Martha’s Vineyard was not what I expected. My assumption was Lake of the Ozarks for people from Manhattan. Instead, what I found was one of the most naturally scenic, historically rich, architecturally pleasing, and welcoming destinations I have ever visited. I left feeling a strange connection to a place I didn’t have high expectations for.
Johnny Graham operated REVEL Catering and Events nine months a year in Jefferson City, Missouri and spent each summer as a private chef on Martha’s Vineyard for many years. He has now made the break and is living fulltime on Martha’s Vineyard with his partner, Vicki, and her two children. They have just opened REVEL Galley & Provisions, a physical location with to-go sandwiches, specialty meats and more, and continue to operate REVEL Catering and Events.
Martha’s Vineyard is in Dukes County. In 2024, the total spring turkey harvest in the county was 25. This is up from 2016 when the total was one bird. There is very little public land on the Vineyard open to hunting without first obtaining special permission. There are serious firearms restrictions, too. Hunting on Martha’s Vineyard is a far cry from the freedom of just walking out on onto to Conservation Areas or Fish and Wildlife Areas like we do in the Midwest. Johnny had gained permission on a few small acreage, private properties.
The first morning was mostly scouting. Day two began with a thunderstorm. Johnny wanted me and his friend Bret to get to know each other, so he put us in a blind overlooking a field, while he held the high ground in a pasture closer to a farmhouse. Johnny left early for a men’s group he attends each week. With him out of the field, it was fair game to make a move on a turkey gobbling in the woods near the front of the property. I made a move, Bret stayed in the blind. Bret killed the turkey.
On the final morning, Johnny and I headed to a little place where he deer hunts. I called. Nothing responded. It was in the bottom of the ninth with two out and two strikes. This was the end of the game. I called again, and to my shock and awe a gobbler fired off within 200 yards above us. Without hesitation, I moved up the ridge cutting the distance in half. With my back on one side of a tree only as big around as a coffee can and Johnny’s on the other, we stood out on the flat but would have a clean shot at the bird if he’d come up the hill. Situated with my shotgun already on my knee, I used a mouth call to softly yelp. A chorus of gobblers fired back. At least five or six. All within 100 yards, just down the hill. Barely out of sight.
The top of a turkey’s back emerged. Then the tips of a tail fan spread above the foliage. Right before me was a mature gobbler with a long beard and a big red head. He strutted to impress the female he was after. He moved behind a rock. I shifted slightly to my left and pulled back the hammer. He emerged. When he stuck his head up, I took a clean shot. He crumpled.
A special aspect of this hunt was the shotgun I used. It was originally owned by my great-great grandfather, Chester Walker Hendren. He fathered 13 children and raised them in a ramshackle cabin on a cotton farm in the northwest corner of Tennessee. The Cannon Breech single shot 12-gauge was likely built around 1920. This shotgun fed his family. He died in 1964. The shotgun went to his youngest son, also named Chester. When he died in 2018, the shotgun was passed to his daughter, who knowing my passion for such family heirlooms, placed the shotgun in safe keeping me. I imagine before this turkey, it had been over 60 years since this gun hunted. Now, it’ll be a while again. Someday, I too, will pass this heirloom on to a family member who hunts.
We still had two hours left. We struck out across another property to find Johnny a bird. We crested a hill and spotted a gobbler in the field. Johnny staked two decoys in the ground near a cluster of large trees, and we settled in with our backs against a large rock. With Johnny to my left and his over-under .410 shotgun on his knee, I began to softly call. Two gobblers were answering from the woods. While trying to figure out where they might emerge, a silent gobbler showed up from another direction and marched right into the decoys. Johnny made an excellent shot.
We dined that evening at State Road. A contemporary restaurant serving local, farm-inspired meals made from scratch by Chef Jonathan Warnock and his team. In the dimly lit tavern style ambiance, seated next to a handset stone fireplace, I reveled in the amazement of the journey hunting has taken me on across this country. The people I have met. The places I have been. None better on either account than those found on Martha’s Vineyard.
See you down the trail…
Brandon Butler
driftwoodoutdoors@gmail.com
Pic: Johnny Graham (left) and Brandon Butler with a pair of Martha’s Vineyard gobblers.
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