Summer 2026

BONKER’S WORLD What’s better than turkey camp? Well, that would be two turkey camps in the same year. All of the usual attendees couldn’t be there for the “normal” third season manly man fest so we met up the next weekend for some fourth season shenanigans as well. Opening morning of third season dawned, well, who am I kidding? I have zero idea how it dawned, just that it did. I was still fast asleep when the sun peeked its nose over the horizon. I have gotten very good at sleeping though the sounds of crunchy apples being eaten, granola being munched and a herd of elephants getting their gear together while coffee is being made. It isn’t so much the sound of the vile brew being percolated into life as it is the malodorous vapors said brew is giving off. Of course I did my usual long stay in the comfy mattress covered cot and finally wandered out of the cabin at the crack of 0900 for what was a relatively short sit in the blind. This year it took about five hours for me to get a turkey on the ground. As I have stated before, I believe the reason it has been taking me a little longer to kill a turkey every year is the fact that I’m a year older and therefore just a little bit slower in everything I do. However, I think this year the reason was the turkeys

He stood there for a few seconds and instead of heading for the decoys he decided to strut right in front of the blind. He was close enough that I thought he was going to brush the blind. I couldn’t move, I think he was looking at the decoys with his left eye and looking at me in the blind with his right eye. So I sat there, my gun was leaning on the wall, the turkey was in full strut giving me the eye and he had just moved past the center of the blind. He moved his head to look at the dekes which gave me the opportunity to grab my gun, he took one step toward the dekes which gave me the time to shoulder my gun, but I was too close to the blind wall to poke it out of the slit. I couldn’t lean back any further. I was stuck. I don’t know if it was my movement or the creaking of my bones that made him come out of strut and go into what I call a low crawl position. He took about three steps, went back into strut, he once again turned toward the dekes but he had moved far enough that he was at the very end of the narrow opening of the blind. He still didn’t move to the decoys so I decided that he wasn’t going to go after the jake and give me a nice shot, he was going to continue to move away from the blind so I managed to wrangle the gun out of the blind just as he turned toward the decoys in full strut. What was going to be a ten yard fan busting butt shot turned into a nice head shot. I’ve never had to shoot a turkey in the rear and I still haven’t, but I was ready to. Good thing I got him with one shot because I couldn’t eject the empty shell. Not because I couldn’t, rather the gun wouldn’t. Still not sure why that happened but I did clear the jam so now it’s time for the gun to go to the gun hospital. The next day started out the same, apples, granola, elephant herd and noxious coffee fumes. My Personal Guide had filled his tag in second season so he was out of the game but My Personal Guide’s Assistant and My Personal Guide’s Assistant’s Protégée were still in the game. Later that morning I was settled into the cabin reading a book when I heard two almost simultaneous shots. Hmmmm, either two turkeys with two shots or one turkey that was now turkey burger. Turns out the Assistant and the Assistant’s Protégée doubled up. For the first time in turkey camp history everyone was

were a year older and therefore a year wiser. After four hours of mind numbing blind induced boredom I decided to screech out some “turkey” sounds on a box call. About an hour later, hey I’m claiming that I called him in. Time in the turkey world is relative. Relative to what I don’t know, but I still say it was the magic I worked on that box call that called him in, he was just a slow walker, a very slow walker. I was sitting there contemplating my questionable life choices, turkey hunting being one of them, when not ten feet away from the blind a tom slinked around the corner and stopped. He raised his head up because he was looking at my decoys while trying to decide what to do; turn and run or attack the jake. He did neither. He went into full fan and stood there silently looking at the decoys. I remained calm. All he had to do was strut toward them and he would strut right through my shooting lane. In this instance a shooting lane is a part of the blind that is open far enough to stick my gun barrel through and pull the trigger.

IOWA BOWHUNTERS ASSOCIATION

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