Fleeting Flocks: Tales of Spring Turkey Season in The Rockies!

Nestled within the breathtaking landscapes of the Colorado Rocky Mountains lies a haven for outdoor enthusiasts and avid hunters alike. As winter fades away and the vibrant hues of spring emerge, so too does the thrill of turkey hunting on the vast expanses of public land. With its rugged terrain and diverse ecosystems, Colorado offers a challenging yet rewarding experience for those seeking the elusive wild Merriam turkey. From the crisp mountain air to the symphony of nature awakening, every moment spent in pursuit of these majestic birds is a testament to the beauty and excitement of the great outdoors. The heart of the Rockies, where the gobbles of wild turkey echo through the valleys and the promise of a successful hunt awaits beneath the bluebird skies of spring.

To even begin this story is to step back a few weeks to a scouting mission undertaken by my buddy Isaac and me. We had had a very successful morning scouting public land and were lucky enough to bump 8-10 turkeys out of their roost. We were especially excited when on the way home we received permission to hunt a private parcel of land. On our way past a ranch, we spotted close to 30 turkeys and after speaking with the landowner we found out that they had close to 70 turkeys and 25 of them being trophy sized Toms. With private land secured we spent our time preparing our calls and looking into different methods of harvest and debated archery or shotgun. As the season approached Saturday, April 13, we got a call the Friday before from the landowner telling us he decided to pull our permission to hunt his land.

Immediately a wave of anxiety and nervousness set upon us as we debated the potential success of our spring season as we had not done much scouting due to securing the private land. That night was spent stressfully pouring over OnX maps to locate a public land hunt for the opening weekend. The location we had previously scouted only allowed hunting Monday-Friday. After an hour or so we felt as if we had picked out a good location and determined we would wake up at 4 to get out to the land. After cementing our plan, we made the choice to go catfishing which led to us waking up an hour past our 4 am alarm hahaha. Nonetheless we had the land and knew how to get there.

After a 45-minute drive with the first semblance of sunlight breaking the mountain horizon, we arrived at the road we had found the night before only to discover it was private access only. Once again, a wave of sickening anxiety crashed upon us. Has our whole season been ruined before it even started once again? With nowhere else to go we decided to push further up the road into the national forest. After another 25 minutes of driving, we entered the forest and to our dismay there were quite a few other hunters already parked and on the move. As we drove past my buddy screamed in delight "Birds!" We were on a flock only a couple minutes into public land.

Immediately we jump out of the car and slip our shotguns out and load them up to climb the 50-foot incline up to where we had seen the birds. So fast I opted not even to change out of my sneakers. I figured since I was wearing Pumas, and they are one of the main predators of turkey it would give me an edge haha. We hustled up the embankment and slowed our pace, hearts racing from the climb and spotted the birds. As they dipped down a ravine we followed. Our early hype gave way to concern as the birds seemingly disappeared. As we sat for a few moments I glanced to my right and over, across the road there they were climbing up the far side of the hill. Hustling down again to the road we split up running up and down the road looking for access to the birds because an overflowing river blocked our way. As we met up again, we debated just crossing the river but opted that getting our feet soaked on a spot and stalk early would not be worth the potential discomfort. As we found our way across, we snuck through the trees as quiet as we could, not a single sign of any hunter in the vicinity. These birds were our prey and were not being pursued by any other predators.

After 20 minutes of sneak walking, we crept over a hill and there they were. Walking away from us only about 20 yards an easy shot for my set up with a full choke on my shotgun. Unfortunately, spring season is bearded birds only and we were on a group of what we believed to be majority hens and a couple of Jakes in the middle. Without a positive identification on the birds, we kept following them. 15 minutes later we see the birds split into two groups and opt to follow the group heading back the way we came. Once again only 15-20 yards from us. Unfortunately, we spooked a deer which put the birds on high alert, and we opted to let them go out of sight for a while since we knew their general direction.

Time and time again we encountered the birds but a failure to ID a Jake or Tom kept us from taking the opportunity. eventually after 7 encounters we found ourselves at the very top of the mountain. Playing cat and mouse we discovered that we misjudged the direction the birds were going, and they had pulled a U-Turn and ended up only 10 yards away. As Isaac believes he positively Identified a bearded bird, much to our dismay, they all picked up and flew back down the mountain where we had started this multiple hour-long chases.

There we sat at the top of the mountain; ironically gorgeous views laid out before us as we contemplated what we did wrong. Was it worth risking a shot and possibly hitting a hen? Did we spook them too much earlier? Should we have stuck with the other Birds? Why on earth did we forget the binoculars in the car? As we contemplated these questions in our minds we decided to get up and sneak out, hopefully we could get back in the evening and they would be back at the starting spot and more relaxed from the pressure we had provided.

As we decided to head down the mountain we heard a gobble. Another one? A Tom? Prior to this glorious sound we were not minding our noise as much but then out of nowhere we were back on the hunt. Sneaking down, Isaac and I decided to split up. As I crept down the mountain, I hit a patch of moss hidden under pine needles and slid 40 feet down a 70-degree incline through rocks, cacti, and brambles. Not the most fun experience but a blessing in disguise. The noise ended up spooking a bird and the movement caught my eye. As the bird ran through the brush, I could barely make out the slightest beard. A Jake!

With my bead following the bird through the brush, I stayed aimed down the barrel waiting for a moment for it to open up for me to shoot. Almost like a chameleon I had one eye on the bird and one eye looking in front of it for the most opportune moment. As the bird hopped up on a log and raised its head searchingly, I fired. The first shot hit but did not seem as effective as I would have liked so I loaded another and fired again successfully finishing off the bird. Isaac could hear me shoot and followed me down the mountain to where the bird had flapped and tumbled into an open area even closer to the road luckily for us. A couple of shouts of success could be heard as I couldn't contain my excitement at tagging out on my first "Big" Game animal of Colorado!