The MeatEater

On this episode, Tony goes through some of the standard turkey hunting advice that is really holding back a lot of modern hunters.

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One of Idaho’s seven Fish and Game Commissioners has pled not guilty to multiple hunting violations after an investigation prompted by a call to the Citizens Against Poaching hotline.

Commissioner Brody Harshbarger is facing a rash of misdemeanor charges, including taking game unlawfully, hunting without a valid tag, shooting from a roadway, shooting with the aid of a motor vehicle, not making a reasonable effort to retrieve an animal, and trespassing to hunt or retrieve game.

It’s such a long list that it almost seems as though Harshbarger was involved in some kind of role-play exercise, where an established hunter demonstrates to new hunters all the things you’re absolutely not supposed to do when you’re out in the field.

According to court documents, on December 20 of last year, Harshbarger and a hunting partner, Eric Murphy, were out hunting elk near the Spring Hollow Boat Ramp on the Teton River in Fremont County, Idaho. They allegedly shot a six-point bull and an antlerless elk, but Harshbarger had already filled his elk tag for the season. The activity raised the suspicions of a nearby property owner, who called the IDFG hotline.

The pair allegedly shot the animals across Spring Hollow Road while Harshbarger sat in his truck and Murphy stood beside it. The bull expired on private property, and the antlerless elk ran onto nearby Bureau of Reclamation land before dying. The charges allege that Harshbarger trespassed to retrieve the bull and did not make a reasonable effort to recover the other animal.

A couple very important points here: Harshbarger is not an employee of Idaho Fish and Game. He is a member of the Fish and Game Commission—the body that oversees the agency—and he was appointed by the Governor in 2023, so his four-year term runs through June 2027. Harshbarger represents the Upper Snake Region of the state and is a farmer and rancher who has often weighed in on grizzly depredation issues during his tenure as commissioner.

According to Governor Brad Little’s office, Harshbarger will suspend his activities as a commissioner until the case is resolved, but there’s no word on whether an interim commissioner might be appointed or how a possible impasse between the remaining six members would be resolved.

Harshbarger’s case is a reminder of how important distribution of power is in the state’s government. Idaho senators recently introduced Senate Bill 1300, which would allow the governor to directly appoint the Director of Idaho Fish and Game. Under the current system, the seven Fish and Game Commissioners together make that appointment. SB 1300 has now passed both houses of the legislature and is now on Governor Little’s desk, so it will almost definitely become law.

Under the existing system, the Fish and Game Director could be confident about aggressively investigating a politically connected person like Harshbarger; even if the director were going to take political heat for it, they would have other commissioners who could support them. But if a future director knows that the same governor responsible for hiring and firing them also appointed all the commissioners who oversee the agency, they’d be exposed to a lot more political risk.

“We’re heading into murky waters,” said Nick Fasciano, Executive Director of the Idaho Wildlife Federation. “Although I don’t see a direct conflict in this criminal case, SB 1300 adds a political aspect to all kinds of decisions, from enforcement to science-based policy. Vesting so much power in one person raises significant concerns.”

“And although the current governor is a strong advocate for hunting and fishing rights, the demographics of Idaho are changing. By giving the office of the governor so much power to shape conservation in Idaho, we expose ourselves to a lot of risk if our state moves in the direction of Colorado or Washington.”

If Harshbarger is convicted of all the charges against him, he could spend up to three years in jail, owe over $7,000 in fines, and lose his hunting license. His first pre-trial hearing is scheduled for April 29.

Feature image via IDFG.

A strutting turkey is one of the most remarkable spectacles you can witness while hunting. His varied, iridescent feathers fanned out as he parades around with all the pomp and circumstance of spring. Those very feathers make each turkey slightly unique. Then there are those wild variations, like smoky, jet black, orange, or even white-winged gobblers. Some without barred feathers or other odd plumage that strays from the typical turkey norm.

To better understand these genetic variations observed in odd plumage, Dr. Mike Chamberlain with the Wild Turkey Lab (in conjunction with the National Wild Turkey Federation, Ducks Unlimited, the Low Country Game Bird Foundation, and the University of Texas at El Paso) is spearheading research on wild turkey genetic diversity, inbreeding potential, gene flow, hybridization, and more. This collaboration falls under project wildturkeyDNA, which requires hunters to participate in this exciting research.

That’s where you come in. To get the word out about the work at wildturkeyDNA, MeatEater is hosting a photo contest for odd-plumage birds (enter in the comments below) and encouraging you to submit your photos to the wildturkeyDNA website.

If your bird is selected by the turkey scientists over there, you’ll follow a simple and free submission process. Selected hunters will receive a postage-paid kit with one or more vials. You can head over to wildturkeyDNA for more details. Feel free to submit an old photo of a turkey to our contest, but the folks over at wildturkeyDNA need photos from turkeys killed this spring to continue their research.

“When you harvest a wild turkey, simply clip the end of the tongue off, put it in the vial, and then freeze it,” Dr. Chamberlain said. “When you’re ready to ship the sample back to us, you put the vial back in the kit and drop it in the mail. There’s no cost to the hunter. Likewise, if you harvest a turkey with odd plumage, go to the website and request a kit, and we’ll take a look at pictures of your bird and determine whether we want to get a sample from it.”

Yes, winning prizes is cool, but actively participating in wild turkey research is even cooler. And the folks over at wildturkeyDNA need your help.

“This research hinges entirely on the willingness of turkey hunters to provide samples, and as such, those same hunters are driving the largest genetics project ever conducted on the wild turkey and one of the largest ever conducted—period. We appreciate turkey hunters helping with this research. Our success lies on their shoulders.”

There aren’t many convenient (and free) ways most hunters can participate in wildlife research. If you harvest a turkey with odd plumage this year, consider submitting your photos at wildturkeyDNA to help learn more about America’s favorite gamebird.

Even if you don’t harvest a turkey with odd plumage, there are other ways you can contribute to these research efforts, especially if you prefer to use decoys while turkey hunting.

Each spring, Dave Smith Decoys incorporates a limited run of odd plumage decoys.

“It’s been a cool way for us to showcase these plumage variations while also giving toward research,” DSD’s Brand Manager Mike Callian said. “This spring’s launch we are donating 20% of all revenue generated from the sale, along with 100% of the proceeds from the auction, to wildturkeyDNA. This year’s release replicates a plumage we haven't attempted yet, and thanks to Dr. Chamberlain’s research, it’s confirmed it shows up in 100% wild birds, which makes it especially exciting for us.”

This year’s limited odd plumage decoy will drop later this spring. If you’re looking for an easy way to contribute to the research at wildturkeyDNA and add a unique decoy to your spread, stay tuned for more details.

So if you’ve shot a cool-colored tom in the past or even caught one on a trail camera, we want to see photos of it! To submit your photo, drop a picture in the comment section below before April 6. Our crew will select the three craziest color patterns for prizes. First place will receive a decoy from Dave Smith Decoys, second place will receive a $500 gift card to First Lite, and third place will receive an Edge 3 trail camera from Moultrie. To read the full rules of the contest, click here.

The waterhole ambush is a tried-and-true tactic for plenty of big game animals, like elk, pronghorn, and, of course, whitetails. But it's rarely discussed as a method for hunting America’s favorite game bird. News flash, turkeys drink water too.

Turkeys need to consume about a quart of water every day. And since they’re diurnal, like us, they have to consume it all during standard shooting hours. That’s convenient for hunters, and a huge factor in why most turkeys don’t stray far from a reliable source of the good stuff.

Science has consistently backed up an anecdotal observation many hunters make: wild turkeys generally roost close to water. So, while you may not be able to point to any water source and then to the nearest turkey, you can absolutely point to a roosted turkey and then to the water it’s most likely to visit. Especially when the mercury rises. If you’re dealing with unseasonably warm temps or a place where water is limited, consider adding water to your turkey hunting playbook.

Last April, I hunted a walk-in ranch in Nebraska on opening day of shotgun season. I was trying to get away from the crowds after failing to intercept the local road flock with my bow. Temps hovered in the 80s that day with bluebird skies. I was drenched with sweat walking in.

I hit a two-track at midday that was plastered with turkey sign and ran straight to a windmill pad. As a New England native with no exposure to ranching in my life, I only recently discovered that where there is a windmill, there’s usually a stock tank. With the concentration of turkey tracks and turds on the road, I knew there had to be a full tank that the birds were hitting hard in those unseasonably warm temps.

Within minutes, I heard a gobble and barely had time to take cover before a group of seven jakes wandered in for a drink, panting like a pack of dogs. Less than an hour later, a tom strolled down the road to the tank. He never made it to the water, and I walked off the ranch 22 pounds heavier. Sure, it wasn’t the usual dance, but it worked.

The last thing anyone wants to wear on a hot, sunny day is a black, puffy jacket. Unfortunately, wild turkeys can’t take theirs off. But just like rutting bucks, spring toms have less concern for their health than they do during the rest of the year. High temperatures don’t stop them from strutting, fighting, and cruising for ladies. All of which drives up their water bill.

If the forecast is scorching and you strike out trying to kill a bird off the roost, slipping in for a midday stakeout on a nearby water source might just score you a limb-hanger. Especially if you bring some convincing decoys and do a little calling. Turkeys know their home turf, and a bird that hears a pool party going on without him is likely to investigate and might come in silently.

You won’t catch a thirsty tom at a stock tank any day of the season, though. Without extreme heat driving hydration needs up, turkeys mostly get by on the water content of their highly varied diet. Luckily, the right water source can still be a turkey magnet in mild weather for that very reason.

Wild turkeys are the velociraptors of modern-day North America. They eat just about everything they can catch and swallow, from leafy greens to green snakes. And there’s no better buffet for an indiscriminate omnivore like a turkey than the one that forms around water in the spring.

Ponds, creeks, and even long-lasting puddles become hotbeds of diverse plant growth and bug life even by the earliest March openers. These water sources attract all kinds of snackable rodents, reptiles, and amphibians. The concentration of prey and forage with extra-high water content pulls turkeys to waterfront areas, even when they’re not specifically looking to wet their beaks.

The drier the environment, the more likely a turkey is to work an aquatic microhabitat into its daily routine. If you’re chasing Rios in Oklahoma, a stock pond might be the only permanent water in an entire section, and it only takes a few minutes to confirm the birds are nabbing tadpoles there by checking for tracks around the perimeter. On the other hand, I wouldn’t hunt Florida Osceolas based on a single water source.

In areas with plenty of moisture, trail cameras can be helpful in monitoring the best-looking water holes between a tom’s roost, strut, and feeding zones and providing the intel you need to intercept him. It’s not the flashiest way to kill a turkey, but it can work when the temps are high and the birds go quiet.

When you think of the state of Florida, a water crisis is likely not the first thing that comes to mind. However, There has been an ongoing fight for decades now centered around water, and more importantly how it is managed. In it's natural state, water would flow slowly south out of Lake Okeechobee, down through the everglades, and into the Atlantic ocean. Now, after some artifical damming and canal building- the water is released in large discharges to the St Lucie and Caloosahatchie Rivers, causing an aray of problems for those rivers, the residing wildlife, water quality, and neglects the everglades.

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This week, Cal covers two fascinating stories of wildlife managers using crowdsourcing to get things done, a new program in Japan to deploy bear-spray-wielding drones, and an explosive report that claims the famous bigfoot video was a fake.

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To learn more and get involved with any Cal to Action, click here.

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This week, Tony breaks down hunting turkeys in high winds, rain, and extreme temperatures.

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Steven Rinella talks with former Chief Trainer and handler for the LAPD's K9 Unit Doug Roller.

Topics discussed: Getting heavy into falconry; a calling to work with animals; joining the police department; what an apprehension dog is; desirable dog characteristics; prey drive; running into a friendly; smelling fear; bite ratio; when dogs pay the price; buying a protection dog; training tips; and more. 

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Few things are more deflating than missing a turkey. If you think successful hunts are unforgettable, misses will etch themselves into the part of your brain that handles long-term memory. Months later, when you think you’ve gotten over it, you’ll wake up from that nightmare, drenched in sweat and panting as you think of all the things you could have done differently. If only you hadn’t moved or sat next to that sapling. Maybe you should have yelped to stop that bird before you shot. Meanwhile, phantom gobbles ring in your head like a chorus of mocking children. Even worse, you wasted TSS and heard the sound of $20 going up in flames—the sound of wing beats receding in the distance.

Killing a turkey seems simple in theory, but misses happen to even the best hunters. Sometimes, there’s little you can do to avoid it. Other times, you just plain whiff. Even the MeatEater crew misses every now and then (if that’s any consolation).

And because misery loves company, we want to hear about your worst turkey blunders, too. Post a comment with your most painful turkey miss story, and you’ll be entered for a chance to win a slew of killer prizes. If you’re still reeling from a recent miss, welcome to the club, and enjoy some of the crew’s worst turkey misses.

About eight years ago I got permission to turkey hunt a farm near my house. I started glassing in March and ended up finding a monster tom that had a group of 11 hens pretty much locked up. He was the perfect candidate for a full strutter, so I put up a blind and made a plan to bowhunt that specific bird (which I never do).

The first day I hunted him, I spotted the longbeard with his ladies and called him away from them and straight into my spread. When I drew on him, my brain registered a weird noise and a feeling in the draw cycle, but it wasn't enough to set off any warning bells. He was 10 yards out and in full strut when I centered my pin on him and released.

My arrow cut a triangle-shaped hole through his fan, so I scrambled to nock up and shoot again. I put another hole in his fan, nearly on top of the first one. I didn't know what was wrong, but I knew enough to not shoot again. So, I watched him chest-bump my decoy until he got bored and wandered back to his girlfriends. Later at home I realized that the draw stop on my top cam had sheared off when I drew the first time, causing me to hit way high. I arrowed a consolation bird a few days later, but I've never forgotten the only time I had a hit list tom and missed him twice at a distance I could probably have killed him with a rock.

This miss is so fresh the empty shotshell is still smoking. I didn’t have a plan for opening morning of the 2026 Mississippi turkey season, so I decided to hunt a spot that’s produced in the past. Right at prime gobbling time, I heard a distant gobble. I knew he was roosted on the neighboring property where I don’t have permission. His muffled gobble also told me that I’d have to convince him to wade through a privet thicket.

I cut the distance (as much as I could) and waited for him to gobble again. To get a better pin on him, I owl hooted, and he immediately gobbled. I knew it was a long shot to call him through that thicket and off the neighboring property, so I called to him from the middle of an old firebreak near the property line. He cut me off, and I quickly dropped back, setting up on an overgrown fence row.

About 15 minutes passed in silence, and I decided to call again. Nothing. I knew he wasn’t going to come through that thicket, so I decided to shut up, sit tight, and just listen. I was already daydreaming about another spot when that longbeard gobbled behind me, within gun range.

I slowly cut my eyes and then turned my head. I could see him strutting in the pasture behind me. Not only had he come through that thicket, but he made a big loop around me. Luckily, I had enough cover to get turned around (a little too much cover). He gobbled again, so close that I could hear that rattle in his throat.

I settled my gun on my knee and picked an opening where he’d have to walk before I could get a clean shot. It would be quick and close. After three soft yelps he came out of his strut. I watched his head bob through the brush, rope of a beard swinging. My heart was racing and my breathing was so loud I thought it would spook that bird. When he popped into my shooting lane, I settled the red dot and squeezed. Instead of flopping, he made a 180 and bolted. I couldn’t believe it. Not until I lowered my gun and saw the privet saplings that were bent and splintered not 6 inches from my barrel. No feathers, no blood, just some broken trees and a bruised ego.

Just last year I missed a gobbler in Wisconsin. But this story isn't about the miss, it's about how I missed the opportunity to kill his brother, who came in full strut just moments earlier.

I had a leg-burner of a morning hunt: I pretty much transected the 500 acres I have access to hunt multiple times, chasing distant gobbles that stopped gobbling once I reached the location they should be.

Around 11 am I headed down the main ridge, tail tucked between my legs, trying to decide whether to make myself a late breakfast or an early lunch. I stopped on a bluff to send out one last series of loud clucks. To my surprise, a gobble hammered back. A response like that at 11 am is what turkey schnitzel is made of.

That gobble was still distant, so I dropped off the backside of the ridge, zipped down 200 yards, and popped up on a bench that I thought would be close to the gobbler. I found a nice white pine that offered a bit of shade and started a series of yelps. He cut me off on the second note. I scratched the leaves next to me, and both gobblers hammered. I was close enough to hear two birds responding to my hen imitations.

Moments later I could hear turkey feet marching up the hill, crunching oak leaves. I flipped the safety off. The birds were on track to pop up 20 yards in front of me. The first thing I saw was the lead bird's fan. “Perfect,” I thought.

I briefly saw his head before it disappeared behind a double-trunked oak. I had to decide to either track the first bird as he moved behind the two trunks and shoot him on the other side or leave my gun barrel pointed where he just popped up, assuming the second bird would follow the same path. I decided to track the first bird when the second one popped up and saw my gun barrel move. He putted, and both birds flushed without a second thought. I quickly pivoted back to the second bird and tried to shoot him on the wing. It was a waste of TSS. The lesson? Take the first good shot opportunity you get.

Since the ninth grade, I’ve lost some of the hearing in my right ear, but my left ear still works fine. Since my right ear is compromised, I can’t really course a gobbler anymore. I learned the hard way the importance of hearing for the turkey hunter.

One spring morning, about 9 o’clock, I struck a gobbler in the national forest mountains here in Arkansas. I cut on my mouth call, and he immediately cuts me off. I could hear well enough to know he was within 150 yards, and he just kept gobbling. He was on his way. I think he’s coming from straight in front of me, so I sit down and point the gun directly in front. The next time he gobbles, he’s within 60 yards, but I can’t see him. I still think he’s coming right down my gun barrel, so I sit still for another few minutes when I catch movement and see him coming up directly from my left.

I was off. Bad off. I coursed him wrong by almost 90 degrees, and he showed up at my 9 o’clock at 25 yards. He’s right there, putting and strutting when I finally see him. I’m way out of position, but I swing, shoot, and miss him. He goes to fly, but I put the bead right on him. I mean, I was just going to drop him with the second shot. I went to squeeze the trigger, and nothing happened. Apparently my gun was dirty and jammed. I had one shot, and I missed. So I learned two hard lessons that day: One, I couldn’t trust my ears. Number two—clean your dadgum gun.

The week the first episode of my podcast aired, I was turkey hunting in Missouri. Clay Newcomb joined me in camp, and we were filming a hunt for MeatEater.

I had a turkey gobbling his brains out on a ridge where I’d called many turkeys from over the past twenty years. It was like the chorus of a song repeating, just a year apart. The year prior, I was sitting within ten yards of where Dave, my cameraman, and I now sat. We were calling to a gobbler on the opposite end of that same ridge. That bird flew down, strutted, and gobbled all the way within range, and I promptly filled his jaws full of shot.

This one was playing out just as it had the year before and many similar hunts just like that one.

He flew down right on cue, went into full strut, and slowly but purposefully made his way straight to where Dave and I were hidden. The footage was incredible.

At 35 yards I couldn’t take it anymore and asked Dave if he had him on camera. Upon confirmation, I pulled the trigger. Instead of a flopping bird, I had a complete miss and an even worse followup shot. I always thought missing a turkey was the worst thing that could happen. Missing one for the world to see is way worse.

To enter the contest, simply post a comment below this article with your turkey-miss story before April 6. Prizes include a Case Knife and $500 First Lite gift card, a Moultrie Edge 3 trail camera, and The Wild + Whole Cookbook. Winners will be chosen at random. To read the official rules of the contest, click here.