Turkey hunter David Alexander holds up the 11-inch beard on his Blue Mountains gobbler. Photo by Justin Karnopp.

The gobble echoed throughout the lime-green canyon -- music to our ears. A few moments later, we caught our first glimpse of its maker as a mature tom lit from the oak trees and began his morning strut in a meadow that had been drenched by rain. This was the first weather break in the Blues in a couple of days, and it was apparent that this old longbeard was going to take full advantage of it.

David, Dad and I formulated a quick plan to get within earshot of the tom. We tried to ignore the lures of three jakes in an adjacent drainage and focus our attention on the big gobbler. We made the oak thicket without being detected, and with Dad and Dave set up in front, I called from the rear. A few clucks on a diaphragm call brought an immediate and excited response from the bird. Then his hens appeared, purring and clucking softly in search of another sister. The big tom was at the head of the meadow, out of range, and content to let his hens make the introductions. His girls were 10 yards away when they started to get wary of the situation. The hens bolted at a quick pace and the gobbler followed.

Dave and I moved fast around a rimrock bluff to cut them off. Dave got down and waited in a prone position as the hens single-filed down the ridgeline. Then the big white and purple head showed up. David framed it on his barrel and made a perfect shot. The bird we'd dubbed Tom Gobs, sporting an 11-inch beard, was in the bag. It was David's first turkey and just our second attempt at hunting the Blue Mountains.

MERRIAM'S TURKEYS
When I first started turkey hunting, I logically headed for the rolling hills of southern Oregon where turkey populations are high and public land plentiful. We had good success in the Medford area, which remains an annual destination on our spring turkey quests. However, I am a spot-and-stalk guy by nature, and I prefer to hunt my turkeys just like big game, in more open country where I can locate them with binoculars and move into position.

Merriam's turkeys were introduced in Oregon in the early 1960s, but the birds did not take in much of the state, as Oregon Fish and Game officials had hoped. Today's Southern Oregon turkeys are of the Rio Grande subspecies, which are better suited to the temperate climate there. For Merriam's turkeys, the exception has been in the high mountain country of the Strawberry, Blue and Wallowa ranges, where the elevation-friendly birds have proven to be stubborn inhabitants. While birds' numbers are nowhere near the populations of those in Southern Oregon, huntable populations have been successfully established throughout these ranges. Reintroduction efforts continue throughout the timber country of Eastern Oregon.

SPOT, STALK, CALL
I'm slow to come out of winter hibernation, and I'm not always the first one out of the truck in spring to locate a roosted bird. I've found that the Merriam's subspecies are also late sleepers -- at least they seem to sleep a bit longer than Rio Grande birds, probably due to the colder climates that they inhabit (which suits me just fine).

My strategy is to find a vantage point, a hot cup of coffee in hand, and glass the meadows and openings as the sun starts to warm the strutting grounds. When I locate a bird, I try to determine the best route to get within calling range without being detected by the gobbler or one of his sentry hens. Once I think he can hear clucks and purrs, I set up with a shooter or two well in front and the caller hidden in some thick cover, and try to lure the bird within 30 yards of one of the guns. This type of hunting has proven to be very effective on Eastern Oregon's open slopes.