Tom grew up in Milwaukee, bartended in Wauwatosa in the '70s and moved here in 1984.
Commentary, observations and musings about the outdoors, life in general and maybe Tosa politics and personalities will be the order of the day. He savors a lively debate as much as terrific cooking.
Not that I'm superstitious or anything but I think that last night's rare, spring Hunters Moon did the trick. It probably didn't hurt that I engaged in absolutely no trash talk about turkey hunting since last year's turkey drought. I wasn't taking any chances about offending the turkey gods.
Today dawned cold with snow flurries. The puddles and standing water everywhere had either a slushy consistency or a skim of ice over the top. Killed a nice gobbler this afternoon and filled my first season tag. Every half hour I dutifully crooned the turkey love call to lure Mr. Tom Turkey within range of my set-up. I've been calling turkeys for a couple of decades but I think it was my decoy set that did the trick.
Juvenile (Jake) bird mounting a hen. Turkey eroticism. And a forbidden behavior in the mind of Boss Birds in the turkey hierarchy. Three big Toms strolled-in silently intent on attacking and punishing this brazen teenager. I carefully waited for some separation and killed one at 23 paces. The bird has been plucked, cleaned and sent to the freezer for the holidays. Check out Gas Pains on Facebook for more details.
I have a second tag for last season. Stay tuned...