Category Archives: Adventure

By Chris Denham

My son Mark, and I

I was raised in Gould’s turkey country… the Gould’s turkey (Meleagris gallopavo mexicana) is the largest of the five North American species of wild turkey. Prior to the arrival of the pioneer settlers, they thrived in the river and creek bottoms of southern Arizona, New Mexico and Mexico. But the big bird was a logical and available food source to the booming population of miners working the rich mineral claims found in the same topography. So before Arizona even established big game seasons the Gould’s turkey was gone. An aggressive transplanting program was instigated by the Arizona Game & Fish Department and many volunteer organizations to establish huntable populations in their former habitat. Their investment of hard work and money paid off and brings us to the beginning of this hunting story.

Growing up in southern Arizona and working for the Glenn family on their two cattle ranches was a dream come true. At least in retro spec it was, at the time it was just life. That was 30 years ago and a lot has changed. Since the day I pulled out of my home town of Douglas, AZ and headed for college I have lived in the big city, and have been reduced to just telling stories about the good old days and summers on the ranch. Life just goes faster and faster it seems and I have only had a few occasions to visit in the three decades since. Then I found out that my son Mark and I had hit the turkey hunter’s gold mine and had drawn Gould’s turkey tags for the Chiricahua Mountains, there is something about drawing a tag that forces a hunter to make time in a busy schedule.

The Glenn family has lived, ranched and hunted lions in this part of the world for over 100 years now.  Marvin Glenn was raised on the J-A ranch and brought his young bride Margaret to live there in the 30’s. They raised Warner and Janet in the former Apache country as well, so when Warner married Wendy they did not go too far from home. They brought Cody and Kelly into the world and they are probably still trying to figure out how I showed up and managed to stay so long. From the first day that Cody and I worked in the Jr. High cafeteria together scrubbing lunch trays I was enthralled by his stories of ranch life. So when the first invite to visit came, I was determined that it would not be my last. And it wasn’t, over the next five years I spent summers building fence and cooler months pushing cows and hunting on the ranches. Now thirty years later I was once again asking if there was room for me at the J-A. When I told Kelly about our turkey hunt she insisted that we stay at the house, my resistance was only out of courtesy, I was hoping beyond hope that she would offer!

The J-A sits on the southern tip of the Chiricahuas and is where Cody and I made our living at $10 a day during our high school summers. The memories of Marvin banging on the bunkhouse window on his way to the barn for morning chores and rainy evening spent on the front porch eating Margaret’s fudge and singing Jambalaya may sound a little Norman Rockwell but they are real. We rode mules to work, swam in a steel tank and listened to Waylon Jennings on an 8-track…how cool is that!

As excited as I was to get a chance to go home, my good friend Eddy Corona equally excited to hunt a Gould’s turkey. With the grace of a Labrador retriever r at feeding time he nudged his way into the trip by extolling his calling ability. Actually, I knew he would appreciate my walk down memory lane as much as Mark so he was a welcome addition (he can call a turkey too).

After watching the Phoenix area triple in size during my time here, I was shocked at how little things had changed as I drove into the ranch. That first night was spent looking at old photo albums and just staring at the photographs on the walls that had helped to make me who I am. But when the alarm went off at 3:00 am is time to quit reminiscing and get to hunting.

Eddy and my son Mark

Kelly had told me about a couple of place they had seen turkeys while lion hunting so we headed in that direction. We tried calling a few times in the pre-dawn darkness but did not hear a peep until we got to tone of the spots that Kelly told us about. As we rolled to a stop at the start of legal shooting light two gobblers responded immediately. Until this point Mark had never been turkey hunting so as Eddy set up the decoys and got himself into place, I was giving Mark the two minute drill on everything he was supposed to remember. As fate would have it, the gobbler came in from directly behind us and gobbled with everything he had from less than 20 feet. Having to wait for that turkey to materialize out of our peripheral vision was pure torture but he finally did. Not ten minutes into his first day of turkey hunting Mark was putting his tag on one of the rarest trophies in the United States.

As we were driving out of the canyon and approached a major dirt road intersection, I reminded Eddy that this was the other spot Kelly had told us about. As if on cue, a flock of turkeys with multiple gobblers ran across the road! We drove a few hundred yards, grabbed our gear and began to climb up the ridge paralleling the birds. Once we hit a small plateau I set up a decoy and Eddy gave a quick call. Within five minutes I was trying to choose between three gobblers before they ran right past me and had their way with Eddy and Mark.

The hunt was short but was a long time in coming. We have so few opportunities in life to go back in time and re-live our youth, it is even more rare to be able to take your son and good friend with you. But in less than 48 hours I rolled through many years in my mind. Marvin and Margaret have long since passed but a part of them lives on in all of us who were blessed to spend time on the J-A. So as we turned to truck out of the yard and back to real time, I could help but hear Marvin’s morning revelry… “time to wake up boys”

Mark and I with my bird