Featured photo by Glynn Harris
In just about every sport, there are participants who set personal goals. For example, a baseball player aspires to hit .400; basketball players hope for a triple-double. For golfers, it’s a hole-in-one.
It is no different in the world of the hunter/angler. Bass fishermen look for a lunker weighing in double-digits while deer hunters long for a buck with a rack impressive enough to “make the book”. For turkey hunters, there’s the Grand Slam.
Although I would love to have a 10 pound bass on my wall and my name in the Boone and Crockett records for trophy bucks, this is not what makes my motor run. What lights my fire is to hear the thunderous gobble of a long-beard wild turkey gobbler on a spring morning.
The thoughts of my completing a Grand Slam in turkey hunting was about as remote as me making a hole-in-one. That was before I had the chance to hunt turkeys in South Dakota.
To pull off a wild turkey Grand Slam, it is necessary to take one of each of the four sub-species of wild turkeys found in the U.S. These include Easterns, which inhabit much of the south, east and northeast; Rio Grande turkeys, residents of arid mesquite and cactus country of the southwest; Osceolas which are residents only of the southern half of Florida, and Merriamsof the mountains and plains of the mid-west.
To accomplish such a task, it would be necessary for a lot of things to fall into place, and there would be an abundance of traveling involved. Frankly, I just didn’t see that happening.
One spring afternoon as the sun slipped behind a hill in the Badlands of South Dakota, I completed my Grand Slam. First, a little history of what brought me to this point I never thought I’d reach.
My first turkey hunt was a half-hearted effort when a writer friend invited me to his home state of Alabama to hunt. On April 13, 1992, my guide, Skinny Hallmark, called in a gobbling longbeard off a hillside to my gun and in that moment, something happened that would forever change the way I look at spring mornings. It was love at first GOBBLE…..BOOM, and I’ve chased these wary birds every spring since.
The Alabama gobbler was an Eastern sub-species and I gradually learned what turkey hunting was all about.
In 2000, I jumped at the opportunity to hunt another of the sub-species, the Rio Grande. While hunting with Al Brasuel and sons in south Texas I downed my first Rio Grande. The thought of a Grand Slam only teased the margins of my mind; I saw no way that I’d ever travel to south Florida or to the Great Plains to turkey hunt. That was before Keith Brasuell called me one day inviting me to ride with him to Naples, Florida for an Osceola hunt. Good fortune accompanied me when a mature Osceola gobbler strutted in front of my shotgun.
Like a bolt from the blue, it hit me. All of a sudden, I found myself only one bird away from a coveted Grand Slam. Could Ido it? Could I figure out a way to head somewhere up north where Merriams live?
Soon after returning from Florida, I found a press release from the South Dakota Department of Game, Fish and Parks making a pitch for their great hunting and fishing opportunities. The release talked about the great trout fishing; super walleye angling; wonderful deer and elk hunting….and here is what caught my eye….an abundance of Merriams gobblers.
On a hunch, I called the South Dakota agency, got the go ahead and flew into Rapid City.
In addition to securing a Black Hills gobbler tag, I was one of the fortunate few who also snagged a Prairie tag. This would double my chances for a Merriams, and if things worked out right, I might even get two gobblers which, incidentally I did.
On the last minute of the last hour of the last day of my Prairie hunt, I bagged a big 21 pound Merriams.
There’s no 10 pound bass hanging on my wall nor is my name in the Boone and Crockett book but, by George, there’s a wild turkey Grand Slam hanging on my wall and I couldn’t be more proud..