Missed Opportunity

By: Josh Christensen

Have you ever had a moment in life where you wish you could go back and change it? Maybe you look back and wish you would have decided to play a different sport in high school, or go out for the high school play. Maybe you wish you could go back and buy a different car or put money in a different investment. Maybe you wish you could go back and do a different career. This story is an example of one of those instances where I wish I could get a moment back. When the opportunity came knocking, I unfortunately wasn’t able to answer. This is the story of my almost Gould's turkey.

As many of you may know from several of my previous articles, I have begun to try to get the turkey slam. Not only the grand slam but the world slam. The next turkey hunt on my list was to travel to northwestern Mexico and attempt to collect a Gould's. What started off as the easiest turkey hunt I've ever been on quickly turned into the hardest.

On May 4th I departed the Grand Rapids airport en route to Tucson Arizona. Once in Tucson I was picked up from my hotel on the 5th by my outfitter and we made the six-hour drive to a cattle ranch in Mexico. The last hour and a half of this drive was on dirt roads. To say we were off the grid would be an understatement!

Once we arrived at the camp house (the hacienda) we unloaded our gear and began to prepare for our hunt. There would be three hunters in camp; myself, Jack and Robert both from North Carolina. The three of us rode together to the ranch so we got to know each other along the way.

The temperatures forecasted for the four days we would be there were not good for any type of hunting, with highs in the mid-90's during the day and lows in the upper-60's at night.

Around 3:30 that afternoon the four of us, Jack, Robert, myself and our guide Kirk jumped in the camp vehicle, a 1998 Jeep Grand Cherokee, and followed the owner of the ranch, Mario, to the top of the mountain on his property.

The ranch we were hunting was 16,000 acres of land with mountains, canyons and dried out river bottoms throughout. This part of Mexico is very dry with many different kinds of desert vegetation. The places we planned to hunt, where the turkeys historically were located, were high up on the mountain between 4,000 and 5,700 feet.

As we started our ascent up the mountain the temperatures were stifling! Over 90 degrees, but "it's a dry heat" they say. I still argue 90 is hot no matter what the humidity level, not to mention the added elevation which can also dehydrate a person and make climbs more difficult.

Not only can the heat affect animals, but it can also affect vehicles and that is exactly what happened with our camp vehicle. About a third of the way up the mountain the Jeep stalled out and wouldn't start back up. It had overheated and we were at quite an angle on one of the many switch backs to the top. This road to the top was one you wouldn't tell your mother about, with many places having a sheer cliff into a deep canyon on one side and a rock face on the other.

The Jeep just so happened to stall out at one of these spots, although we did have about ten feet until the steep drop into the canyon. The four of us looked under the hood of the Grand Cherokee and waited for Mario to find a place to turn around and come back to help us out. Our assessment of the vehicle was it needed coolant and had overheated.

Mario was a character of his own. This 74-year-old man had to be the happiest person I have ever met. From the time he woke up in the morning to the time he went to bed he was either humming or laughing. Not only was he always happy he was one heck of a cook! The authentic Mexican food we had was unbelievable.

Once Mario found the turn around and came back down the mountain towards us he got out of his "well worn" Ford King Ranch, just a smiling and humming. At this point I was thinking, "How in the heck are we getting out of here?" The vehicles were on a 30-degree slope, nose to nose and there was no way the truck could get around the Jeep.

Mario started to look the Jeep over and jumped right into the driver’s seat and placed the Jeep in neutral to allow the vehicle to roll down the hill to the next switch back about 50 yards from its current location where it could be over far enough to get the truck around it. We cautioned Mario that without power the breaks wouldn't work properly and he would need to use the emergency break. To this he replied with a soft laugh, a smile and an "Okay."

As he rolled down the hill he was humming along while we tried to help direct him to the new resting place for the Jeep. Once the Jeep was out of the way we all piled into the truck, went down the road until we found a place to do a 17-point turn and headed back up the mountain.

At 4,200 feet we stopped at a fork in the road and went to scout a place known as Los Pinos. This was an area with a large flat pasture and many pines the turkeys would use as roosting trees. We were all together for this and just getting the lay on the land. Jack and Robert were more experienced turkey hunters and were planning to go off on their own once they got an understanding of the property.

We called a few times, but didn't get any answers. When looking the area over we found lots of sign, so we figured one person would be dropped off there in the morning. Next, we went to the top of the mountain. At 5,600 feet there was an area known as the pond in a canyon on the south side of the ridge.

The four of us left Mario and the truck to investigate around the pond. It was about a half mile of walking down a rocky two-track to the bottom, where we took a well-worn cattle trail to the water. When we got there two ducks flew from the surface of the pond and several cattle sauntered off.

On the way down into the canyon and at the bottom we called several times, but got no response. Once at the bottom we started our way up the north face of the mountain. We made it up about 200 yards before stopping for a few minutes and calling. This is where Jack and Robert were going to peel off and work this canyon bottom before heading back to the truck. Kirk and I were going to head north straight out of canyon to the ridge line and call into the next canyon over.

Kirk and Jack talked about where Kirk and I were headed and what we would be doing and Jack told Kirk his plan for a route back to the truck. Jack and Robert planned to stay in the canyon for a while, then go northeast back to the truck.

We said our good lucks and Kirk and I were off up the canyon wall. Although it was fairly steep we made it up to the ridge rather quickly. Once at the top, we called a little. With no response we headed west along the road on the ridge and called from different locations. As a novice turkey hunter still trying to learn the ins and outs I was grateful that Kirk gave me insight as to what we were doing and why. Something I learned that makes total sense but I never thought about was every time before Kirk would call he would scan the area to be sure there was a good spot within a few steps to set up before he called.

After traveling down the road to the west about a quarter of a mile we turned around and went back to the east to an area that looked good to stop and sit for a while to allow it to get a little cooler.

When we found a decent shaded area Kirk called. There was no response, so we started quietly talking about the plans for the next few days. Five minutes into our conversation we decided we might as well sit on a fallen log nearby. Once Kirk sat down I thought I heard a faint gobble off in the distance. When I told Kirk, he said he hadn't heard it, so I thought it was just my brain wishing to hear a bird.

I sat down next to Kirk and he asked to see my shotgun. I handed it over to him and about thirty seconds later we both definitely heard a gobble from the direction I thought I heard one before I sat. Kirk quickly handed my shotgun back to me and had me sit at the base of a tree while he sat at a tree behind me. From there he called and almost immediately the bird called back. The hunt was on!

About five minutes later Kirk called again and the bird once again sounded off closer. Then we heard a hen call from down the ridge a bit and Kirk immediately thought it was Robert and Jack. The next time Kirk called the bird answered but he was further to our west so we quickly got up and advanced toward the bird setting up near the two-track on the road.

With our next call the bird answered again, but then another hen call came in. Kirk was sure the hen was the other two hunters. As we waited, there was silence. Then around 70 yards away through the vegetation I saw the top of a fan move from my right to my left.

Then I heard another hen call from down on the other side of the bird. Just as we were about to get up and advance toward the bird I saw the bird trotting up the two track in our direction. He was moving up hill and as I tried to get set up on him I had a small green bush obstructing my view of the bird. At about 20 yards the bird turned and started heading from in front of me to my right.

As I looked through my truglo sight I found it difficult to see with a glare in the sight due to the setting sun, I was facing west. This had never happened to me before and I began to get even more nervous than I usually do when hunting. As the bird moved further behind some scrub trees I was able to swing the shotgun to a spot the sun wasn't glaring through the reticle. Just as I was about to pull the trigger I heard Kirk telling me to make sure it was a tom. At this, I pulled my attention from the shot to make sure the bird had a beard. When I could clearly see a beard I quickly pulled the trigger, shooting right over the top of the bird and missing my opportunity at the fine animal.

After missing we did find out the other hen was Robert and the reason the bird stopped answering and strutting was because he saw Jack, who didn't know the bird was there, walking toward Robert. When the bird saw Jack he beat feat up the two-track towards us.

Kirk and I hunted that area for two more days, hearing the tom gobble from down in the canyon, but he never came to our calls again. We even snuck down into the canyon one morning and had a good set up about 175 yards from his roosting tree, but when he flew down he went away from us. That bird got an education on hunting that he won't soon forget.

Over the rest of my time on this hunt we scoured the mountain in search of birds averaging eight miles of walking per day, with our highest mileage day coming in and eleven and a half miles, but in the end the only bird I saw or heard was the one I missed on the first afternoon of the hunt.

Jack did end up getting a bird down in a dried-out creek bottom, where he heard several others. We tried our luck in that creek bottom on two sits and didn't hear a bird.

Needless to say, I have replayed that moment over and over again, wishing I could get it back to make the shot. But in the end, it will be a learning experience for me too.