Jan and I parted home sometime around 4:30 on Thursday, April 5 and headed south to a ranch I have had the privilege of working with for over 20 years. Located southeast of Cotulla on the Nueces River, the expansive ranch is inhabited by a variety of animals and birds. Our objective was to enjoy the Easter weekend doing what we enjoy most—searching for shed antlers through the afternoon and calling gobblers in the early
mornings.
Following our arrival and stowing our gear, we made our traditional trip down to the Nueces to see if the recent rains had replenished the river, which was completely dry in 2011. As we drove south, the verdant pastures were inundated by beautiful spring flowers and lush grasses. No question about it, finding sheds in the brushy, grass-laden pastures was going to be difficult.
Arriving at the deepest pool of the river called ‘blue hole’, we found it containing water, but the river was barely flowing. Right at dusk we visited a two-acre stock tank called duck tank, but our trip was preempted by several long beards heading to their traditional roost located at the water’s edge. We carefully backed out as I didn’t want to disturb the birds because I intended to return in the morning and hopefully call one of them in.
At six a.m. the following morning, I was walking up the narrow sender towards the pond when a great horned owl hooted and the trees erupted in a cacophony of gobblers. I rapidly located a small thicket shaded by a huge retama tree and got settled in, but not before I removed my two favorite Lynch foolproof box calls and laid them at my side.
Once situated, I emitted three barely audible raspy, yet high-pitched yelps and the gobblers sounded off once again. I was within 50 yards if not closer to the birds. Moments later, I picked up my second call and repeated the three-yelp sequence and the gobblers went wild in the predawn darkness. I simply relaxed until the indigo-blue sky began to yield to the orange glow erupting at the eastern horizon in back of me.
As objects began to take shape, I repeated several low volume yelps from both boxes just to let the toms know the pair of hens were still hanging around. As the sun was about to appear, I could hear the loud clamor of wings hitting the live oak branches as the birds descended, erupting into loud gobbles once on the ground. Responding with low volume intermittent yelps with my boxes infuriated the birds, and before I knew it, seven long beards were drumming in front of me. My morning ended early when the longest bearded three-year-old approached to within 50 steps.
The rest of the day Jan and I searched for antlers, but the recent rains had generated a substantial amount of herbivory, reducing our visibility, in turn success.
My youngest daughter Nan arrived in the afternoon and we continued our quest for sheds.
The following morning Nan and I returned to the duck pond and found the birds a little reticent, but we outsmarted one bird by circling it and brought it in to within 20 yards, but Nan, an exceptional shot, failed to connect.
As the sun dipped below the pastel-orange-colored, mesquite-lined horizon that evening, we bumped into a five-foot rattlesnake, which allowed me to gather some spectacular images of the reptile before it ventured off into the thick ground layer.
After filming the snake, we spotted several toms heading to their roost and planned the morning hunt. Once again I found myself in the predawn darkness in a thicket located on the side of a stock tank. As I called birds would gobble but quite a distance away. With good daylight, a single tom came in and began to drum not 20 yards from me, but it wasn’t the long beard I wanted. Cackling, I had the bird gobbling its fool head off, which obviously attracted the bird I was after. Without seeing a hen, the tom slowly moved away, and as it did, I would coerce it to turn around with a few low volume yelps when suddenly the long beard I wanted bellowed out from the bottom of the opposite side of the dam. Moments later as the sun broke through the low-lying clouds he appeared on the dam, with his tail completely fanned out and his rusty, gold-colored breast feathers reflecting the soft morning sun. Accented by the manila band across its fanned out tail, he was a sight to see. The bark of my shotgun shattered the quiescent morning as the magnificent 11-inch bearded bird collapsed onto the sandy soil.
By 10 a.m. we were attending the Catholic Easter Mass in Cotulla before heading home, enjoying another memorable yet rewarding visit to the Nueces Strip. |