In pursuit of the US Super Slam
"You parked behind us?" Long time buddy, guide, and turkey fanatic Mathew "Matty" Laymon sent in a text. Matty had driven 13 hours straight from Kansas with Jay, another upstate New Yorker, guide, and turkey fanatic. With only two hours of sleep and the chilly 30-degree morning air, we pursued the beautiful, white-fanned Merriam's turkey in the Lincoln National Forest of New Mexico.
The rugged terrain of the Lincoln National Forest is the birthplace of Smokey-Bear, a symbol of preventing wildfires. Speckled with ponderosa pines, grasslands, and prickly pear cacti, contrasted starkly with the hot Sun City, my family and I had driven from the day before.
Matty and I stopped nearly every 100 yards to catch our breath and listened for any sign of Gobblers in the area. As the light wind brushed our faces, we settled into the quiet morning. Just then, two gobblers sounded off in the distance!
"Yessir," I said, as Matty confirmed he heard them with a fist bump. He pointed in the direction where he heard them, and we were off.
As the sunrise peaked over the nearby mountain tops, we hustled to where we last heard the gobbles, stopping almost every 100 yards from listening again. We looked at our OnX maps several times and noticed a flat mountaintop that looked ideal for a turkey to pitch down from the roost.
Patiently walking towards the last sounds of the gobbler, we take a break and listen.
Matt Laymon has spent countless hours in pursuit of the wily turkey. Matty has been in quest of the US Super Slam for a few years now, and New Mexico would be his 42nd state if successful. To achieve the US Super Slam, a turkey hunter must harvest a turkey in all 49 states excluding Alaska.
Finally catching his breath, Matty softly clucks and yelps with his diaphragm while we listen intently. The birds we were chasing went silent on us.
Just then, two birds sounded off near the bottom of the valley we had just climbed. Determined the birds we came after were still at the top of the mountain, we decided to push up the hill. The wind and pines were expected to block our calls from reaching them at the top.
On our way to the top, I overhear Matty say, "Hey Wheeler, you got any SH*T tickets?" I laughed but left all the baby wipes with my wife and kids, who were camping at the top of the mountain. "Alright, guess I'll have to use a sock," he said.
Toilet paper or wet wipes are essential in the turkey vest, but when in doubt, compromising part of your underwear or socks can save the day.
After another short pause and Matty lightning his load, we get to the top and set our eyes on a beautiful flat area coated with green grass and dispersed pine trees, with the occasional dry remnants of turkey droppings. No new signs and no sounds of birds, though, so we sat down. Matt clucked, purred, yelped, and cut with no response.
Did the birds go down the ridge? Over another mountain top? We thought. We did not hear any putts or sounds of turkeys flying off, indicating we bumped them. Frustrated and worn from our long walk to the top, we started walking and calling towards the valley where we heard the other set of turkeys earlier.
As we sat on the mountain top, glassing and calling, I wondered if I had made a poor decision to leave my wife and kids in a backcountry campground to go hunting. I was on a tight schedule to return to my family, leaving them without a vehicle and my wife without cellphone service.
I had accumulated 2 hours of sleep, as I kept having to adjust my kid's sleeping bags and was on high alert listening for bears or any potential threats. By the time 0430 came, I woke up to the sound of my alarm and said, "Hunny, do you think I can go out for a couple of hours?" "Yeah, that's fine. But you better be back before lunch," she said. After adjusting the kid's hats and bodies to be on their sleeping pads, I kissed my wife and zipped up the tent. I left a cooler full of food near the park bench over a few hundred yards away from our campsite so no critters would rummage through it and prayed for protection and good favor for my family and selfless wife.
With time in mind, I planned to go out with Matty, learn from all his turkey hunting experience, listen to his crisp calling, and find out where the turkeys were so I could come back for my chance to kill my first Merriam.
As the time neared 0900, we finally struck up two sets of turkeys. One straight ahead of us down our mountain over a small valley and up another hill facing us. Another turkey replied to us that we originally came up near the valley, just down one mountain and across one valley to another hill and up another saddle. We chose the smaller of the two climbs.
"Man, I'd hate to get down to the valley and chase that bird; I bet one will gobble right here where we are," Matty said with experience.
"None of my Merriam's hunts are easy," Matty managed to say in between deep breaths on our trek to the other side. "Let's go get him," I said, hoping to motivate.
Finally, we got to the top, and the bird didn't respond again. We couldn't believe it!
"We need to take a chapter out of ol' Doc's book and just sit down and be patient," we both agreed. We hear a gobbler right where we last were yelping on the other side of the ridge.
"I knew it," Matty proclaimed. "Let's just set up down this ridge a little; these are mountain birds. They'll climb this".
With Matty kneeling behind a giant ponderosa pine, he placed his ol' Man's gun on a broken limb and scanned the valley below. Matt has harvested every turkey in pursuit of his US Slam with his father's gun. His father passed away in 2018 from cancer but bestowed the hunting spirit on Matty.
The gobble kept getting closer and closer until a long pause. I lay flat behind Matty and spotted a blue and red head bobbing up the hill.
"Matty, don't move. He's right in front of us." Matty, with eyes open wide, moved his eyes towards me to confirm he heard me.
"Puck," we heard the turkey and sighed, knowing that that sound meant he spotted us.
Matty makes a few calming yelps with his diaphragm, and the gobbler echoes another gobble. The hunt is still on, I thought!
Reaching into his turkey vest, Matty pulled out a turkey fan and placed it at the front of his gun, leaning forward toward the tom. I lay motionless on my back, watching Matty ease to the base of another tree.
He set his gun on a broken limb. Sittin' on his knees, twisting the fan back and forth, he looked down at the scope of his 12 gauge shotgun. I see Matty slowly place the fan down and bring his hand back to the trigger.
He shifted his gun to the right… paused for a few seconds
"KABLAM"
I jumped to my feet, looked over Matty, and saw a bird flopping in the background.
"Yessir," I exclaimed with a power punch to the air.
"Man, I didn't shoot because I couldn't see if he had a beard, but his fan was full," Matty said.
My time was running short, but with a Merriam's on the ground, my family would surely be forgiving. We pick up the bird, talk about what went down, and verify, with the small spurs, beautiful tail fan, and one of the smallest beards on a turkey we've ever seen, that this was indeed a mature Tom turkey.
We snapped a few photos, met up with Jay, who had four jakes come into his call but did not harvest because he was after a mature tom, and headed up to see my family.
Reluctantly, we got to the campsite, and I heard my youngest son saying, "Daddy home," and ran down the hill to greet us. God blessed us with good favor and fortune on this memorable turkey hunt/family camping trip. A day we will remember forever.
We gathered some food in our coolers and made a feast to celebrate—Venison burger, brats, Brussels sprouts, tomatoes, avocados, and onions. As we ate, we sat and reminisced about our hunt and the ten years since last sharing the woods.
Jay ended up harvesting a Merriam's the next day in a canyon far north of Cloudcroft and headed back to Kansas to guide turkey hunters for 180 Outdoors LLC in southeast Kansas.
All in all, the camping slash hunting trip was a great success. My family endured the 30-degree temps and lived without service or a vehicle. Matty and I were able to catch up and share the turkey woods again, all while getting to know Jay. Matty is one bird closer to completing his US Super Slam making New Mexico his 42nd state of the 49.
With new OnX pin locations saved in the Lincoln National Forest, I'm gearing up to go after my first Merriam's turkey between Army missions and kid's sports.
