We've had more rain this June and July than during any previous summer I can remember. As such, I haven't been too optimistic about the 2010 turkey hatch.

Heavy rains can decimate turkey broods during that critical two-week stretch when poults and their flock hens roost on the ground. In Wisconsin, that period starts about June 5 — which is when the rain started this year. And when I didn't see many poults through early July, my layman's prognosis for the hatch was pretty gloomy.

But a funny thing happened on the way to doomsday. Poults started coming out of the woodwork. This week, I saw a hen with about eight to 10 poults and a mixed flock of two adult hens and six to eight fuzzballs. This morning on the way to work, I slowed down for two hens with two chicken-sized poults.

I'm not suggesting central Wisconsin's 2010 hatch will break records. However, if nothing else, the sightings provided visual confirmation of what I should already know: Even during the worst springs, turkeys still pull off some reproduction. And even if turkey numbers are somewhat lower for a couple of years, it only takes one or two years of good production for them to bounce back. After all, turkey populations essentially replace themselves in about four years.

So I guess I'm breathing a guarded sigh of relief. On the other hand, that completely blows a good excuse for getting whipped next spring.

Click here to get ready for deer hunting this fall!

According to the La Crosse (Wis.) Tribune, Wisconsin's top forester admitted a turkey hunting mistake and paid more than $250 for it.

Wisconsin Chief Forester Paul DeLong mistakenly shot a hen turkey out of season this past spring. Instead of walking away, however, he turned himself in and asked to be treated like any other Department of Natural Resources employee. DNR Chief Warden Randy Stark agreed, fining him $263.

Click here to read the full story.

Check this out to learn all you can about turkeys before you hunt!

by Brian Lovett, editor

Here's something turkey hunters don't see every day.

Turkey & Turkey Hunting reader Justin Teague, of Knoxville, Tenn., recently shared this incredible experience with us.

"While fishing with a friend back in the spring on a local lake near Knoxville, Tenn., we saw something that was a little odd. We observed a
turkey flying across the lake. We saw it fly from one island heading to another island across the main channel of the lake.

"However, it didn't make it across. About halfway across, it nose-dived into the water and began swimming around. From a distance, it looked like a goose in the water. We continued fishing for about 10 minutes and then decided to go see the bird on the way to another fishing spot. As we got closer, we realized the bird was a mature gobbler that appeared to be in good health, and it was swimming just fine. It was headed down the lake instead of toward the bank.

"We decided to idle the boat toward him and steer him toward the island. He finally made it there, and when he reached the bank, it was obvious he was water-logged and exhausted. He could hardly make it up the bank.

"After he stumbled up, he quickly laid down in a downed pine tree. We guessed he was probably in the water for about 20 to 30 minutes.

"I called my dad and all my friends and asked if they had ever seen or heard of anything like this, and no one had. I had no idea that turkeys could even swim. I though you might be interested in this story and could answer the question if this a strange occurrence or if it happens often around lakes and rivers?"

Justin, we asked well-known turkey biologist Lovett E. Williams Jr. about
swimming turkeys. Here's his response:

"I have seen turkeys swimming when they were half-drugged and waded into a swamp or creek, but I have never seen a sober turkey swimming."

Williams agreed that turkeys typically avoid traveling through water that's
too deep for them to wade.

Think that's incredible? Wait until you check out the T&TH Insider's Club.

Harvest figures from Spring 2010 turkey seasons in Wisconsin and Missouri, typically two of the top states, showed mixed results.

The Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources said state hunters shot 47,539 turkeys during the 2010 spring season. That's a 9.6 percent decrease from the 2009 harvest of 52,581 birds, which led the nation. Wisconsin hunters shot 52,428 turkeys in Spring 2007 and 52,880 during Spring 2008.

"The wet spring in 2008 and cool summer in 2009 meant below-average brood production for turkeys the past two years," said Sharon Fandel, acting upland wildlife ecologist for the DNR. "When combined with more normal winter conditions, the slight decrease in the number of turkeys harvested was expected.”

Read the full article here.

Missouri hunters registered 42,253 turkeys during Spring 2010, which was a slight increase from the 41,829 birds shot in Spring 2009. State hunters shot 43,416 turkeys in Spring 2008.

“The opening weekend was pretty rough, with lots of wind and rain, and the last Saturday was windy," said resource scientist Tom Dailey. "Other than that, though, conditions were extremely favorable for hunting.”

Also, a slight increase in 2009 turkey nesting success contributed to the higher harvest.

Read the full article here.

I usually like rainy summer days. There's something satisfying about seeing wet alfalfa glistening in the morning sun or watching a healthy river current wind downstream.

There's an exception, however. I hate rain in early June. That, of course, is when most poults hatch here in Wisconsin, and heavy, prolonged rains can spell doom for many of the new arrivals.

I've been especially worried this year because it's rained quite a bit the past few weeks. Wisconsin's hatches were down somewhat in 2008 and 2009, and I was hoping this year might reverse the trend. The weather seemed to indicate otherwise.

But then hope arrived this morning. As I turned onto a town road on my way to work, a hen popped up in the ditch. Sure enough, at least 10 little fuzzballs — probably less than a week old — followed behind her.

Of course, most of those tiny poults won't make it, but some will. In a few weeks, they'll be jakes and jennies, and in a couple of years, they'll be gobblers and hens. Heck, in Spring 2012, I'll probably cursing their bad behavior. I hope so.

Stay warm and dry, little poults. We're all pulling for you.

The shotgun just doesn't look right as I place it in the safe.

Minutes earlier, I'd swabbed the barrel, cleaned the choke tube and even removed some dried grass from the chamber. That was it. The gun was clean, and the Spring 2010 turkey season was really finished.

I can't complain. The season had been good. True, there had been ups and downs, but that's turkey hunting. If it weren't so frustrating and difficult at times, it wouldn't be as enjoyable or gratifying. Likewise, if it didn't end, we wouldn't anxiously anticipate its beginning.

But let's face it, the end is tough. It's always difficult to transition to a regular schedule when you're accustomed to 2:30 a.m. wake-up calls and the constant chess match against Mr. Gobbler.

Still, the end is necessary. It's time to pay attention to the chores and relationships we've ignored these past few weeks. It's also time to start dreaming of fall seasons and next spring.

Here's to the end — and to beginnings yet to come.

Scott Bestul recently finished his Spring 2010 turkey season in colorful fashion.

Bestul, a contributing editor to Turkey & Turkey Hunting, shot this odd-colored gobbler while hunting in northern Wisconsin. The bird has blond or almost golden secondary wing feathers.

"There have been several of these birds shot in the area in recent years, so the genome for blonds must be there," he said. "You can't see it well in this photo, but even the quills of this bird are almost golden." 

Noted turkey biologist Lovett E. Williams Jr., also a contributing editor for T&TH, described the gobbler as "a partial albino with some erythrism." Erythrism is an unusual reddish pigmentation.

Great bird, Scott!

I rang out several yelps on my glass call, strained to hear something through the wind and then slowly turned toward the truck.

That was it. My season was finished, and it was time to put up the calls and move on to summer pursuits.

When I reached my truck, however, there was a message from a friend on my cell phone.

"Got a strutter located," it said.

Whoa. That changed everything. But the message was an hour old. Was there still time? I turned the truck eastward, intent on finding out.

When I reached the area, the strutter was gone. No matter. He'd probably just walked into the woods, so I'd strike him there.

However, after a long walk and several calling sequences, it became obvious he wasn't around or at least wasn't answering.

And with that, the season was truly finished. I trudged back to the truck, thinking about the highs and lows of the spring: good hunts, bad hunts and mundane moments. The last-ditch effort was certainly one of the latter, but with summer knocking at the door, it was still time well spent.

Here's a new one.

This morning, I was slipping along an open ridge at midmorning, calling now and then and hoping to strike a gobbler. After hoofing about 250 yards, I was baking in the hot sun, so I decided to lose my Under Armour shirt.

I threw off the camo, peeled away the Under Armour and then prepared to stuff the undergarment in my vest. As I bent over, I heard something rustle in the leaves and then watched a gobbler take flight 20 steps away. Apparently he'd been coming to my calling from five minutes earlier, but I never had a clue he was nearby.

"Well that's that," I thought, turning around in preparation for the long trek to the truck.

Will I wait next time to change clothing? Maybe. Will it help? Come on.

Here's a pop quiz for you veteran turkey hunters: What do you get when you spot a gobbler and three hens in a wheat field?

Of course, the answer is three hours of pain and frustration.

I reminded myself of that the other day, after driving by a favorite hunting spot. The birds were in the middle of the field, so I parked out of sight, slipped through the woods to the corner, spied the turkeys at about 90 yards and set up.

After calling for about five minutes, the gobbler stopped strutting and started feeding. Then, he turned and fed toward the other side of the field. Soon, however, he worked back toward the woods about 100 yards to my right. I backed out, slipped through the timber and got within 65 yards of the turkeys.

Then, the gobbler and hens half-sprinted to the other side of the field again to feed.

As I watched and waited for the next hour, the birds slowly fed toward me. When they got within 80 yards, however, they disappeared behind a small rise and apparently entered the woods. I never saw them again.

Three hours of slipping and slithering through the woods had netted me nothing but a few deer ticks and possibly some poison ivy. Oh, and a better appreciation for the unpredictable nature of turkeys.