Breakaway Classic Adventures: A Wild Turkey Hunter
Breakaway Classic Adventures: A Wild Turkey Hunter
I was first introduced to wild turkey hunting in the spring of 1998 by my wife’s grandfather, a great outdoorsman, trapper, deer hunter and of course an exceptional turkey hunter. Ralph Foster was his name and there was nothing pretentious about him, as down to earth as a fellow could be! Ralph and his buddies owned a hunting camp in the little hamlet of Rexville beside the fire hall in Steuben County. When a hunting season wasn’t on the calendar, one would hear the sounds of banjos, fiddles and steel guitars as a bluegrass festival was in full swing. In fact, as you’re about to step onto the porch which doubled as a stage, chiseled into the stepping stone was a greeting… “Welcome Bluegrass Lovers.”
Somehow everything fit together perfectly at the old camp - the music, the camaraderie, tall tales and of course the food. If by chance you were offered an opportunity to be a guest, you’d wake up at 4:00am to the smells of breakfast wisping into the loft where you bunked… squirrel stew as always on the menu!
The camp never held more than a few acres of land but had a babbling brook running through it. Back then you didn’t need to own your own land; neighbors always let you hunt on theirs! Ralph was a natural at making friends and had such an easy-going personality that his many neighbors and friends always looked forward to his visits. He was not only welcomed for his storytelling and quick wit but also because he was another set of eyes safe guarding their property from trespassers and evil doers like litter bugs and joyriders on ATVs.
Spring turkey hunting starts May 1st and runs to the end of the month. Unlike fall hunting hours from sunrise to sunset, the spring hunt is just half a day, starting a half hour before sunrise and ending at noon. The bag limit is also different; in the fall you are allowed to take one bird of either sex for the season, while in the spring you are allowed two bearded birds. Also, in the fall you can hunt with the use of dogs much like in traditional upland game hunting, whereas in the spring you are not.
Ralph, in his quiet way, made sure everyone was up at 4:00am with the coffee pot percolating like a freight train about to go off its tracks, and the sizzling of his cherished cast iron skillets frying up home fries in one and strips of bacon in another. By 4:30am the troops are out the door and on our way to our designated hunting positions as determined the night before. Everyone has their favorite posts and it’s important to get all set up and comfortable well before the turkeys come down from the roost. Another part of the evening war planning was to drive around the countryside, stopping frequently and pulling out an owl call to scout out locations where the turkeys are roosting for the night. Hearing the hooting of an owl, they can’t help themselves from gobbling back and giving away their locations.
The edge of a field along an old fence row of gathered stones was Ralph’s favorite waiting spot located to an adjacent raven sprouting a hillside of tall hemlocks. Turkeys like to roost in the tall evergreens about halfway up their trunks, as it’s easier for them to fly from hilltop to treetop horizontally than flying straight up.
Ralph’s number one lesson that we all learned from time spent with him, was to be patient, remain absolutely still until it hurt, and above all, be extremely quiet. His signature saying, remembered by all the generations that hunted with him right down to his great grandson, was that “a turkey can hear a mosquito from a hundred yards away.” Thus, he used his turkey call sparingly with the precision of a surgeon, knowing when to cut the silence, for how long and with what strokes. You can’t undo what you shouldn’t have said once it leaves your lips!
The box call was his call of choice and his most cherished possession, handcrafted for him by one of his longtime hunting partners. Not that he had anything against the numerous other types of calls out on the market today, but holding a well-designed wooden box call in his hands was like a violinist holding their Stradivarius. The cords resonating from that call were music to a turkey’s ears! His weapon wasn’t nearly as important as his box call but nonetheless, without it, few if any turkeys would have been harvested. The Remington 870 Wingmaster that he used was more of a hunting companion than just a shotgun. In his later years, he never loaded till he was comfortably sitting down; it served as a cane to climb some steep slopes and a shoulder to lean on to catch his breath once nearing the top.
Ralph always looked the part of a well-seasoned hunter and not a model from a Cabela’s or L.L. Bean catalogue. Like a cowboy, if Ralph would have had his way, he would have died with his boots on. And although they were the famous Bean’s duck boots, they were never laced up, making them quicker to slip on in the morning and easier to kick off for his afternoon nap on the living room couch. Ralph was born on May 31, 1921 and passed away on June 1, 2013. You could say that he was born and died a true turkey hunter with 92 seasons under his belt and as many turkeys!
Indrek Kongats is an artist, traveler, outdoorsman, and business owner residing in Ellicottville. He operates River Dog Art Gallery in Houghton, NY, and his Breakaway Classic Adventures specializes in adventure travel destinations. Learn more about him at breakawayclassicadventures.com.