Michael Pearce's Kansas Outdoors

Gov. Sam Brownback looks at one of two toms he shot, while only having one permit. Danny Armstrong is giving directions to the area to a game warden, after Brownback self reported the unintentional problem.

A long weekend that usually holds some 20 hour days, and an annual chance to see some good friends, held a bit more excitement this year. No doubt Gov. Sam Brownback’s unintentionally shooting two turkeys while having only one permit, then intentionally  self reporting the inciden,t will be one of  the most memorable events of the 27th Governor’s Turkey Hunt in El Dorado.

All political views aside, it’s hard for anyone to not admire the fact that Brownback took responsibility for his actions even though he was basically following the directions of guide Danny Armstrong, who mistook one turkey for another. He made no excuses, and asked for no special treatment.

The first shot wasn’t ideal, as Brownback was told to shoot a mature tom as it feeding along in front of the blind with its head down. Normally birds are standing, with their head and neck stretched up when the shots are taken. A brief mechanical problem prevented a quick follow-up shot afte the bird rolled, regained its feet and trotted off at an angle that made it tough for the left-handed shooting Brownback to shoot again.

Armstrong hadn’t seen the bird turn to the west and thought it was headed to a meadow to the south, where he had Brownback take a shot at a bird walking away from the hunting blind. That three or four jakes were strutting around that dead bird were an early indication a different bird had been shot.

Armstrong went looking for the original bird after he and Brownback had gone to the dead jake. He found the tom about 30 yards from where it was shot, tangled in a woven wire fence.

The tom turkey shot seconds later by Gov. Sam Brownback.

Brownback’s first question was if it was legal to go purchase a second permit for the bird. Armstrong and I told him permits aren’t valid until the next day. It also would have been illegal for Armstrong or me to tag the bird since we hadn’t shot it.

Brownback then said he’d just have to pay the fine for a ticket. He used his cell phone to call Seth Turner, the state park manager at El Dorado State Park. Turner’s job also qualifies him to enforce wildlife law violations, though he tried repeatedly to contact other agency law enforcement officials.

At the scene of the hunt, Brownback volunteered that it would reflect badly on everyone if he wasn’t issued a citation.

As Turner said at the time, and Kevin Jones, Wildlife and Parks law enforcement chief later confirmed, I know of at least four instances when such unintentional cases of game being shot over the bag limit were not issued tickets by game wardens.

Keeping a good sense of humor, Brownback said, “I’m laying this off on Robin (Jennison). He’s always trying to get more money out of me for Wildlife and Parks. He’s getting some, and it’s my money.” Jennison is Wildlife and Parks secretary.

Rather than hold the story for Sunday’s outdoors page, I decided it was important to get the facts public as soon as possible rather than let the rumor mill spin things in inaccurate directions.

News spread fast. By 4 a.m. the next morning one hunter reported seeing it on the bottom of the screen on the Weather Channel. About an hour later another saw it in a similar way on CNN.

By 9:04 a.m. that Saturday morning I got a call that I’d “upset a bunch of game wardens” because I referred to Turner as a game warden as well as a state park manager. Technically, Turner is also a park ranger, meaning he can enforce state park regulations and wildlife regulations.

Several years ago The Eagle decided to refer to those who are enforcing wildlife laws and regulations as game wardens so the public would instantly recognize their duties.

For the first hundred yards I felt my eyes watering. For the second hundred yards I felt those tears turning to solid ice. So it goes when the temperature is in the low teens, and the wind gusts are in the high 20s and 30s, blowing  across scores of miles of frozen, wide-open prairie.

I’d traveled to Gove County to tag along with some researchers studying lesser prairie chickens. A side benefit was to spend some time with my good friend Stacy Hoeme, pursuing wild turkeys Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday. We figured a few hours was all we’d need, since Stacy had seen about 60 birds in the limited habitat of trees and an alfalfa field. The plan was to do it with our bows.

In the conservation of time, let’s just say about everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. The ranch was down to just one or two lone toms by Tuesday afternoon. It’s my guess the coming cold had sent them back to their wintering spot by a feedlot several miles away, where the eating would be easy.

So, amid Tuesday afternoon’s brutal winds, that were sometimes pushing sleet like shot pellets from a fired shotgun, we put up a blind where we’d seen the one bird. It was also a place where Stacy said turkeys often crossed between two clumps of trees.

Because of a lack of birds, and abundance of cold and howling winds, we left our bows behind when we headed across the prairie with shotguns on Wednesday’s opening morning of any-weapon spring turkey season. Optimism wasn’t high. Heading out that morning I realized they were probably the toughest conditions I’d met in 34 spring turkey seasons, in which I’d called birds to gun in heavy snows, downpours, 90-plus degree heat, below freezing temps and gusting winds.

When we reached the river bottom I placed a hen and a jake decoy and hurried into the relative shelter of the blind . After waiting a few minutes I gave a few yelps on a slate call, followed by a few sharp cuts. Bingo! Gobbles from multiple birds came from not far away. Peaking out of the blind I saw one tom roosted almost straight over the decoys, riding a limb that was bucking in the wind like a rodeo bull.

A few minutes later I called again, and again the birds gobbled. I told Stacy our odds weren’t too good for a short hunt, as the birds  would probably move away since  they’d roosted so close to the blind. At best, I figured they’d move away from the area, and that maybe some excited calling an hour or two later might lure them back. But the hunt would be over within a few minutes.

I have no idea how they didn’t see us coming across the prairie and spook as we got to the blind, unless their eyes were blurred by water and ice, too, but they didn’t.

It wasn’t long until we had four toms marching our way, their nearly horizontal beards showing the high wind velocity.

Coming around the trees the sight of the decoys put the three forward birds into the best strut they could muster. The wind pushed their fans nearly flat,  and they appeared to be leaning shoulders into  the wind, like someone trying to force their way through a tight door.

Stacy shot one bird and I took another as it tried to figure out why his buddy was on the ground.

The toms were two-year-olds, with classic 8 1/2 to 9-inch beards, 3/4-inch spurs and probably weighed 17-18 pounds.

I think it’s the first time I’d called strutting turkeys to guns with a below zero windchill.

It was fun, and a pretty good accomplishment, but I’ll take a calm, 50 degree morning any time.