The Mysterious Morel

Few other secrets in nature bring out the territorial instincts of an outdoorsman as asking him about where his favorite mushroom hunting grounds are located. If he offers to take you with him mushroom hunting he is either taking you to unexplored territory and he wants to employ another set of eyes or you are in the inner circle of the tight-lipped and trusted hunting buddies who would never reveal the location of his secret mushroom beds. Either way, it is an exciting hunting trip that can produce some of the most delicious morsels that Mother Nature has to offer. For me personally, morels are the only things that can derail a spring turkey hunt right in the middle of the chase.

Many years ago my son Jason and I were quickly sneaking down an old fence-line while spring turkey hunting. We had heard some turkeys and Jason wanted me to call one in for him. As we slipped along the fence I was moving at a fairly quick pace trying to find a spot from which to call. As I slipped along I was glancing here and there. All of a sudden something subconsciously triggered in my mind. I was not looking at it but I realized I had walked right past a large morel mushroom. I stood straight up and stopped in my tracks. Jason said, “What’s wrong? Do you see a turkey?” I didn’t say a word but immediately backed up and started looking at all the places along the fence that I had just passed. Then I found it and man was it a nice one. As I zoned in on the area I realized there were several right there in front of us. I dropped everything and started picking mushrooms. Jason stared on in complete disbelief.

Jason said, “There are turkeys gobbling and you are picking mushrooms? You have got to be kidding me!” I didn’t say a word but just kept picking. He urgently kept on whispering some mumbo jumbo and I kept on ignoring him until he said something a little more urgently than before. “There are turkeys right in front of us!” Ok, now I started paying attention. Sure enough, about fifty yards in front of us a group of young gobblers had been coming to the calling we had done before finding the mushrooms. I had been in the mushroom zone and hadn’t been listening. With hands and pockets full of morels I dropped to the ground right under the fence and began calling. Jason sat down in his tracks. Within 5 minutes the turkeys were twenty steps out and Jason laid into one. Jackpot! Now that was a hunting trip to remember – mushrooms and turkeys, what a combination!

Morel appearance is influenced by weather more than any other factor. Ground temperature, air temperature, and ground moisture are the main factors. Warm spring days with highs in the 60’s to 70’s and ground temperatures in the 50’s to 60’s are ideal conditions. Morels are found in many areas but there are some places more productive than others. Under certain types of trees, such as elm, ash, sycamore, and apples trees, there are great opportunities. There is a ‘look’ that goes with ideal morel hotspots. After you learn the ‘look’, as you walk through the woods you instinctively lock-up and survey the area. As you get more adept to the experience you will spend much less time hunting and more time finding mushrooms. To help you identify the many different types of trees I suggest you visit a local Missouri Department of Conservation Office and pick up some the various publications available to the public. A personal favorite spot for me is a well drained but moist area containing dead and dying elm trees with bark slipping from the tree trunks and amassing on the ground around the base of the tree. If there are some clumps of green grass growing in the leaves or moss growing on surrounding rocks, all the better. This describes an area with the ‘look’ of a morel hotspot.

After mastering morel hunting, next comes morel cooking. My favorite two ways to fix morels are the old reliable egg and flour battered and fried in butter in a cast iron skillet and cooked in wine sauce. Morels cooked in wine sauce and served with a thick ribeye steak fresh from the grill is second to none! For more delicious morel recipes and morel hunting information, visit The Great Morel website at thegreatmorel.com . There is more information on the web about this wonderful pastime than you would ever imagine.

Morel hunting is an opportunity for the whole family to learn tree identification, mushroom identification, and outdoor savvy. You can start a young outdoorsman on the path of living within the boundaries of Mother Nature’s Economy while spending valuable time with your children and grandchildren. So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly. Good luck, be safe, and get a big one.

Link - thegreatmorel.com

Turkey Hunting Humble Pie

I’ve had turkey fixed about every way you can fix it. It’s all good,… except one way – a big heaping helping of turkey hunting humble pie. I hate that stuff! This past weekend during youth season we had it all covered – new ground blind, all varieties of turkey calls, great looking decoys, and a great place to hunt. The turkeys, however, weren’t let in on the plan. They did not cooperate…or they cooperated too well, depending on your point of view.

My cousin, Lance, and his 8 year old daughter, Lydia, hunted with my son Alex and me at our farm for the youth turkey season weekend. Our camper was set up beside the old farmhouse. We had all the camp necessities – hot dogs, soda, candy, and chips. We had all the right equipment – ipods, cell phones, hand held movie players…(I don’t know the correct name for these things…PS2 player maybe?), anyway, they kids were ready to go.

The night before opening morning, after a 10:30 pm camp hot dog, we went out to set up the ground blind in the pitch black of night in the food plot next to the turkeys we had roosted. Opening morning found us all four in the blind at the first crack of light. We heard several gobblers gobbling from the roost; however they weren’t as close as we had thought. After approximately an hour of calling, it was decided that Alex and I would take a trip to the other side of the farm. That is when the ingredients of the turkey hunting humble pie began to come together. Just as we made it to the road leading from the food plot, a large gobbler hidden in the brush in the opposite corner of the food plot, decided to bug-out. He had been coming to our calling but hadn’t made a peep in return. That disgusted, sick feeling crept over me. Sometimes in turkey hunting one chance is all you get.

After getting to the other side of the farm Alex and I, in one of our favorite ambush sites, crouched down to call without putting out the decoys and locating ourselves in good tactical positions…turkey hunting tip #1 - NEVER call without expecting a turkey to answer right on top of you. This was the second ingredient of the bitter turkey hunting humble pie recipe. As we were standing in the corner of a field, up on a knoll in the wide-open woods, a gobbler answered not 75 yards from where we were standing. We immediately dropped to the ground. Alex was between my legs and we were sitting with no backrest in the middle of a briar patch. The gobbler flipped on his gobble switch and it was stuck on ‘gobble’. As he was coming in and answering our every call, we could hear him walking in the leaves just under the knoll on which we were located. Just then, in the distance we began hearing a helicopter. As the helicopter got closer and closer it also got louder and louder and the gobbler shut up, or we just couldn’t hear him over the noise. It flew directly over our heads just a couple hundred feet off the ground. It felt as though the ground was shaking!

After the ground finally stopped moving and the noise subsided there was no sign of our gobbler. A few minutes went by but we still could not hear him walking or gobbling (…maybe because our ears were ringing…). After a few more minutes of sitting up without a backrest and Alex leaning on me, my back began to scream. Then Alex whispered, “Dad, there he is!” As I looked frantically down the fence from where he had previously been coming I asked, “Where? I don’t see him.” As only fate would have it, the crazy thing was on my blind side (One-Eyed Hillbilly), directly to our right, forty yards from us! We were pointed in the wrong direction, sitting with no backrest, standing out like a sore thumb, and with no way to move. The gobbler began clucking and walking directly away from us. Defeat snatched from the jaws of victory. This turkey hunting humble pie was being force fed with helicopters.

The final ingredient to our weekend recipe of turkey hunting humble pie came the second morning. Again, we had roosted the turkeys, again we had a battle plan, and again we were ready to get started. Nothing would stop us today…until Alex, as he sat there in the camper on the edge of his bed getting dressed said, “I hear a turkey gobbling.” I told him he was crazy. It was 5:30 am and he was still in the camper. If he heard a turkey gobbling it would have to be within 75 yards of the old farmhouse and camper. I opened up the door to the camper and “GOBBLE, GOBBLE, GOOBLE!” There were two turkeys roosted within 75 yards of the house! We immediately began bumbling and falling all over each other in a mad rush to get dressed! The turkeys were so close that we didn’t know how we could get out of the camper without being seen.

First thought would be to think that this was a stroke of good luck; however it was actually the third and last ingredient in the humble pie. First of all our carefully crafted battle plan for the two groups of hunters for the day had to be scrapped. Second, we had no prior knowledge of the roosted birds so close to the house and thus, no good plans and tactics for taking advantage of the situation. With campers, houses, tractors, trucks, barns, and well houses blocking every route, there was no good approach for this unforeseen opportunity. We had to sneak through the farmhouse back yard, through the woods, and over to the trail leading to the food plot and set up our decoys. The two gobblers were gobbling about every thirty seconds. I heard one fly down and gobble on the ground. Then, just as I had suspected, the two turkeys retreated directly away from the direction of all the structures, roads, and vehicles, gobbling the whole time as they went. They wanted the hen we were representing to follow them however they weren’t about to come toward us. It was a bitter lesson in futility. Humble pie served up cold and dry.

With youth season over we now will place all our hopes in the Missouri regular turkey season, Monday, April 19 – Sunday, May 7. My youngest son, Coleman is turning 6 years old on April 12, so he will be in the ground blind with us. I hope he is a good luck charm since Alex and I can’t stomach any more turkey hunting humble pie. I hope you get the opportunity to take a child to the woods this turkey season. Even when eating humble pie it is one of the most enjoyable experiences of which you will ever be a part. It is also an experience to set a child in motion down the path of a rewarding life in the Great Outdoors. So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly. Good luck, be safe, and get a big one.

Crossing Fences

In Missouri, prior to 1969 the law of the land regarding fencing was “open range.” Open range meant it was the landowners responsibility to “fence out” neighboring livestock. Livestock, like wildlife, had free range of the land. That all changed in 1969 when the laws changed to “closed range.” Thank goodness the livestock these days are more educated and understand boundaries, since the livestock owner has to “fence in” their livestock and livestock are not allowed outside those fences. I never had that much appreciation for how educated our Missouri livestock was until I grew up in the outdoors crossing fences. Over the course of forty years it is amazing how much you can learn from such a small and seemingly inconsequential action as crossing, or not crossing, a fence. And the cattle have it figured out.

The first lesson about crossing fences took me well over thirty years to learn and I still forget it occasionally. I experienced déjà vu as I recognized the question and tone that my wife used was identical to that used by my mother for years while doing my laundry and I finally put it all together. From the time I was a young boy up until, umm… last year,… from the laundry room came that same incredulous, distressed, and disgusted voice questioning why I had worn my good pants out in the woods. When crossing a fence, if you are wearing new britches they will rip every time. That is a law written by the fence gods. Take it to the bank.

The second lesson about crossing fences is that hunting dogs and their quarry are color blind and they aren’t as smart as livestock. Either that or they just don’t care about boundaries. Trusting hunting dogs on property boundaries is like trusting the government on international borders – someone is always on the wrong side. Also, all those purple trees aren’t the result of vandals with bad taste in paint color. Apparently, every hunting dog I’ve ever hunted behind was color blind. If you are in the middle of pubic hunting ground and your blue tick strikes, you can bet that the coon and the dog will make a bee-line for the nearest private fence or pretty purple trees, especially if the landowner doesn’t want you there. It’s aggravating when a fella pays big dollars for a top notch hunting dog and it isn’t even as smart as Ol’ Bessie the cow. It’s also really embarrassing when the dog trees in the landowners backyard. Truth be known, I think the coons, coyotes, foxes, and rabbits know the rules but try to frame our hunting dogs. I’ve heard deer do the same thing….

Next lesson - fences will make a liar out of your dad. If you are under 12 years old, ask the Old Man if he can do a forward flip and land on his feet while decked out in his turkey hunting garb. He will tell you, “no way.” Next, begin working a turkey with an old, barely visible, knee-high fence about twenty steps out in front of you. Now, don’t tell the Old Man there is a fence out there. At forty steps, as he shoots the turkey out from under you while it was coming right to you, he will jump up and run like a mad man for the bird. Just about the time he gets to the knee-high fence he will perform the most amazing acrobatic front flip you have ever seen. The judges would all hold up the perfect “10” card if it weren’t for him loosing his shotgun in mid-air and bouncing his butt off the ground on the landing. It’s probably a good idea to go to the bathroom before going on this hunting trip because you will pee your pants after watching him flip and then from the laundry room you will hear that same incredulous, distressed, and disgusted voice.

The final and most shocking fence crossing lesson is learned while hunting during a thunderstorm and crossing the fence. With a bright flash, somewhere up the fence line lightening hits the fence and all the water on the fence raises straight up in the air like a Star Wars force field rising from a space ship. And, as you straddle the fence while holding the top wire down with your hands, you won’t be able to get off the fence. Trust me on this. Despite time going into slow motion and the electricity violently surging through your hands and arms, strangely enough you are still able to think fairly clearly. You remember the many times you have been stung by 110 volts from a house outlet and you compare that experience to touching your tongue to a 9 volt battery as compared to Mother Nature’s current lightening example. Finally, your quick thinking uncle realizes what is going on, lowers his shoulder, and hits you like a middle linebacker, knocking you off the fence with a bone crushing tackle. To add insult to injury, as your uncle lands on top of you, you crush your father’s prize turkey box call between your hip and the ground on the other side of the fence.

These are some of the many lessons learned when crossing fences in the Ozarks. So, as a landowner, when considering our boundaries and in the interest of the good neighbor policy, during fall hunting season it is sometimes prudent to remember hunting dogs and their quarry don’t understand fences and purple paint. On the other hand, this spring while turkey hunting, when contemplating crossing fences it is sometimes wise to take a lesson from our educated livestock friends and don’t do it, especially if you are color blind, wearing new britches, and hunting in a thunderstorm. So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly. Good luck, be safe, and get a big one.