Colorado Hunter Testimonials ‘Turkey Season’

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Kevin Brookes celebrates his Colorado tom. Photo by Kevin Brookes.

Hunter: Kevin Brookes
 I typically hunt big game in Colorado. This year I decided to try my luck with a turkey hunt along the Front Range. Growing up on the East Coast, our turkey hunting consisted of corn fields and lightly wooded areas. This particular hunt, I found myself deep in the woods as the sun broke through the tree cover. Fortunately, it wasn’t long until the hillside erupted with multiple toms gobbling. I decided to hold off on an approach until I had a good understanding of what direction they would be traveling. As it turned out, I did not need to move far as 6 toms chased a hen within 40 yards of me. I have had the opportunity to hunt turkeys from New England to Nebraska, and this was one of the most exciting hunts I have been apart of.

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Cole Poland with his Colorado tom. Photo by Cole Poland.

Hunter: Cole Poland
It was a great morning in the woods. I got to my spot a little after first light. Walking in I bumped two hens where I wanted to set up, and I took that as a good sign. For a little over an hour, I was in between two different gobblers, and then just like a light switch, they went silent but the woods came alive: wood ducks screaming through the trees; fox squirrels jumping limb to limb; multiple drake mallards chasing hens and pairs of geese letting their honks echo through the river bottom. I would hear an occasional yelp from a hen and had a few come say hi to my decoys. At 8:20 a.m. I picked up my box call, and before I was done with my sequence of calls, a gobbler answered back from within 100 yards. I gave it a few moments and two more gobbles came roaring back to my soft yelps. My gun was on my shoulder and my heart was racing. When what ended up being a 3-pack of toms started gobbling on their own and each one closer, I knew I had them. I watched the first one drop into a slough bottom and the others right on his tail. Once they popped up on to my side they all let out a gobble. Coming from my rear left, the first one appeared from behind a tree at 10 yards. I squinted in fear they were going to see the whites of my eyes, and I wanted to melt into the tree I was sitting against! The second bird strolled out from behind the tree, neck stretched, and my old 870 rang out with a trusty home-load.

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