bagged a white-tipped Merriam and mapped out my fall archery elk hunt.

On the hunt's third morning that fall, I arrowed a magnificent Colorado public land bull in an OTC unit. I never saw another hunter, but I did see a flock of fall turkeys that will be in trouble come spring.

Final Thoughts

The West is vast and loaded with more turkeys than turkey hunters. This spring, load up the 4x4 and hit the blacktop for some hard-gobbling Merriam birds. While chasing spring gobbles, keep an eye peeled for elk sign. If you do, chances are good you'll find a fall hotspot you can return to in September.

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