Mexico, Goulds

For more information on our trip check out Jay Scott’s website www.gouldsturkeyhunt.com

“Hey Doc, wanna go to Mexico?”

So began a trip that would become epic in every regard....in the wondrous adventures experienced, the good times and friendships shared, and the thrill of the unknown found in crossing the border of a foreign country for the very first time. So began an introduction to the Gould's subspecies. So began a whole new chapter in an old turkey hunter's life.

Mexico. Just the thought of it had always intrigued me. Its history; its culture; its pretty senoritas were all an evasive allure. I'd wanted to go there since I was kid. My traveling companions would be Stephen Spurlock and Keith Ott...two great friends who were no strangers to travelling far in quest of wild turkeys. Spurlock (or, "Spielburg" as we affectionately began calling him on this trip) would be filming the whole trip in Hi-Def. Ott (or, "Young Bull") was ready to tackle the challenge with his customary wide-eyed, go-get-em, energetic vigor. I agreed to go. I HAD to go. It was the chance of a lifetime, and I knew it!

Passport secured, airline tickets purchased, bags packed, and suddenly we were off. Our entry into "the old country" would be through Douglas, Arizona. A long drive of approximately 8 hours more would bring us into the state of Chihuahua, Mexico, where we'd be hunting on a huge chunk of ground. "Gringos" hadn't stepped foot on this dirt in nearly 20 years!

Our Outfitter Jay Scott (@jayscottoudoors) and head guide Phil Cramer (@cramerhunts) of Goulds Turkey Hunt (@gouldsturkeyhunt) escorted us across the border in their trucks. Jay and Team Strugglebus (a 3-man crew of certifiable turkey killers from Woodhaven Custom Calls led by world renowned champion turkey caller Billy Yargus) led the way, with Phil and Team Chasing 49 following behind. Once our passports and guns were checked by the military, we started out. My first impression of Mexico was everything that I'd always imagined it to be...dusty streets filled with dusty chickens, dusty dogs, and dusty kids. Vendors and merchants selling their wares on every corner. The town's buildings, old cars, and denizens looking generally run-down and haggard. Some of the homes definitely showed squalor as their main fashion statement, but there were also opulent, fortified compounds signalling where the important people lived. I longed to linger and mingle, but we were on a mission. A mission for Gould's Gold!

After our long drive to Chihuahua, we left some trailers and extra equipment in a little conglomeration of perhaps a dozen homes before striking out as a caravan of vehicles ranging from pickups to side-by-sides and four-wheelers snaking back into the wilderness on a rough and bumpy, seldom used trail of a gravel ranch road. The only sign of anyone having ever been there before were the occasional crushed red and white Tecate beer cans that had been tossed out alongside the road. No houses. No vehicles other than our own. No nothing. It was wonderful looking country; rugged ridges covered mostly in Gambel oaks, with a smattering of big Ponderosa Pines.

After a few more "just another 30 minutes" claims from Phil, we finally arrived at our destination. Base camp. It was a large, well maintained hunter's cabin with beds aplenty in the upstairs loft. Very comfortable. Several "locals" were already there waiting for us...cooks, interpreters, ranchers/scouts, and more guides. Most couldn't speak any English, and my Spanish is long neglected and in dire need of practice. But, our head cook Pepe and I could somewhat communicate in a mixture of our respective tongues, while Phil and Jay being much more multi-lingual were able to converse with everyone. We all shared one thing in common, though...lots and lots of smiles!

The next morning Phil introduced us to our first Gould's. It was a flock of approximately 30 birds, including at least 22 jakes and 4 toms. Once they'd committed to our calling, they all came straight in to a setup of 4 guys, 3 decoys, 2 video cameras, and 1 gun. Our main mission on this trip was to get good video footage for Stephen, so when all the birds were grouped up about 15 yards away, I yelped hard to make every single male turkey gobble in unison. I did the same thing again a minute later, and then I shot the tom who had been strutting the hardest around our "Gould's-painted" Dave Smith decoys.

We spent most of the day's remainder shooting video and still camera footage, and then hanging out in camp with the other fellas. Our bird was the only tom taken that first morning. Billy, Mark, and Darin had all come close, but that's just turkey hunting. After a fabulous lunch followed by a "siesta," we went out again in the afternoon, even though we had no intentions of killing anything. There was no sense of urgency. We were here for the long haul, with other goals besides stacking up birds. There would be plenty of opportunities ahead of us, and we knew it.

The next day it was Keith's turn behind the trigger, although it wasn't pulled until the final hour of the day. That's when he called in a world-class limbhanger of a Gould's gobbler who trailed behind about 25 hens and jakes as they approached our hide near a muddy cattle tank showing thousands of turkey tracks around its edges. It was a great hunting spot, and once again, the camera footage gained was nothing short of spectacular.

This volcanic-rock laden countryside was so very interesting, and in more ways than just geologically. It was pretty in a way, but generally sparse, looking "hot," even though the temperatures encountered ranged from quite chilly to downright cold. Then, near a smattering of dense Agave plants, I found a molcajete, which is a big native grinding bowl. On our way back to camp we stopped to explore the stone foundation of an ancient dwelling, and discovered a "pestal" which fit the molcajete almost perfectly. We could absolutely FEEL the history and spirits of the ancestors who once lived in this place!

As for wildlife? There were obviously turkeys in great droves, and Coues deer. Desert bighorns. White-winged and Eurasian collared doves. Band-tailed pigeons. All of these certainly had an abundance of food to eat in the form of tiny acorns scattered widely under every tree, but there was very little in the way of lush vegetation. Obviously a harsh land, but one that supported a variety of critters both big and small.

I think our arrival was a little early in terms of experiencing prime gobbling activity. The toms hadn't as yet fully dispersed from their winter flocks. Oh, we heard plenty of turkeys gobbling and yelping and loudly carrying on, but they were always in pockets and flocks. That's the way we called them in, too. The third morning we got some more absolutely amazing video footage when a whole wad of turkeys descended upon our setup along a sparkling and meandering creek bottom lined with green grass. It was really the first greenery we'd seen, and judging by the vast quantities of turkey dropping and tracks found there the afternoon before, this local flock was pulled to the grassy zone like steel to a magnet. I let them linger for an interminably long time before smoting the bruiser of a tom that was flogging hell out of our half-strut jake decoy.

Only on our fourth and final morning of the hunt did we hear the quantity of separated gobbling birds that I'd been expecting before our arrival. There were toms shouting out from every direction of the compass, and they hit it HARD! But, we were pressed for time before having to head for the border, so Keith and I put on a non-stop calling seminar worthy of either praise or condemnation, depending upon your definition of the word, "overboard." And, it worked! With only minutes to spare, a tom who had started the day gobbling furiously about a mile away finally strutted within gun range, where Keith capably put him down for the count.

As we began the long haul back home, I pondered. What is it that makes these Gould's so special? The birds themselves? They were certainly beautiful, with wide bands of bright white coloring along the edges of their tails and covering their upper covert feathers. They're also big, and have huge feet. Their beards were long, too. Both of my toms sported whiskers topping the 12" mark...the ONLY birds that I've ever taken which reached such dimensions! However, whereas all these physical accouterments are notable, the spurs were not. Other than Keith's first tom, every bird brought into camp had short, stubby spurs. Several of them had no spurs at all.

If not the physical aspects of the birds, then what draws a hunter from north of the border into such a foreign, exotic land? Was the quality of the hunting that good? Well, the short answer would be yes! But, even that doesn't fully explain it. There is something I can't quite put my finger on, no matter how hard I try. Could it have merely been the good times, great friends, new friends, fantastic food, entertaining stories, and strategy sessions shared around the kitchen table at night? Maybe so. Those were certainly a huge part of it for me, and from what I've been told, everyone else in attendance, too.

Whatever it was, I fell in love with Mexico, its people, and their turkeys. In fact, I missed this place even before we said our goodbye's, and I was terribly reluctant to pull away. Memories had been made there that will continue to shine brightly for so long as I live. Would I go back again? In a heartbeat!!

A special thanks to Jay Scott and Phil Cramer for hosting us on this hunt. For more information on their outfit and to book: www.gouldsturkeyhunt.com