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'Day of the Gobbler'
Turkeys pose plot twists, exciting climax to hunt
4/20/03
Thom Gabrukiewicz, Redding Record Searchlight
CALL OF THE WILD: Tom Hughes uses a mouth diaphragm call to entice wild turkey gobblers into a shooting lane during a spring turkey hunt at a Ukiah winery. Photo by Thom Gabrukiewicz
DISAPPEARING ACT: Ed Zieralski, left, of San Diego, and Hughes, of Edgefield, S.C., blend into the winery's surroundings to fool the wild turkeys. Photo by Thom Gabrukiewicz
SUCCESS: Jim Stengle of Ashland, Ore., Harry VanAntwerp of Ukiah and Jepson Winery manager Scott Jepson return to their vehicles after a morning of shooting on the Jepson ranch. The hunters bagged three gobblers. Photo by Thom Gabrukiewicz
UKIAH — If Hollywood ever wanted to relive the days when it made movies with benign critters bent on world domination, the 1,240-acre Jepson Winery could serve as a lush backdrop for location shots.
Rows of wine grapes stretch from Highway 101 to the Russian River. Rolling, oak-studded hills give way to high chaparral habitat.
California quail scurry through the tall grass in bobbling hordes. Blacktail deer crash through stunted live oak and manzanita on the sound of advancing Jeeps. Wild pigs rise secretly from hollows to root through fields at dusk.
Wild turkeys strut through rows upon rows of grapes that will soon be made into fine Chardonnays, Merlots, Zinfandels and 20-year-old signature reserve Alambic brandy that's specially blended and bottled for one noteworthy customer — retired Gen. Norman Schwarzkopf.
For a few lucky hunters, a day on the Jepson ranch is like a day on a movie set, where magic can be made. And the hunters win.
Call it "Day of the Gobbler."
Reviews give the experience two thumbs up — and five stars.
"I turn 53 years old next weekend and I've been hunting all my life," says Harry VanAntwerp, a Ukiah mechanic who also helps with security on the ranch/winery. "But that's the first turkey hunt I've been on.
"I mean, I've shot a lot of turkeys, but that's the first true hunt I've been on. Fantastic, truly fantastic."
The establishing shot
VanAntwerp's Jeep Wrangler rumbles down a pitted dirt road that separates the Russian river from fields of Viongier and Chardonnay grapevines. An old railroad bed, complete with rusty rails, further splits the ranch from the drone of traffic on Highway 101.
"Hold on, look down the row there," he says. "Big gobblers."
Five hunters have stuffed themselves into VanAntwerp's Jeep; five sets of field glasses are trained on the dark specks moving down a row.
"Look at the beard on that one," says Tom Hughes, a wildlife biologist with the National Wild Turkey Federation's Wild Turkey Center in Edgefield, S.C. "It's dragging on the ground. These birds will go 20 pounds, no problem."
It's like that for the two hours it takes to circle just a small portion of the ranch's vines. Row after row of grapevine holds clusters of gobblers, jakes (immature males) and dun-colored hens.
"I've never seen a ranch like this one, and I've been here all my life," VanAntwerp says as he brings the Jeep to a halt at the Victorian farmhouse that now houses the Jepson Winery offices. "Drive around just a couple of hours and you'll see a dozen deer, 15 pigs, 50 turkeys at least and quail, hundreds of them.
"It's because of conservation. We don't over hunt it and when we do hunt, we only take what we need."
In 1985, Bob and Alice Jepson of Savannah, Ga., bought the ranch that was originally set aside as a Mexican land grant in 1844. About four years ago, Bob Jepson sent his son, Scott, to run the operation.
"This is a special place," Scott Jepson says. "The amount of wildlife we have is amazing."
Scouting complete, the hunt will commence at dawn. The hunters will split into two groups, one set up against a debris pile made up of discarded vines and blown down oak branches, the other moving from a high ridge to a grassy knoll that overlooks acres of Chardonnay grapevines.
The plot twist
It's 5:30 a.m. and southbound commuters create a pre-dawn hum on Highway 101. Hunters draped in mossy oak-pattern camouflage wait for the first stirring sounds from the roosting turkeys.
At 5:56 a.m., a gobbler returns a yelp from a hen and the hunt is on.
"We'll set up down the ridge," says Hughes. "Chances are, they'll leave the roost and walk to the vineyard."
Along with Hughes is Scott Jepson and VanAntwerp, who carry cameras instead of shotguns, and an outdoor writer who has never bagged a gobbler. The group hunkers down under a grove of moss-covered oaks and the two hunters set up safe shooting lanes down the hillside.
Then the unexpected happens. Hughes — who called in Bob Jepson's first wild turkey on a hunt in Georgia years ago — makes a series of hen yelps with his mouth diaphragm call.
A moment later, the oaks overhead erupt with gobbles — at least nine big Toms and an unknown number of jakes and hens. The hunters have managed to set up directly under the birds, without spooking a single one off the roost.
"What a show," Hughes whispers. "That's so cool. I've been hunting a long time and I don't think I've ever been under a roost like that. So many birds and so loud."
"I know I've never heard or seen anything like that," Scott Jepson says. "That's exciting. That's the way to hunt."
Hughes works the call and bird after bird leaves the roost.
And each cruises 500 yards into the vineyard.
"Let's get down to that knoll by the tracks," Hughes says. "We'll just call them back in."
It's 6:21 a.m. and the air fills with the crackle of two successive shotgun blasts from over the next ridge.
"Well, either they got two, or one guy shot twice — and missed," Hughes says of the other hunting party. "I'm betting we've got birds on the ground."
There's no way to tell. The hunters slip silently down the ridge and ready two more safe shooting lanes.
The climax
It's after 7 a.m. and the hunters have yet to get any gobblers interested. Cammo masks are pulled off, hats are tipped back and gloves are removed. It's time to huddle.
"I think it's time to go congratulate the others," Hughes says. "Regroup, and think about a new setup."
Hughes lets off a few playful yelps and two jakes eagerly respond.
That changes everything.
The hunters slowly crouch down and try as best as they can to rearrange their cammo masks.
"Let's see if we can't get those jakes to get the gobblers excited," Hughes says. "Promise those Toms a good time."
The jakes pace back and forth in front of a six-foot-high deer fence. They're stumped on how to get over and Hughes makes a series of aggressive yelps and whelps.
In an instant, a large gobbler with two hens in tow darts over a hill and lets off a gobble that chases off the jakes. The Tom rares back, opens its wings and flies 20 yards over two fences.
It lands on a fallen oak limb.
Fifteen yards from the hunters.
And immediately realizes the mistake.
The Tom jumps from the log and tries to hide behind a worn fencepost.
"Kill it, Thom, kill IT!" Hughes urges in a sweet, Southern drawl. "Take the shot. Kill it! KILL IT!"
The bird continues to present about three-quarters of its head from behind the post. About the size of a pint beer glass, upended.
The oaks rumble from the 12-gauge shotgun blast, outfitted with a Super XX-choke that delivers a tight Federal Grand Slam load of No. 5 shot.
The bird drops, silent.
"That's one of the finest shots I've ever seen," Hughes says. "Fine, fine shooting."
"That boy just knew there was a hen up here," VanAntwerp says. "Damndest thing I've ever seen. Nothing was going to stop that old boy."
In the end, the hunters have taken three gobblers: 21 pounds, 19 pounds and 17 pounds.
Each beard, a benchmark of success in wild turkey hunting, measures more than a foot and is thick and lush. The spurs, another benchmark, are an inch long on each bird. The tail spreads are beautiful, a mix of golds, browns, oranges and blacks.
"It does not get any better than this," Hughes says. "Tomorrow, there's going to be a whole new pecking order in this roost."
Reporter Thom Gabrukiewicz can be reached at 225-8230 or at tgabrukiewicz@redding.com.
Turkeys pose plot twists, exciting climax to hunt
4/20/03
Thom Gabrukiewicz, Redding Record Searchlight
CALL OF THE WILD: Tom Hughes uses a mouth diaphragm call to entice wild turkey gobblers into a shooting lane during a spring turkey hunt at a Ukiah winery. Photo by Thom Gabrukiewicz
DISAPPEARING ACT: Ed Zieralski, left, of San Diego, and Hughes, of Edgefield, S.C., blend into the winery's surroundings to fool the wild turkeys. Photo by Thom Gabrukiewicz
SUCCESS: Jim Stengle of Ashland, Ore., Harry VanAntwerp of Ukiah and Jepson Winery manager Scott Jepson return to their vehicles after a morning of shooting on the Jepson ranch. The hunters bagged three gobblers. Photo by Thom Gabrukiewicz
UKIAH — If Hollywood ever wanted to relive the days when it made movies with benign critters bent on world domination, the 1,240-acre Jepson Winery could serve as a lush backdrop for location shots.
Rows of wine grapes stretch from Highway 101 to the Russian River. Rolling, oak-studded hills give way to high chaparral habitat.
California quail scurry through the tall grass in bobbling hordes. Blacktail deer crash through stunted live oak and manzanita on the sound of advancing Jeeps. Wild pigs rise secretly from hollows to root through fields at dusk.
Wild turkeys strut through rows upon rows of grapes that will soon be made into fine Chardonnays, Merlots, Zinfandels and 20-year-old signature reserve Alambic brandy that's specially blended and bottled for one noteworthy customer — retired Gen. Norman Schwarzkopf.
For a few lucky hunters, a day on the Jepson ranch is like a day on a movie set, where magic can be made. And the hunters win.
Call it "Day of the Gobbler."
Reviews give the experience two thumbs up — and five stars.
"I turn 53 years old next weekend and I've been hunting all my life," says Harry VanAntwerp, a Ukiah mechanic who also helps with security on the ranch/winery. "But that's the first turkey hunt I've been on.
"I mean, I've shot a lot of turkeys, but that's the first true hunt I've been on. Fantastic, truly fantastic."
The establishing shot
VanAntwerp's Jeep Wrangler rumbles down a pitted dirt road that separates the Russian river from fields of Viongier and Chardonnay grapevines. An old railroad bed, complete with rusty rails, further splits the ranch from the drone of traffic on Highway 101.
"Hold on, look down the row there," he says. "Big gobblers."
Five hunters have stuffed themselves into VanAntwerp's Jeep; five sets of field glasses are trained on the dark specks moving down a row.
"Look at the beard on that one," says Tom Hughes, a wildlife biologist with the National Wild Turkey Federation's Wild Turkey Center in Edgefield, S.C. "It's dragging on the ground. These birds will go 20 pounds, no problem."
It's like that for the two hours it takes to circle just a small portion of the ranch's vines. Row after row of grapevine holds clusters of gobblers, jakes (immature males) and dun-colored hens.
"I've never seen a ranch like this one, and I've been here all my life," VanAntwerp says as he brings the Jeep to a halt at the Victorian farmhouse that now houses the Jepson Winery offices. "Drive around just a couple of hours and you'll see a dozen deer, 15 pigs, 50 turkeys at least and quail, hundreds of them.
"It's because of conservation. We don't over hunt it and when we do hunt, we only take what we need."
In 1985, Bob and Alice Jepson of Savannah, Ga., bought the ranch that was originally set aside as a Mexican land grant in 1844. About four years ago, Bob Jepson sent his son, Scott, to run the operation.
"This is a special place," Scott Jepson says. "The amount of wildlife we have is amazing."
Scouting complete, the hunt will commence at dawn. The hunters will split into two groups, one set up against a debris pile made up of discarded vines and blown down oak branches, the other moving from a high ridge to a grassy knoll that overlooks acres of Chardonnay grapevines.
The plot twist
It's 5:30 a.m. and southbound commuters create a pre-dawn hum on Highway 101. Hunters draped in mossy oak-pattern camouflage wait for the first stirring sounds from the roosting turkeys.
At 5:56 a.m., a gobbler returns a yelp from a hen and the hunt is on.
"We'll set up down the ridge," says Hughes. "Chances are, they'll leave the roost and walk to the vineyard."
Along with Hughes is Scott Jepson and VanAntwerp, who carry cameras instead of shotguns, and an outdoor writer who has never bagged a gobbler. The group hunkers down under a grove of moss-covered oaks and the two hunters set up safe shooting lanes down the hillside.
Then the unexpected happens. Hughes — who called in Bob Jepson's first wild turkey on a hunt in Georgia years ago — makes a series of hen yelps with his mouth diaphragm call.
A moment later, the oaks overhead erupt with gobbles — at least nine big Toms and an unknown number of jakes and hens. The hunters have managed to set up directly under the birds, without spooking a single one off the roost.
"What a show," Hughes whispers. "That's so cool. I've been hunting a long time and I don't think I've ever been under a roost like that. So many birds and so loud."
"I know I've never heard or seen anything like that," Scott Jepson says. "That's exciting. That's the way to hunt."
Hughes works the call and bird after bird leaves the roost.
And each cruises 500 yards into the vineyard.
"Let's get down to that knoll by the tracks," Hughes says. "We'll just call them back in."
It's 6:21 a.m. and the air fills with the crackle of two successive shotgun blasts from over the next ridge.
"Well, either they got two, or one guy shot twice — and missed," Hughes says of the other hunting party. "I'm betting we've got birds on the ground."
There's no way to tell. The hunters slip silently down the ridge and ready two more safe shooting lanes.
The climax
It's after 7 a.m. and the hunters have yet to get any gobblers interested. Cammo masks are pulled off, hats are tipped back and gloves are removed. It's time to huddle.
"I think it's time to go congratulate the others," Hughes says. "Regroup, and think about a new setup."
Hughes lets off a few playful yelps and two jakes eagerly respond.
That changes everything.
The hunters slowly crouch down and try as best as they can to rearrange their cammo masks.
"Let's see if we can't get those jakes to get the gobblers excited," Hughes says. "Promise those Toms a good time."
The jakes pace back and forth in front of a six-foot-high deer fence. They're stumped on how to get over and Hughes makes a series of aggressive yelps and whelps.
In an instant, a large gobbler with two hens in tow darts over a hill and lets off a gobble that chases off the jakes. The Tom rares back, opens its wings and flies 20 yards over two fences.
It lands on a fallen oak limb.
Fifteen yards from the hunters.
And immediately realizes the mistake.
The Tom jumps from the log and tries to hide behind a worn fencepost.
"Kill it, Thom, kill IT!" Hughes urges in a sweet, Southern drawl. "Take the shot. Kill it! KILL IT!"
The bird continues to present about three-quarters of its head from behind the post. About the size of a pint beer glass, upended.
The oaks rumble from the 12-gauge shotgun blast, outfitted with a Super XX-choke that delivers a tight Federal Grand Slam load of No. 5 shot.
The bird drops, silent.
"That's one of the finest shots I've ever seen," Hughes says. "Fine, fine shooting."
"That boy just knew there was a hen up here," VanAntwerp says. "Damndest thing I've ever seen. Nothing was going to stop that old boy."
In the end, the hunters have taken three gobblers: 21 pounds, 19 pounds and 17 pounds.
Each beard, a benchmark of success in wild turkey hunting, measures more than a foot and is thick and lush. The spurs, another benchmark, are an inch long on each bird. The tail spreads are beautiful, a mix of golds, browns, oranges and blacks.
"It does not get any better than this," Hughes says. "Tomorrow, there's going to be a whole new pecking order in this roost."
Reporter Thom Gabrukiewicz can be reached at 225-8230 or at tgabrukiewicz@redding.com.
