5/22/2007

Spring Season Ends with Classic Adventure
by Lowell Washburn

GARNAVILLO---The final segment of this year's spring turkey season has come to an end. For the 55,000 Iowans who pursue this elusive species, it will be a long, long wait until the spring gobbling begins again next year.

For those of you who don't hunt wild turkeys ---- Well, you just don't know what you're missing. Anyone who samples the sport quickly realizes that there's a whole lot more to the game than just bagging your bird.

Turkey hunting is mostly about clear crisp mornings, spectacular sunrises, and the smell of damp earth. It is also woodsmanship. The art of moving softly and blending into your surroundings so completely, that you almost become a part of the timbers you stalk.

Turkey hunting is also about sound --- the soft rustle of new foliage and the songs of a million birds returning from the south. But the bird sound hunters crave most, of course, it the ancient staccato rattle of the wild gobbler. Blood stirring and primitive, it is a sound like no other.

The sound of gobbling can become so addictive that, even after they've bagged their turkey, many hunters continue to rise at three or four a.m. just to hear the noise one more time.

The longer I spend at it the more I realize that, perhaps as much as anything, turkey hunting is also about people. Our party has hunted on some of the same farms for more than a quarter century now. You get to know a landowner pretty well in that amount of time. I can name more than a couple of farmsteads where sitting down to the kitchen table really does feel just like home.

We've become a mobile society, and people seem to get pretty scattered out these days. For a lot of folks, myself included, the spring turkey season is as good of an excuse as any for friends and family to come together.

My old friend Ed Kotz of Grinnell is a good example of what I'm talking about. A gobbler enthusiast to the core, Ed turns 85 this fall. He's the oldest active turkey hunter I know. Whenever he shows up for a hunt, one thing is certain. Something amazing is about to happen. This spring was no exception.

When Ed caught up to the gang this year we were hunting in the bluff country of northeast Iowa's Clayton County. The final segment of the spring season was already underway and the clock was ticking. As always, Kotz was eager to hit the woods.

The weather was less than ideal. Just before dawn, the breeze picked up and a steady rain began to pelt the woodlands. Within a half-hour of entering the forest, I was soaked to the bone. Predictably, there was not so much as a single gobble.

Two miles and three ridges over, Ed was using his head. He stayed warm and dry while the rain played a lullaby on the roof of his car.

Another hour passed and the rain abruptly ceased. Forest creatures began to stir, and the turkeys immediately started to gobble. Although Kotz attempted to work three different birds during the next two hours, the crafty toms refused to respond.

Deciding to call a temporary halt, Kotz cautiously stood to survey his surroundings. Much to his chagrin, he immediately spotted a monster tom trotting in his direction. Slowly bending his knees, Ed managed to return to his seat without spooking the incoming turkey.

Continuing on course, the gobbler passed without presenting a sure shot. Seizing the paddle of his wooden box call, Kotz scratched out an enticing series of yelps. Liking what he heard, the tom turned on his heel and began a beeline to Ed's position.

Arriving at the hunter's location, the gobbler stopped and suddenly broke into strut. It was the bird's final act.

The hunting party had reassembled and was attempting to dry off when the cell phone vibrated in my pocket. It was Kotz.

"Hello. This is Old Edward," he announced.

"Since it stopped raining, turkeys have been gobbling all over the place up here. One just came strutting in a minute ago and I got him. I think he's probably a 25-pounder," he added.

We lost no time in driving to the woods. Kotz was nearly to the road when we arrived. His gobbler was indeed a sight to behold. With a massive body, 11-inch beard, and inch-plus spurs the tom was a work of art.

In spite of the lousy weather and educated birds, Kotz had managed to score a classic hunt. Like I said, whenever he's around something amazing is bound to happen.

Following a rousing session of congratulatory back slaps and excited chatter, Ed suddenly suggested we celebrate by heading into town for breakfast. When hunting turkeys in Clayton County, going to town for breakfast can only mean one thing ---- a trip to Thoma's Dairy Bar.

Located on Garnavillo's main drag, Thoma's is one of the best places I know to find out where the bucks are runnin', the trout jumpin, the morels poppin', or the turkeys gobblin'. The cafe also has food, and it's as good as you'll find anywhere in Iowa. When it comes to great home cookin', this place is the real deal. Proprietor Rory Thoma proved the point by delivering steaming platters of blueberry pancakes, eggs, and ham.

Breakfast also became story time, as we relived some of our more memorable bluff country hunts. As we prepared to leave, Ed announced that he was springing for breakfast. Like I said, whenever he shows up something amazing is sure to happen.