A Family Affair

Our adventure began in Florida with the pursuit of the Osceola. Jacob and I applied for public land tags, but we quickly came across a common theme while doing our research: “If this is your first time turkey hunting in Florida DO NOT do it alone.” There were numerous warnings about the need for a boat, the danger of the terrain and how easily the hunter can become the hunted in the Florida wilderness. Luckily for us, two of our hometown buddies work for an outfitter in southern Florida that offers turkey hunts. We booked our hunt and were set to kick off our pursuit of the Grand Slam in Okeechobee, Florida.

During our first morning there, we set up in a cabbage field. Under the cover of early morning darkness, we placed a decoy in the field and got set up on a levee that provided concealment.

At first light, we let out an owl hoot, and the gobbles started popping off. The turkeys were close and talking, but they pitched away from us and walked to the back of the field and into the woods.

Jacob and I split up with our guides to hunt the remainder of the morning and early afternoon, but we weren’t successful. Being the second to last week of the south Florida season, I worried that these birds had become educated, and it would be tough to bag an Osceola.

That afternoon, we saw a flock of turkeys in the same cabbage field we hunted early that morning. We hoped they would roost in the trees we heard them in at first light and strategically used the dikes and levees as concealment to sneak our way toward the roost.

After waiting nearly an hour, our patient gamble paid off. The dominant tom of the flock fed his way closer and closer to us until Jacob ended the hunt with a trigger squeeze.

The National Wild Turkey Federation reports that Osceola turkeys rarely exceed 20 pounds; however, a commercial scale measured Jacob’s bird at 20.4 pounds. It was the biggest bird the outfit had killed in recent years, and the NWTF required an additional witness for Jacob to register it for his slam due to its heft.

The next morning, I went with my guide to sit in a field where we had spotted a tom feeding the day before. At around 7:30 a.m., I saw something moving through the grass. I kept eyes on it for about two minutes until the red head came out of the grass, and I knew we were back in action.

It felt like an eternity of time passed as the turkey kept going in and out of the tall wild grass at about 100 yards away from us, but he was making his way closer. I reminded myself that patience pays off.

Once he was finally in range and he exposed his red head at 45 yards, I let him have it. There were smiles all around when we met my brother and other guide back at the truck.

Our first leg of the Grand Slam was a success.

Jacob and I got back to our home base of Missouri on April 10, quickly got resituated, and left for Texas on April 12 in pursuit of the Rio Grande subspecies of the American wild turkey.

My brother and I knew we were going to have a good time when we met our new guide, Trotter. Trotter is a good ole boy from Texas, like Jacob and I are from Missouri. His energy was unmatched, and he loved to chase turkeys. At around 11 a.m. during our first morning, we were standing over a creek bottom when Trotter gave out a few yelps. Three gobblers instantly replied.

We snuck in close and began calling again. Rios are nothing like the Easterns Jacob and I hunt in Missouri. Our guide was aggressive with his calling, and this strategy paid off. One of the call-happy gobblers walked right out into the dirt road for Jacob to take a shot.

Having only killed Easterns until our Grand Slam tour, it was amazing for us to walk up on this bird and see the gold tips and the varying colors of iridescent feathers. Each subspecies is so unique, and it’s amazing to see them up close and personal.

After getting Jacob’s bird on ice, we wasted no time setting up again in hopes of tagging out on Day One. After four hours of sitting and sweating, I began questioning if this was the correct strategy or if our guide just wanted a long sit to catch up on some sleep. Not long after those negative thoughts entered my mind, I heard a faint gobble.

I told myself I had turkey fever and tried to simply ignore the phantom sounds, but then the bird hammered again, and again.

At this point the gobblers were undoubtedly getting closer. After shouldering my gun for 10 minutes anxiously and eagerly waiting for the bird to expose himself, he gave me an opportunity.

Our second leg of the Grand Slam was in the books.

We returned to Missouri the evening of April 16 to be there for opening day the following morning. We had a slow start to the Missouri season, and I even missed an opportunity due to a gun malfunction. But, patience paid off eight days into the season, and I filled my tag on our family farm.

Jacob filled his tag two days later, and he and I were both three quarters of the way to our slams as we headed to Colorado to finish it off with the Merriam’s turkey.

We were headed to a mountainous draw unit where we go mule deer hunting every Fall. We had not been there long when we realized public land was going to be hard to hunt. Most public trails were still covered in snow, and those that weren’t were too muddy from the snowmelt to hike.

This was also late in the Colorado season, and all the turkeys we were seeing had moved to private land. Fortunately, we have a good relationship with a local outfitter who owns 30 acres, and she gave us permission to hunt it.

On the first morning hunting the property, we called one tom into shooting range, but horses in the pasture prevented us from taking a shot. We end up sitting on the property until 1 p.m. before leaving to set up on public land the rest of the day.

As darkness fell on the mountains, we headed to bed without any birds on ice. In hopes of upping our chances, we decided to split up for the following morning’s hunt.

I sat under a tree until the sun came up and didn’t hear any gobbles on the property. I dozed off but was awoken by the sound of a gun going off, and I thought it had to be Jacob. Wanting to congratulate him, I got up so I could head his direction.

On my way to him, I was surprised by a turkey walking into a wood line. Hoping to cut him off, I moved to a good spot with cover and a view of the bird making his way to me. I just needed to verify the bird was a tom, and luckily, I had just enough time to glass him with my binoculars. I made the decision to then take my shot once the bird was in range.

When I walked up on my Merriam’s gobbler, the realization hit that I had successfully completed the wild turkey Grand Slam in one season. As I stood there looking out onto the Rockies, I felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment knowing hours of research, traveling, practice and patience had all paid off.

After my celebration in solitude, I set out to go find Jacob. Roughly 45 minutes after I heard the gunshot come from his direction, I walked up on him with a beautiful mature tom laying by his feet.

We instantly embraced in a hug and celebrated the fact that we both had completed our Grand Slams. Pursuing the Slam with your brother (or other family member/hunting buddy, for that matter) is something I cannot recommend enough.

It will come with highs and lows, trials and tribulations, peaks and valleys, but the memories you will make and the turkey meat you hopefully get to eat will be some of the best in your life.

From April 6 to May 16, 2023, Jacob and I spent countless hours in the woods obtaining knowledge and wisdom that we can hopefully pass down to our kids one day as they begin their turkey hunting journey.