The Bowhunter Featured Articles
“THE JAKE”
By Ray Baranczyk
Long Story Short…
Arrived at blind in the dark
Shot a jake at 6:30 but did not kill it.
The jake ran off.
I had to go to work (i.e., teach a class) around 8 a.m. without harvesting the bird.
Returned to the field around 9:30, I found the bird, but it ran off again.
Found the bird in a cedar tree, but it ran off again.
Followed the bird into a cedar swamp and finally harvested it around 11 a.m.
Field dressed the bird, packed it with ice.
I had to return to work before noon to teach another class.
Had to take the track team to a meet.
I returned home after 8 p.m. and cleaned the bird.
And Now… For the Fleshed-Out Story
Every bow hunt is an adventure, some days more than others. I personally really enjoy the challenge of bow hunting, so the bow is my weapon of choice even while turkey hunting. With patience and a lot of luck, I have scored a gobbler in each of the last six seasons. With that, every bird creates a special memory. One thing I have discovered is that rarely do the birds go down immediately, flopping on the ground right in front of me like we all see on TV. Instead, at least in my experience, most of the time, my birds either fly or run away. Then comes the game of finding a needle in the middle of the woods.
This bowhunting adventure took place on the second to last day of my spring turkey hunt. At the time, I was a semi-retired teacher and the head varsity track coach at a local high school. Since my first class started at 8:00 a.m. and my hunting spot was only 10 minutes away from the school, I had the opportunity to turkey hunt mornings before going to class.
This particular morning started out like most others-cold and quiet. Around 6:30, I was in my tent, pouring a coffee from my thermos when I looked up and saw 4 jakes in my decoys 20 yards away. A few birds had gobbled earlier, but nothing had shown any interest. In fact, prior to pouring coffee, I had scanned the area and did not hear or see anything; the four jakes simply appeared out of nowhere. Upon seeing the jakes, I was pretty startled but immediately went into hunting mode. I set down my coffee, picked up my bow, and put my sight on the best bird in the group. Turkeys are tough to get within bow range and I decided a long time ago that I would take a jake if it presented an opportunity. I released the arrow and saw that I had a nice hit. As usual, at least for me, this bird did not flop around and die, instead, it hobbled away about 20 yards and laid down. So, not wanting to spook the bird, I waited and watched. That looked really promising until a big gobbler came in. Spotting the jake, the gobbler ran after it and chased my bird away.
This is where things started to get interesting. It was now after 7am and I had a class to teach in less than an hour. In that time, I had to get out of the woods, drive to school, get out of my camo and dress for class. I proceeded to mark where I last saw my jake and went to school with the intention of returning shortly after and finding my bird. My class lasted until 9:15 and my next class did not start until around noon, so I had a few hours after my first class to go back out to locate my bird.
Kids have a tough time concentrating in class, and on this day, I sure could relate. Despite those exciting lesson plans, it felt like this class took an eternity and I was even having a difficult time focusing. The bell ending class was still ringing in my ears as I hurriedly put my camo back on and was back out the door with high hopes.
Once back in the field, I discovered that the jake had run through a plantation of small pines. I then spotted the jake on the edge of another field. I was elated, thinking he was dead since I thought I had a decent hit on him. Unfortunately, that feeling did not last long. As I approached him, the bird jumped up and across the field he went. I lost sight of him as he ran over a small hill toward a cedar swamp. Watching this made my heart sink. In my experiences with well hit deer, my mind told me that bird should have been dead by now. But obviously, turkeys are not deer. Cautiously, I eased over the hill and spotted the jake perched on the branch of a fallen cedar about 6 feet off of the ground. I proceeded to get within 15 yards of the bird, but I could not ethically launch an arrow toward the swamp without a predictable backstop, so I continued inching toward the jake in the hopes of getting a safe shot. All I proceeded to do was startle him; he leaped off the branch and ran into the swamp. As he did this, I lost sight of him but had a bead on the direction he was headed. One thing about this swamp is that it is thick with blow downs; I mean really thick. Walking through it with a bow is tough. But like I said earlier, a lot of my success bowhunting has been due to luck as well as stubborn determination. As I stalked through the swamp, I once again caught sight of the bird. It was taking refuge behind the root ball of a blown down cedar right next to a tiny, muddy stream of water. I had a tough time crawling around the cedar trash looking for a clear shot. I finally managed to get within 10 yards and was able to dispatch the bird with a nice shot where the neck meets the body. Well actually, in all honesty, it took three misses first and I fortunately connected with my last arrow. This was not a big bird and I did not want to put another arrow into the body, so I aimed for its neck and finally connected. This, however, is when the bird started to flop around in its death dance and of course, it flopped around in the creek, getting all wet and muddy. I mean really soaking wet and really muddy. But I did not care. I was elated that I had my bird! It was now after 11 a.m. and I had to rush back to school for my second class.
I proceeded to quickly field dress the bird and rushed back to school. It was a fairly warm day, so I got a cooler from the football program, packed the cavity of the bird with a bag of ice from the school kitchen and hurried off to class.
The story does not quite end there though. As I mentioned earlier, I am the head track coach and on this day, I had to take the team to a meet after school. That meant I could not completely take care of my bird until I finally got home after 8 p.m. As I started to skin the bird out, I found it to be in good shape because I had packed it full of ice. (Oh, by the way, the football department did not mind that I used one of their coolers, since I was also at that time the head football coach! (Executive privilege? Maybe).
With my bird harvested and a day of teaching and coaching in the books, I sat down for a celebratory drink, a quick meal accompanied by the exhilarating feeling of success.
The following day, I ground up the breasts and thighs for turkey burgers and put the legs in the slow cooker. They turned out great. The jake weighed 12 pounds and had a 3” beard. Not a huge bird by any means, but every bird is a trophy, especially when harvested with a bow. This trophy is definitely one of my most memorable adventures.
Sharing the Love of the Great Outdoors
By Tina Lechner
To all the parents, grandparents, mentors, and friends who have shared their love of the outdoors with the next generation—thank you. The lessons passed along in the woods, by the water, or beneath an open sky, are gifts that last a lifetime.
For my Mom, life was always guided by three things: faith, family, and her deep love for the great outdoors. I suspect many of you reading this can relate. Mom’s faith was her compass, quietly shaping how she lived and how she treated others. Family meant everything to her—and that word extended far beyond blood relatives. Close friends were welcomed and cherished just the same as immediate family.
Growing up, my brother and I were rarely inside, unless it was raining or time for dinner. Mom believed the best place for kids was outside. I did not realize it until I was older, but I now realize how blessed I was to have parents who gave their children so many opportunities to enjoy outdoor activities. Looking back, those days spent outdoors shaped who we became far more than we ever realized at the time.
Some of my earliest hunting memories come from the edges of the Horicon Marsh. Before I was old enough to hunt myself, I would sit in a tree not far from where my mom was hunting. I spent hours simply being there, watching, listening, and learning. Those quiet mornings and evenings planted the seeds of a lifelong appreciation for the natural world.
There are many people who never experience the simple joy of walking through the woods and spotting the fresh tracks of a deer or a turkey in the mud or snow. For my Mom, that thrill never faded. She often walked with her head down, studying the ground, eager to be the first to point out a new track or sign of wildlife. Every trip outside was an adventure.
My Mom never missed a chance to sit in her favorite stand. After every outing, we would get the full report—updates on the chickadees, squirrels, turkeys, and deer that had passed by. It did not matter if she harvested an animal or not; being there was the reward for her. Mom was just as excited to hear the hunting reports from her family and friends as she was about her own.
In a world that often feels rushed and chaotic, I am grateful for the peace that comes from time spent outdoors. Whether it is fishing a quiet lake, bowhunting on a crisp fall morning, practicing archery, or simply taking a walk through the woods, fresh air has a way of restoring the soul.
My Mom also loved sharing her passion for bowhunting with others. Wherever she met a fellow bowhunter, she would always ask if they were familiar with the Wisconsin Bowhunters Association. If they were not already members, there was a good chance they would be by the time she finished talking with them. She took great pride in telling people about everything the organization has done for bowhunters in Wisconsin and the role it continues to play in protecting and promoting the sport.
Passing along a love for the outdoors is one of the most meaningful legacies we can leave behind. It teaches patience, respect for nature, and the value of quiet moments. More importantly, it creates memories that stay with us forever.
So, take a child hunting or maybe Invite a friend for a walk in the woods; you never know which small moment might spark a lifelong passion. And who knows, somewhere along the way, those moments may just become the memories they cherish most.
Thanks, Mom, for sharing your love for God’s beautiful creation.
Until we meet again.
Love,
Tina
