Toms in the Timber

Written by M.D. Johnson

I’ve had some fantastic, once-in-a-lifetime turkey hunting opportunities since killing my first gobbler in 1990. The Black Hills of South Dakota. Florida palmetto swamps. Texas live oaks. A longbeard in the shadow of Mt. St. Helens. A wild ride, yes, sir. A most wild ride.

But while sage and scrub, far-reaching vistas, and snake-filled underbrush have been exciting, nothing invigorates me more than hunting spring turkeys in the timber. The woods. Not on the edge—no, I’m talking about getting into HIS world. Surrounding myself with maple, beech, ash, elm, and pine. Sitting at the base of a 150-year-old oak and playing the ultimate game with a species that’s been around since the proverbial dawn of time. Ah, yes. Turkey hunting in the timber. To me, and to many like me, there’s nothing better.

But hunting timber toms successfully? That’s a trick. An art. It’s more than just blundering into Woodlot A, sitting down, and going about your business. It takes a start. A finish. A plan—even if that plan evolves with every heart-stopping gobble, ending however it ends. Winner. Loser. Doesn’t matter. What matters is you’re on his turf now. But how do you play the game?

During our 18 years in Iowa, I’d say 95 percent of our hunting was done in the woods. Pastures, yes. Corn and soybean stubble, if necessary. But most of the time, we cloaked ourselves in trees and went toe-to-scaly-toe with the king of spring. How? Here’s how—

Have a Plan

A big part of my timber success in Iowa came from knowing ‘my woods’ like nobody’s business. I knew the old roads. The creeks and crossings. The hills and valleys. The interior strut zones. How? Time. Scouting. Observation. And, yes, a little trial and error. I’d love to say I never busted birds while learning these things, but I did. And in doing so, I learned not to do it again.

Most importantly, I knew where the birds wanted to be—especially where they preferred to roost. Same tree every night? Not always. But sometimes. If they went back, I went back. Roosting—accurate roosting, not just guessing the general area but pinpointing the exact tree—became a crucial part of timber hunting. Part of having a plan. Starting with a purpose.

And while we’re on scouting, let me stress the importance of knowing the lay of your land intimately. The rolls. The elevation changes. The creek bottoms and small folds in the topography. These can all help you stay hidden if you need to move on a stubborn gobbler. Good turkey hunters are first and foremost tacticians. They don’t hurry. They don’t rush. They move with purpose. And they lie in wait—with purpose.

Forget the Decoy

In the timber, I want the bird to hunt me. I want him coming ever closer, searching for the ‘hen’ he can hear but can’t see. What I don’t want is to give him a visual reason—i.e., a decoy—to stop out of range or, worse, strut and gobble just out of sight, waiting for Mama Turkey to wander his way. It’s your call, certainly, but I seldom, if ever, use a decoy in the woods.

Set Up Smart

Ideally, I want the bird well within my effective range—a conservative 35 yards—before I first see him. To make that happen, I think before I sit down. Roll here. Rise there. Where is he? What direction will he likely come from? Will he be too close? Too far? Is that massive ball of tree roots on that wind-blown oak going to be a problem? Think, but think fast.

And can you move in your seat? Not getting up and relocating, but shifting your shotgun 180 degrees if he doesn’t come in at 12 o’clock but instead from 10 o’clock? Or 3 o’clock? Can you move?

My rule for setting up in the timber? If you sit down, start to get ready, and think, this isn’t going to work—move. Period.

Call Judiciously

The secret to successful turkey calling is simple: Give him just enough to keep him interested and hunting you, but not so much that he plants his feet and waits for the hen to come to him. This is even more critical in the timber, where visibility is often limited—for both you and the bird.

In an open field, a gobbler expects to see the hen he hears. But in the woods, he doesn’t expect to see her until he’s close—so he keeps coming. And, hopefully, keeps coming. Personification? Maybe. But from a biological and tactical standpoint, it makes sense (to me).

Patience. Persistence. Self-Discipline.

And finally, The Big Three of turkey hunting success—whether in the woods, open fields, ag-land, swamps, or waiting for that Buy One/Get One super savings at CostCo: Patience. Persistence. Self-discipline.

Be patient. He’s in no hurry. He doesn’t wear a watch. Give him an hour. Then another 30 minutes. Or as long as you can stand it.

Be persistent. Don’t give up. He’ll make a mistake—but you have to be there, still and ready, when he does.

And have self-discipline. Put the call down if you need to. Be quiet. Wait for the right shot. It’s coming. Take your time. Make it count. And if it doesn’t feel right, give him a pass.

Tomorrow’s another day.