California Mountain Time

I blamed the fog or maybe the sleep in my eyes, but for whatever reason, the hike in had seemed similar to those etched in memory.

Yet as the promise of sunrise lifted the veil, I quickly remembered I was in a far-off country. And only the muffled sound of distant Rio Grande gobblers greeting the dawn grounded me in familiar territory. Amid that surreal scene, uncertainty and adventure beckoned.

After seemingly endless hours of delayed flights and airport coffee shops, a friend and I had joined Parrey Cremeans, owner of justforhunting.com, in Shasta County, California, to hunt Rios in the rugged country east of Redding. We were joined by Jeff Jones of Chêne Gear and Norman Sneed of Mossy Oak. I hadn’t hunted California before, and because my friend and I arrived well after dark, we didn’t know what to expect. But Parrey and his guides had a plan.

Before dawn, my buddy and I piled into a truck and listened as our guide described the situation. We then made a brief hike up a rocky ridge to sparse cover that bordered a traditional roost. And in the gray dawn, turkeys obliged, firing up intermittently from the tall timber. At flydown, our calling was met with a few responses, and we glimpsed several hens and jakes just across the property line in open woods. Longbeards, however, seemed to shut up and disappear.

A quick confab with our guide prompted a new approach. We’d back out and circle left toward a ravine where we’d heard gobbling. And it worked initially, as we immediately struck a gobbler and settled into what seemed like a good ambush setup. For the next few minutes, we watched hens mingle here and there in an open lot across a fence, and the gobbler seemed to get closer. Then, he popped into view, pursuing a hen just out of range. One turn and a few steps toward our soft calling would have ended the hunt, but the gobbler disappeared behind cover and met up with some jakes. A fight ensued, and our chances were sunk.

Or maybe not. Subsequent calling brought another response to our right. And like the first longbeard, this gobbler closed the distance quickly. In minutes, a bright lightbulb head popped up from the foliage. And when he saw our decoy, the race was on. In fact, I had to wait for the bird to run in and then start walking out for fear I’d miss such a close, quick shot. But I didn’t whiff, and our first California Rio Grande soon flopped in the grass.

Ecstatic at our quick success, I snapped pictures and laughed with my friends. But the day had just started. That afternoon, we hit another ranch, and that’s when the full majesty of the northern California terrain revealed itself. With mountains looming in the background, broad pastures and tall, green ridges seemed to stretch forever, broken here and there by deep valleys or steep river banks. The panoramic views reminded me of the backdrops in Western movies in my youth. We remarked that it was almost ironic that we were hunting Rios — birds typically found in wide-open environs — in this big mountain timber.

But sightseeing soon took a back seat. After a couple of stops to glass and call, we spotted a gobbler with a hen near an old homestead. The terrain offered some cover, so my buddy exited the truck and began a slow approach toward a good calling position as the guide and I watched. Soon, a gunshot pierced the quiet, and my buddy then walked back excitedly with a gorgeous Rio longbeard.

The wilds of northern California had produced two great hunts, and we soon learned that Jones had also taken his first Golden State gobbler. After a day like that, we couldn’t wait to see what the next morning would bring.

Day 2 brought an early wakeup and a long hike across what seemed like a mile of ankle-breaking rock. The trouble seemed worthwhile when turkeys began chatting from a hidden roost across a river, but we quickly learned they had plans that didn’t include us. With that, we hit the road.

After a few glassing stops, we reached a two-track that wound down into a deep timbered valley. From there, we hiked on foot and called intermittently for about a mile and a half. Finally, someone suggested that setting up and cold calling might work better, so our guide steered us toward a beautiful meadow bordered by tall ridges.

Our first few calls were met with silence. In fact, my friend and I yelped on and off for 90 minutes with no feedback. But finally, a distant gobble responded to some yelps from a box call. Then another. Five minutes later, more calling brought another response — much closer.

“He’s coming,” my friend said, and we readied for action.

A long silence ensued, and I assumed the turkey was walking toward us. But I couldn’t resist checking him one more time, and my soft yelping was interrupted to three raucous gobbles almost within range. Then, a trio of red necks and softball-white heads popped up over a small rise. The birds peered at our decoys but then seemingly got nervous. Knowing the gig might be up, I whispered to my friend that I had to take the gobbler on the far right. The longbeard folded at the shot, and chaos erupted. Thankfully, my cool-headed friend tracked another gobbler and made good on the double.

Sun had replaced fog by the time we snapped photos and relived the morning. It had been a classic boredom-to-heart-pounding-thrills hunt, made even better by the unique California surroundings. And when our guide told us he’d sprint back to get the truck, saving us a long walk out of that valley, our smiles got even broader.

The next day, we said goodbye to the big Shasta timber and headed south through miles of almond fields bordered by distant peaks. Soon, we’d be back in familiar Eastern timber country, with only pictures and memories to recall our West Coast swing. Still, every time I heard a turkey gobble in timber that spring, it took me back to the ridges and valleys of northern California, and forged a resolve that my first trip there would not be the last.

• The National Wild Turkey Federation received substantial funding through California’s Wildlife Conservation Board to launch the Knopki Restoration Project within the Smith River National Recreation Area on the Six Rivers National Forest. This project aims to reduce hazardous fuels in high-risk areas, enhance habitat defensibility, accelerate the development of ideal habitats and restore ecological conditions for both terrestrial and aquatic species.
• NWTF members and employees joined representatives from the American River Conservancy for a tour of the El Dorado Ranch conservation project July 15. This decade-long project aims to secure 7,200 acres of formerly privately owned oak woodland in an effort to establish the first wildlife area in El Dorado County, California. The NWTF California State Chapter donated $25,000 to support the acquisition of the final 3,000 acres of the ranch.