13 Shocking Facts About Lightning Before You Go Out Fishing

13 Shocking Facts About Lightning Before You Go Out Fishing

Lightning, which does strike in the same place twice, can literally knock your socks off and change your personality

Lightning is much simpler than people realize. It’s nothing more than a brilliant, naturally occurring electrostatic discharge in which two electrically charged regions in the atmosphere or on the ground temporarily equalize themselves, causing the release of up to a billion joules of energy. There. Aren’t you glad you asked?

Myths abound about lightning. It does strike the same place twice. It is not attracted to metal. And if you want to get hit by it, Florida is a swell place to go. Where myths abound, so do surprising facts. Here are 13 things you probably didn’t know about lightning, a few of which could save your life, or at least win you a few bucks.

1. Lightning does not come from the sky.

We all think of lightning as nature’s air-to-ground missiles, but it's actually the other way. The negative charge preceding a lightning strike hits the earth—or an earth-bound object like a tower—and then a visible flash zooms from the ground up. This takes place in a millionth of a second, so it’s kind of hard to tell which way the strike is actually moving. But it’s generally up. This could help you win a bar bet.

2. Men are nearly four times more likely to be killed by lightning than women.

That’s bad news for guys, but in this case, it has nothing to do with feminism. It’s because men spend more time outdoors, especially fishing, which turns out to be a great way to get zapped. According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, between 2006 and 2016, 33 people were hit by lightning while fishing, more than any other outdoor activity. Think about it: You’re out on the water with nowhere to take shelter, and you’re the tallest thing around. If you were lightning, you’d hit a fisherman, too.

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On the water is no place to be during a lightning storm. David Mark/Pixabay

3. Lightning is not attracted to metal.

Lightning is attracted to the tallest thing around, which often happens to be metal. Think field-goal posts, TV towers, and the top eyelet of a fishing rod while casting in a boat on a lake. Metal does, however, conduct electricity efficiently, which is why you shouldn’t climb a field-goal post during a lightning storm or lick a downed electrical wire, even if there is no lightning.

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Lightning is attracted not to metal but generally to the tallest thing in a given area. skeeze/Pixabay

4. Rubber doesn’t protect you from lightning strikes.

Wearing rubber boots, for example, doesn’t reduce your odds of being struck and won’t make things any less excruciating if you do get hit. Same goes for car tires. The reason a car is a good place to be in a storm is because the metal top and sides conduct the electricity around you and into the ground. If you’re in a car, the best thing to do is pull over, turn off the engine, and don’t touch anything metallic in the car. Just keep your damn hands to yourself.

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These won’t protect you from lightning, but they’ll keep your feet dry during the storm. LaCrosse

5. The best place to get struck by lightning in the U.S. is Florida.

Of the 15 U.S. counties with the most lightning strikes, 14 are in Florida. It makes sense. Geographically, the place has water on three sides. Meteorologically, it has a subtropical climate, with almost daily thunderstorms. Behaviorally, it has lots of dudes fishing, some of whom are drinking beer, which does not increase common sense. “Lightning Alley” between Orlando and Tampa is a particularly good place if you have limited time and want to maximize your odds.

6. Your odds of surviving a lightning strike in the U.S. are about 90 percent.

This is in part because CPR is so widely practiced here. On average about 51 Americans die from strikes annually, although the total has decreased in recent years. Just 16 people were killed by lightning in 2017. The Guinness World Record for being struck belongs to the late Roy Sullivan, a U.S. Park Ranger in Shenandoah National Park. He was struck seven times—the odds of which are 1 in 10 to the 28th power. He survived them all and lived a more or less normal existence until he took his life at the age of 71.

7. Thunder and lightning are the same thing, kind of.

Thunder is the sound lightning makes. Okay, pay attention, because this is the science part. Lightning is a stream of electrons flowing between or within clouds, or between a cloud and the ground. The electrons heat the air around them to 50,000 degrees Fahrenheit, hotter than any Big Green Egg. As the hot air cools, it creates a “resonating tube of partial vacuum surrounding the lightning’s path,” according to Scientific American. The rapidly expanding and contracting air in the tube makes a big cracking sound. As the cracking-sound vibrations die out, they rumble. Thunder can be heard as far as 10 miles away.

8. Your odds of being struck by lightning are probably going up.

Currently, your odds of being struck in a given year are about 1 in 1.2 million, and about 1 in 15,000 during your lifetime, according to the National Weather Service. Yet astraphobia—the fear of being struck—is one of the most common phobias in America. But the odds are likely going up. The cause? Climate change, just like everything else. A study in Science magazine predicts that for every degree of global temperature increase, the number of lightning strikes increases by 6 percent.

9. You can be killed by lightning while standing beneath a clear blue sky.

Lightning can strike up to 10 miles away from a thunderstorm. A lightning bolt is about an inch wide in diameter and can be as much as 90 miles long, according to researcher Martin Uman, author of All About Lightning.

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A bolt from the blue. PublicDomainPictures/Pixabay

10. Lightning can literally knock your socks off.

The blast of superheated air that accompanies a lightning strike can cause clothing to explode off your body. Lightning can also turn the sweat on your body to steam, giving you third-degree burns. (The sudden expansion of sap is what occasionally causes trees to explode when hit.) Blood vessels may rupture, leading to a temporary scarring pattern known as Lichtenberg figures.

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Trees can explode when struck by lightning. PublicDomainPictures/Pixabay

11. Electricity can save the life of a lightning-strike victim.

Strikes most often kill because the massive electrical discharge stops a victim’s heart. Paradoxically, what the unconscious victim may need most is a second shock from a defibrillator to restart the heart. Victims have likened the pain of a strike to being stung from the inside by a thousand hornets or being inside a microwave oven. 

12. Lightning often strikes the same place twice—or much more than twice.

This myth is regularly proven wrong when a strong storm passes over very tall buildings or TV towers, which can be hit multiple times in a single weather event. Each year, New York’s Empire State Building is struck anywhere from 25 to 100 times.

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It’s not uncommon for lightning to strike a tall building more than once during a single storm. Image by Kevin Phillips from Pixabay

13. Lightning can change your personality.

In a Psychology Today blog post, University of Miami neuroscientists tell of an orthopedic surgeon who, after being struck by lightning, developed an urge to play the piano. A few months later he gave up medicine to become a classical musician. This was almost certainly a great disappointment to his parents.

Written by Bill Heavey for Field & Stream and legally licensed through the Matcha publisher network. Please direct all licensing questions to legal@getmatcha.com.

Featured image provided by Field & Stream

A Father-Son Flyfishing Trip In Montana

A Father-Son Flyfishing Trip In Montana

I’m gonna ferry across the river,” my guide said. “Some pocket water I want you to hit.”

“Sounds good,” I replied.

I gazed downstream. Montana’s Bighorn River is big water, but it was flowing higher than usual, and I hadn’t seen much of what I’d call “pocket water” yet. But I kept my eyes open and my mouth shut. It was too early in the float to question the guide. What I did see, however, was a dark gravel bar rising under the drift boat and a plume of water pouring over the ledge into a deep green hole the size of my front yard. I didn’t want to scuttle the guide’s float plan, but I wasn’t going to pass up a giant fishy-looking lair either.

I cast a white articulated fly my guide had handed me earlier, and dropped it into the billowing pillow of water above the gravel bar. The leechlike blob rode the flow like a kid on a pool slide—I could see why he called his creation the Wet Sock—but the second it sank to the green abyss below, a fish hit and bent the rod. Not bad when the first fish of the day is a Bighorn brown trout just a smidge over 16 inches.

“Heck yeah, man!” my guide hollered. “I’ve been thinking about that pocket ever since we put in.”

That’s when I nearly stuck my foot in my mouth. You call that pocket water? I thought. But the guide was my son, Jack, and we had gone a first hour without a fish—and to be honest, neither of us were sure how this day trip was going to pan out.

Jack had just spent a week at Sweet­water Guide School, a hands-on, dawn-to-dark boot camp for aspiring guides. It was his high-school graduation gift—learning how to row a drift boat and field-fix a jet outboard and calm down cranky anglers. Jack had fallen in love with flyfishing when he was 14 years old, wading Montana’s Gallatin River. Over the next few years, he pelted guides with relentless questioning from Maine to the Florida Keys. One June, on Idaho’s South Fork of the Snake River, he heard that college students worked Western rivers over their summer breaks, shuttling boats and guiding. That was the end of his future as a summer lawn-care consultant. With his Sweetwater course now over, he’d bummed a drift boat from an instructor, and I was his first real client.

“Thank you, Lord,” Jack said. “I’m not going to lie to you, Daddy. I was getting pretty nervous until you caught that fish.”

“You’re not the only one, son,” I said. “And we need to talk about your idea of pocket water.”

Wild West

When Jack walked out from under the tall Bighorn cottonwoods at the Sweetwater school base camp, I hadn’t seen him for a week, but I could tell from his loping gait that Montana had changed him—that a week on the river had given him passage of a sort that he could not yet understand but that I could not deny. He’d been bitten by the West, and wherever his river would run in the future, it would run far from home for at least a portion of his life. This is the cruel contract of parenthood: Give them roots and wings, then pray that the former hold as your child spreads the latter in relentless freedom.

With the monkey off our backs, we settled in for perhaps the finest afternoon of fishing I’ve ever had. Jack held me in the current seam as I worked the fly all the way down the gravel bar, cast by cast. We caught fish at Grey Cliffs and Suck Hole and Mike’s Cabin, and we whooped it up with every strike. Did you see that? Holy cow, man, did you see that?

Jack spoke of these places like he might describe the local parks up the street back home. He was fully immersed in the magic of Montana, the fish and the river and the wild country, as the wild dreams of a 14-year-old were coming true right in front of him.

It was just one of those days that leaves you shaking your head and checking your heart. We all get them occasionally, moments in the field when you know that this is one you will carry to your grave. The fish were biting like crazy, yes, and their runs seemed stronger and their spots more finely chiseled than ever in the Bighorn light. But more than the fishing, it was the first day that we’d floated as equals, and the sadness that came with the loss of my little boy was baptized in the gratitude that from this day forward, I would fish and hunt with this man in the boat.

Big Finish

By midafternoon, we didn’t have much longer to fish. Soon Jack would have to hit the oars hard; we had a six-hour drive to Missoula still ahead of us. But then he slowed the boat one last time.

“I want you to hit that log,” he said. “See it?”

“I think so.” It was a giant sculpture of twisted driftwood, 8 feet tall, at least. Who could miss it? But as my mouth opened for a wisecrack, my guide tucked me into range. My first cast brought a ferocious slash from the largest trout we’d seen all day, but the heavy water carried the drift boat too swiftly for a second crack.

Jack slipped overboard and pulled the drift boat 30 feet upcurrent. “I’ll hold the boat,” he said. “You just catch the fish.”

We pulled two more fish from the hole, the second one running wild like a puppy in the yard. The water likely spent, Jack pulled himself back in the boat, rowed clear of the swift current, then stowed the oars and leaned back, soaking in the sun, the moment, the river, and his future, which unfurled just about as far as the next bend in the Bighorn. If there is a finer thing than to be 17 years old on a Montana river, I can only barely imagine what that might be.

“I don’t know, Daddy,” he said, kicking his Chaco-clad feet on the cooler. He grinned over a grimy sun buff and stroked a 15-day-old beard that I could actually make out in the right slant of sunlight. “I’m thinking of keeping the ’stache, at least. Think I can pull it off?”

I started to taste my foot again, but caught myself in time. I reckon if there’s anywhere in this world that a young man can still dream, it’s Montana.

Written by T. Edward Nickens for Field & Stream and legally licensed through the Matcha publisher network. Please direct all licensing questions to legal@getmatcha.com.

Featured image provided by Field & Stream

Never Lose Another Fish Fight Again

Never Lose Another Fish Fight Again

Knots fail. Leaders snap. Lures pop free. Whatever the reason, if you spend enough time on the water, you’re going to lose fish—probably some big ones to boot. Even the pros suffer break-offs.

But not too often, because they learn from their mistakes. Here, six of the best share some of those painful lessons so you’re never deprived of another grip-and-grin shot again.

Largemouth Bass

A trophy largemouth takes flight.
. Field & Stream

Guide: Bernie Schultz

Home Waters: North-Central Florida

Credentials: Pro for more than 35 years

Tough Break: On the final day of a big BASS tournament on Florida’s Lake Okeechobee, Schultz was in position to take first place and walk away with the prize money. “I had a strong bite going,” he says, “working a Rapala minnow far ahead of the boat, in a boat trail that cut through a massive field of mixed ­vegetation—pads, grass, and reeds. Then I hooked a huge female largemouth that headed straight for cover to bury herself deep in dollar pads.”

Instead of going toward the fish, Schultz tried to yank the lunker free—and his 14-pound mono snapped. “It was a rookie mistake,” he says. “That fish would have won me the event.”

Lesson Learned: “Often, bass anglers after big fish are flipping in heavy cover,” Schultz says. “That frequently leads to fish that become caught in matted milfoil, lily pads, reeds, or flotsam. That’s when many anglers tend to do the wrong thing—trying to muscle a trophy bass out of the cover. Rarely does anything good happen from that.”

In fact, Schultz goes on to explain, when a largemouth bass is pinned in the weeds, that can work to your advantage. “For some reason,” he says, “when they’re stuck, big fish often stop thrashing and just sort of sit there.”

Seeing the fish and its situation can allow a fisherman or his partner to reach down and get a good hold on the largemouth. Of course, bass are often hooked in relatively open water. That’s when Schultz’s other go-to tip for fighting trophy fish comes into play. “Anytime during the fight you feel that fish rising to the surface like it’s going to jump,” he says, “get your rod tip in the water.” Doing this rolls the fish downward and keeps it from breaking the surface—and possibly spitting the lure. But Schultz adds that you shouldn’t “bow to the king,” as anglers do for leaping tarpon. Instead, keep the line tight as you dip the rod.

Steelhead

Steelhead put up tremendous flights.
. Field & Stream

Guide: Frank Campbell

Home Waters: Niagara Region of Lake Erie and Lake Ontario, and the Niagara River

Credentials: Guide for 30 years

Tough Break: Frank Campbell recalls a day on the Niagara River nearly 20 years ago. He and a friend were catching steelhead on light lines, 6- and 8-pound-test, and with very small Rapala Origi­nal Floating Minnows. Late in the day, Campbell’s buddy hooked a solid fish. “But by that time, we were drifting toward a really turbulent stretch,” Campbell says, “and we saw that it was a big fish, probably 23 pounds.” With the boat spinning in the rushing current, the angler tried to put some heat on the monster. When one of the lure’s hook points snagged in the net’s mesh, the big fish—not yet tired out—thrashed enough to tear loose and was gone.

Lesson Learned: Looking back on that memorable failure, Campbell says the current really forced their hand. Normally, when fishing calmer water, he reminds his anglers to slow things down and finesse the fight whenever they hook big fish. “I’ve landed brown trout more than 30 pounds on little lines like that by taking my time,” he says. If they’d been able to take their time in this case, Campbell is nearly certain they would’ve landed the tired fish. Campbell notes that most anglers have a natural inclination to try a bit too hard, particularly when they know a steelhead or any trout could be a trophy and much is at stake. “Don’t rush it, and you’ll land that fish,” Campbell says. “More big fish are lost when an angler tries to rush them to the net than for any other reason.” He also believes the loss of that fish might have been avoided if they had upsized the hooks on the small lures that were proving successful. Larger hooks would’ve ensured more purchase in the big fish’s mouth, which might have kept that trophy buttoned on when it thrashed at the net.

Walleyes

To land big walleyes, it helps to have a net with a long handle.
. Field & Stream

Guide: Ross Robertson

Home Waters: Lake Erie, Ohio

Credentials: Guide for more than 20 years

Tough Break: Robertson and a friend had lucked into a school of giant walleyes. They’d already caught 23 fish over 10 pounds when both anglers hooked up again. As Robertson netted his, a 14-pounder, he saw his partner’s walleye near the boat—and it was much bigger. “The biggest walleye I’ve ever seen,” he says. Robertson called out, “Stand by! I’m trying to get this fish free of the net!” Just about then, he heard his buddy’s lure whack the outboard cowling after it flew out of the immense fish’s mouth.

Lesson Learned: Looking back, Robertson wishes he’d reminded his partner to go slower in getting the fish to the net. “As anglers, we tend to push fish too much to get them to the boat,” he says, “especially when we see a big one.” Given how hard the lure struck the motor when it popped out, he’s positive that his buddy put too much pressure on the fish.

“Giant walleyes often fight very little, so a fresh trophy can catch us off guard when it suddenly comes alive at the boat,” he says. Robertson adds that although braided line was key to getting deep for the bite, its lack of stretch also requires more vigilance on the part of an angler when fighting a fish. Since that loss of a possible record walleye, Robertson now keeps two nets on board. He makes sure those nets are big, with wide mesh, which creates less drag in the water. And they should have long handles. A 9-foot handle, for example, allows you to reach out and net the fish sooner than you could with a 3-footer. Reaching a fish that much sooner could make the difference between a fish in the net and a potentially perilous boatside lunge.

Channel Catfish

A fat cat gets released.
. Field & Stream

Guide: Brad Durick

Home Waters: Red River in North Dakota

Credentials: Guide for 12 years

Tough Break: Before he set out lines on the Red River, Durick reminded the lone fisherman on his boat not to try to set the hook, since the baits were all rigged on circle hooks. Unfortunately, that message didn’t get through. A rod next to Durick’s client started to bend suddenly under what the guide says was an enormous strike. Before Durick could react, the fisherman reached out and in one motion jerked back with everything he had. But missing the huge catfish wasn’t the end of it. In his rush, the client failed to get a good grip on Durick’s brand-new rod and reel, which launched out of the angler’s hands and fell into the river.

Lesson Learned: Durick rigs his baits only with circle hooks—quite successfully for channel cats—so he emphasizes the importance of waiting for the fishing rod to load up, then keeping it tight and just cranking. Most of the time, you’ll hook the fish. He also recommends using hooks with a gap wide enough to clear the bottom jaw. He explains that catfish tend to pick up a bait and squeeze it in a way that hinders the corner-of-the-jaw set. If the circle hook is large enough, it’ll pierce the bottom of the fish’s mouth for a more secure hookset.

“I’ve had lots of people complain to me of missing hookups,” Durick says. “It turns out this is because their hooks were too small.” And once someone’s got a giant catfish on the line, Durick says he is “constantly preaching the need to keep the fish turned away from the boat when they get the fish close. Don’t let a big catfish get under the boat. It might tangle in an outboard’s lower unit, plus once it’s under the boat, a big cat is harder to net.”

Muskies

Muskie strikes are so rare that you'd better fight the fish just right to bring it to the boat.
. Field & Stream

Guide: Steve Scepaniak

Home Waters: Mille Lacs Lake, Minnesota

Credentials: Guide for 28 years

Tough Break: Scepaniak was taking two anglers, Brad and Tom, to a spot on Mille Lacs Lake where he’d seen a huge muskie just a few days earlier. Sure enough, as Brad made a figure eight with a big spinnerbait near the boat, a giant muskie inhaled his lure. The fish cleared the water four times as Brad kept steady pressure and lowered the rod each time—until the fish’s fifth leap, when the rod stayed horizontal. The muskie shook its head one way, and the lure flew the other.

But the heartbreak didn’t end with that first lost muskie. Later on that day, Tom failed to set the hook on a fish when he thought his lure had just snagged some weeds. That mistake cost the anglers their second ­giant of the day.

Lesson Learned: Scepaniak says the loss of those two monster muskies illustrates his two fundamental rules when it comes to hooking and holding onto big muskies. “First, set the hook on everything and anything,” he says. While we’d love every strike to be a rod-thumping whack, ­Scepaniak says that most muskie strikes will be more tap than wallop, and if a lure doesn’t feel right, “they can spit it out in a fraction of a second.” So, the instant the angler feels resistance, he or she has to react with a strong hookset to penetrate the bone-hard mouth of a muskellunge.

Second, when a fish is coming out of the water during a jump—­Scepaniak says that 80 percent of muskies will jump during a fight—­anglers should keep that rod down and not stop cranking. Conversely, he advises anglers to remember to get the rod up when that big fish goes back down.

Had Brad and Tom remembered those two rules, ­Scepaniak says, and had the fish stayed hooked, he would have advised them of his third rule: Back off the drag, particularly if you’re fishing with braided line.

Tarpon

Tarpon will often just and shake their head to shake off a lure or fly.
. Field & Stream

Guide: Mark Bennett

Home Waters: Southwest Florida

Credentials: Guide for 48 years

Tough Break: At the end of a long and so-far-fishless day, outside of famed Boca Grande Pass, one of Bennett’s anglers finally brought a good tarpon, in the 100- to 150-pound range, boatside. “As soon as I grabbed the leader, out of nowhere, a 15-foot hammerhead raised its front half out of the water, like in the movie Jaws, and grabbed that tarpon,” Bennett says. “His hammer actually whacked my hand. It was that close.” The huge shark began shaking the tarpon back and forth into the side of the boat, using the boat for leverage as it shredded the fish, until both shark and tarpon were gone.

Lesson Learned: Big sharks, primarily hammerheads and bulls, are a fact of life for tarpon enthusiasts who fish in Southwest Florida. When encounters with sharks do happen, the concern is less about landing a tarpon to score a release than it is about saving the fish, and Bennett has become an expert at that. Hammerheads—with a dorsal fin sometimes taller than the bow of his skiff—often show themselves before launching a tarpon attack. Big bull sharks, however, are notorious for staying down and suddenly grabbing a fish near the boat. Bennett relies on side-imaging sonar to scan the area while an angler fights a tarpon. “If I spot a big shark moving in,” he says, “I’ll break the line to let the tarpon go while it still might have a chance.” Or, if a tarpon is already at the boat and Bennett sees a shark, he’ll keep the tarpon close to the boat while he motors to shallower water, where he’ll revive and release the fish.

Written by Doug Olander for Field & Stream and legally licensed through the Matcha publisher network. Please direct all licensing questions to legal@getmatcha.com.

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Tip of the Spur: New Cutting-Edge Turkey Tactics

Tip of the Spur: New Cutting-Edge Turkey Tactics

The tips, gear, and hunting strategies you need to have your most successful and wildest turkey season ever

On the cutting edge of turkey hunting, the most obsessed gobbler fanatics are pushing the boundaries to be more successful and have more fun. Today’s trendsetters are toting crossbows and .410s, pressing their own mouth calls, tackling tough public birds by choice, busting birds on purpose, and generally doing whatever they can to make the madness of spring last a little longer. If you want in, these are the hot tactics, tricks, and gear you need to try.

Game Changer: Carry a .410

Yes, carrying a .410 to the turkey woods is now a thing. Guys do it to prove they’re good, and the successful ones can teach you a thing or two about getting super-close to gobblers.

Even with quality loads, a .410 shotgun forces you to get pretty tight to a tom. But a couple of springs ago, Realtree’s Phillip Culpepper took the small-bore trend to the extreme and set the online turkey crowd abuzz when he killed an Osceola longbeard on camera with a Taurus Judge .410 revolver. “Shooting at a pie plate, the pattern started getting sketchy at seven steps,” he says. “So I knew I’d have to get close.” For that, he used a specialized reaping tactic. All the usual open-field safety rules apply.

Beat It

Culpepper uses a Flextone Thunder Chicken, which is a compact reaper-style decoy. In addition to a real fan, he zip-ties dried turkey wings to the fake. They provide extra concealment—but they also allow Culpepper to employ another trick.

“Michael Waddell showed me this,” he says. “If you’re crawling in close but the gobbler’s not breaking, you can pop the decoy stake hard against the ground. It makes those wings beat against the decoy, and it sounds just like turkeys flogging in a fight. Do that while making a fighting purr, and it’ll drive him nuts.”

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OnX Hunting App OnX Hunt

Get Ready

When the bird does break, Culpepper stakes the deke in front of him, sits back, and pokes the barrel through the tail fan or eases it over the top of a wing. “When a tom is locked in, he won’t notice that movement.”

Culpepper killed his Osceola at two steps. “I love to see how close I can get to them,” he says. That’s the whole appeal of the small-bore trend. “Still, I think I’ll leave the Judge home and go with a shotgun from now on.”

Trending: Breeder Hens

Decoy companies have been making “breeding pairs” for some 20 years. After all, if a jake decoy just standing there upsets old gob, then the sight of one on top of his girlfriend should really create issues. Problem is, those decoys have historically looked so fake that I doubt some manufacturers have ever witnessed a real round of turkey coitus.

Today’s top makers must be more voyeuristic because they are now making highly realistic breeder-hen decoys that can be used with or without a jake. Late in the season, I leave the jake home and add a breeder to several feeding and alert hen dekes. I position the breeder for my best shot. The other decoys help draw gobblers in from a distance, and when they finally spot that hen on her belly, they’ll strut right in to do God knows what. Be ready to shoot—or cover your eyes.

Game Changer: Go Public (On Purpose)

Believe it or not, some top gobbler killers hunt public land because it’s harder. On some pressured Tennessee public land that I hunt, the seasoned locals swear that all the gobblers wired to go to hen calls have been culled out of the flock. I’m not sure I believe that, but I know these toms are tough. Here’s how I’ve managed to bag a few.

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Brian Grossenbacher

Fools Rush In

Most public-land hunters hear a gobbler and rush to sit down, eager to make the first yelps and “claim” the bird for themselves. But pressured birds learn that a hen calling from one spot means trouble. Instead, I call occasionally while sneaking ever closer. You’ll bump some turkeys, but you’ll kill some too, if you still-hunt along at the speed of fungus. Use your binoculars to glass constantly for a fan. Don’t be afraid to make him gobble with aggressive yelps and cutts, but keep them infrequent. Be safe, of course. And never utter so much as a cluck without a setup tree and shooting lane in mind. know when to Shut Up

Once the turkey gobbles at you inside 50 or 60 yards, sit down and be quiet. Don’t bother with a decoy, and put your call in your pocket. The bird assumes that he’s about to see a hen walking to him, and when he doesn’t, he’ll get anxious. Don’t scratch in the leaves. Don’t cluck. Make him think his hen is gone. Keep watch with your gun on your shoulder, and if he quits gobbling, don’t move for a full 30 minutes. Odds are, he’ll sneak in silently before then.

Trending: D.I.Y. Mouth Calls

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Kerry B. Wix

“A serious flyfisherman doesn’t want to buy flies at Walmart. He wants to fool a trout with a fly he tied himself,” says Tennessee turkey nut Kerry B. Wix, who’s been pressing his own diaphragm calls for the past five seasons. Wix says the first yelper he ever made sounded awful. But the learning process has paid off.

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Robert Harding / Alamy

Virtually all mouth calls consist of just an aluminum frame, latex reeds, and tape. “The big differences in sound come from the call’s side and back tension, layering, and reed cuts,” Wix says. “Increasing side tension by a ten-­thousandth of an inch can completely change the sound. Everyone blows a call a little differently, so finding your perfect combination of reed cut and stretch off the shelf is random. But when you’re making your own, you can tweak the numbers to get them just right, and then build your perfect call over and over again.”

Wix says that his calling improved dramatically once he learned to build his own calls. “I enjoy making them for myself and my hunting buddies,” he says. “When they choose my call to kill a gobbler—well, there’s a lot of satisfaction in that.”

Game Changer: Carry a Cross

If you’re one of the many hunters who’s jumped on the crossbow train recently, take it turkey hunting. A crossbow provides the point-blank thrill of bowhunting with the run-and-gun capability of shotgun hunting. And in some states with archery-only seasons, like Nebraska and Kansas, it’ll get you extra time in the woods too. I’ve killed a slew of gobblers with a crossbow. Here’s what I’ve learned.

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Kerry B. Wix

Set a Ruse

To kill a turkey with an arrow, you want the bird standing still inside 25 yards. Good decoys are the name of the game. I place a DSD 3/4 Strut Jake or Avian-X 1/2 Strut Jake 15 yards out and quartering to me. Then I stake a hen deke at 18 yards. Aggressive gobblers will walk past the hen and square off with the jake head-on, giving you a 12-yard shot. Passive birds that strut just beyond the hen are still easy pickings for a crossbow.

Rest Easy

When you fidget, the wide limbs of a crossbow will move enough to spook any turkey. A rest, like the Primos Trigger Stick ­Monopod, is essential for keeping comfortable and still while working a bird, and for 10-ringing a turkey’s small vital area.

Cut Big

I’ve killed a bunch of birds with fixed-blade broadheads, but I’ve come to prefer hybrid heads with a fixed bleeder blade and two big mechanical blades, like the Bloodsport Gravedigger or Muzzy Trocar HB. Even the slowest crossbows have the oomph to push those heads through a gobbler, and they open devastating holes.

Wild Tactic: Bust a Move

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pack of pesky jakes Donald M. Jones

There are days, often late in the season, when we promise to spend the rest of the year becoming a better person if only we can get a shot at a turkey. A jake with a beard just long enough for the game warden to see would work fine. Problem is, jakes and even 2-year-old gobblers tend to bunch up late and can be surprisingly difficult to kill. Unless you bust them up first.

The key is to actually scatter them, not just spook them. You need individuals to fly away in multiple directions. I’ve had my best luck by getting within 100 yards of a flock and then running at them head-on. Yelling and cussing, a lot, seems to help.

Next, sit as close to the break site as you can and stake out a single jake decoy. Give the woods 10 minutes to settle down, and then make long, loud strings of jake yelps, kee-kee runs, and gobbles. And when that turkey is finally flopping at your feet, remember your promise about the rest of the year.

Written by Will Brantley for Field & Stream and legally licensed through the Matcha publisher network. Please direct all licensing questions to legal@getmatcha.com.

CROSS POLLINATION

CROSS POLLINATION

by Marc Peruzzi and Dave Cox

The outdoor industry and the backcountry bowhunting worlds have been commingling of late, driving innovation. Here’s a look at some products shaking up both categories—tested.

SITKA APEX PANT AND APEX HOODY 

This kit was designed for mid-season elk hunting where temperatures spike from the low 30s on the predawn approach, to the 60s on the hike out in late afternoon. You might think that they’re not much different than your everyday hiking kit, but you’d be wrong. Backcountry hunters need rugged but light apparel that moves with them without making noise or stinking like so many synthetic fabrics do. Here, a polyester face backed by a grid of lightweight fleece is treated with Polygiene—an antimicrobial that eliminates odor. The Apex Pant is the least restrictive pair of hiking pants of any kind that I own. And the breathability is also unmatched. I wore them with a baselayer on colder days and as is on warmer afternoon hunts. Over 14 miles a day and many thousands of vertical feet, they let me move through the subalpine (which is also the name of the camo pattern shown here) more freely. The merino and nylon Apex Hoody features a built-in neck tube-like swath of material that you can pull over your head for better concealment and a touch more warmth. I wish my winter midweight hoodies had that feature. Pant: $209; Hoody: $220 —M.P.

FIRST LITE SEAK STORMTIGHT RAIN JACKET AND PANT 

The company was founded by some former outdoor industry folks from Smith Sport Optics. Their first products in hunting were merino wool knicker-length baselayer bottoms that any skier would dig. Now, First Lite has expanded its line to include the type of 3.5-layer waterproof breathable rain (and snow) wear we’d never head into the mountains without after Labor Day. Fully featured with cinchable hoods, cuffs, and waterproof zippers, the Seak kit is rugged enough for moving through the snags of standing dead lodgepole forests. Pit zips let you ventilate on the climbs. So how does it differ from top-of-the-line waterproof breathable layering we’d wear backcountry skiing or backpacking? First Lite knows camo: their Cipher pattern is designed for western big game and is shown here. The sleeves, too, are cut in such a way as to not interfere with bow strings. Built-in stretch allows for a full draw. Jacket: $350; Pant: $335 —M.P.

MYSTERY RANCH SAWTOOTH 45 PACK

I’ve tested backpacks on and off for much of the past 20 years, and I can honestly say that the Sawtooth 45 is the best carrying pack of any size that I’ve ever owned, and that includes many lighter weight ski packs. The no-bullshit fit system—you adjust the yoke to your shoulders and back in seconds—delivers a custom fit that makes any heat-moldable or more complicated takes on customization irrelevant. In 10 days of backcountry hiking carrying about 30 pounds of gear, I all but stopped thinking about the pack after the first hour in the woods. That’s great, but Mystery Ranch—which was founded by outdoor industry legend Dana Gleason and is based in Bozeman—offers similar packs in its backpacking line. The truly remarkable feature of the Sawtooth is what the company calls its Guide Light MT Frame. Unclip the pack from the frame and you can haul quarters or just slip the pack farther back to haul game bags. Variations of that design are now available in Mystery Ranch’s other lines. The upside should be obvious: Think about slipping your sleeping bag and bivvy into the space between the frame and the pack. It obviates the need for a 65 liter pack. $450 —M.P.

FIRST LITE X NEMO COLLECTION: STALKER 0 SLEEPING BAG 

Those of us who prefer to err on the side of camping with a warmer bag often find ourselves overheated on warmer nights. Enter the Stalker: This zero-rated, 800-fill down bag has zippered gills running vertically above your chest. Rather than unzipping the bag in the traditional manner and being hot on one side and cold on the other, you open and close the gills to regulate heat. The drawstring hood, with its additional down baffle around the neck, and the added waterproof synthetic insulation in the footbox, were great on cold nights. Side sleepers will love the way the bag stretches at the knees. $520  —D.C.

FIRST LITE X NEMO COLLECTION: NEMO RECURVE 2P TENT 

Several years ago NEMO Equipment founder Cam Brensinger started hunting with his dad, which led to trading gear and ideas with the hunting apparel maker First Lite. A co-lab grew out of this friendship and the Field Collection was born. On my recent mule deer hunt, I set up a spike camp on a point to glass and pattern the animals as they transitioned from grazing to bedding locations. The Recurve weighs less than two pounds and pitches via a two pole system that forms a “T” where one pole runs along the tent ceiling, and the other drops down into a hole in the tent’s floor. You can access the canopy from both vestibuled sides. Carbon fiber struts in the tent shift to upright when guyed out, creating vertical walls where your head and feet end up when sleeping. No more sloping tent wall in your face as you lie down. $460  —D.C.