Gould's in Mexico

Over those dirt roads in the mountains, we left the casa at 4:00 am and got there near 5:00 am. Birds were gobbling on the ridge right over the truck, so Pancho and I walked the valley all the way around to behind the same mountain. The valley was open pasture. Birds were gobbling from all the surrounding mountains. None specifically at our calling. Pancho positioned me inside the corner of a wooden corral and I could see pretty well behind me and to my left/front. He even had a wooden stool for me to sit on. He got down in some bushes behind the corrall. I CALLED with a Penn Woods two reed diaphragm. Most all the birds do is yelp, yelp, yelp. First I called up a hen from behind me. She came in STRUTTING and attacked my decoy. She kept pecking it and acting like she was going to mount it. Finally, she knocked it over and jump on it. Then Pancho saw a gobbler strutting on the opposite slope, about 150 yards away. But so did the hen, who went all the way to him. But she started walking back towards the corral and brought him with her. Soon a second hen joined them. I called almost constantly. Then we saw the gobbler breed the first hen. He gobbled at the end of the corral, in range, but I couldn't see him for the fence posts. However, they started walking the corral towards me. I had the gun up and ready with only seconds til he reached an opening. AND THEN . . . From behind me a whole flock descended on me, strutting and running. Several toms in front, then hens, then one last tom. My gun was pointed the wrong way, and it was like "which one do I shoot, which one do I shoot?" I shot the last one at 25 yards. He's the big one who weighed 24 lbs, 11" beard. One spur was a 2/16 inch nub and the other a very respectable (for a Gould's) 12/16 inch. He's the heaviest bird they had anyone take since 1997. :) It was almost toooo easy, and I was disappointed that I didn't get to bust the one I'd initially worked on. Since I'd seen him breed a hen, I thought I'd like to help him die with a smile on his face. Now for the second bird. He was muey dificil and a much tougher trophy. :)

Pancho and I got shut out the second day and think we know why. After climbing about 3 mountains with no results, we walked back out and found that a coyote had come in right on our backtrail. He even left us a fresh, glistening scat. Pancho thinks that's why they zipped their lips. I didn't tell him, but I think it had something to do with the fact that we walked right under them on the way to our set-up. The third morning, we set up near a river and called to birds on the mountain on the other side. At daybreak, I had four hens standing with the decoy. They fly off the mountain and sound like the whistle of a bomb falling. We ended up with another 5 to 8 coming and they made their way upriver. Then, I heard the tom walking down the mountain. He hopped out onto a rock shoal and strutted there forever--at 75 yards. Tom moved on to the hens at 80 yards; we saw him breed one. Then he came as close as about 55 yards. Some of my companions would've taken the shot, but not me. They then moved on upriver. Pancho and I got up and circled way around to intercept them. That time, I was sitting in a little hole and could only see about 10 yards. Tom gobbled as close as maybe 20 yards but he was too far over the crest for us to see. Tom faded away. We moved to position #4. Tom was within fifty yards and between 2 cows. Pancho indicated the bird's location and the cows' location. "No shoot vacas," I said. But, tom didn't seem to want to come any closer so we moved again. This time, we almost bumped them. They spooked and went away, then got curious and came back. We crouched between two cedars with me in front, on my knees, and Pancho right behind me. There was tom, 50 yards to the left of the flock. The hens came within 5 yards, then left, then started back. Tom was strutting and drumming and the sun was up and hitting him. He'd crept a good deal closer but was pushing my comfort range. Now the hens started to leave and I knew he'd follow. IT WAS NOW OR NEVER. Tom's head disappeared behind a big oak and I raised my gun. When he reappeared, I shot. Pancho, who doesn't speak English, jumped up and started hugging me and yelling "****, ****!" I hollered, "Go git him, Pancho before he flops off." I stepped it off. 43 yards. It was a long and risky shot on a strutting bird (he'd only break strut to gobble). Weight 23 lbs 8 oz, 10" beard, 12/16 and 13/16 spurs. Gould's frequently are missinng spurs and the ones they do have are very dull and rounded off from the rocks. The beards can get long but are generally sparse. What's most beautiful is the white on the fans and feathers. They gobble like crazy. And I'll say this, I never thought I'd hear myself say I got sick of calling (or of drinking cerveza) but I did.

Wingshooters Lodge Yecora, Senora, Mexico