A lot of people say they want to hunt with Michael Waddell. I actually got to do it.
The invitation came through TrueTimber and the state of Wyoming for the Wyoming Governor’s Cup—an invitational turkey hunt where landowners open up their ground, birds are managed responsibly, and the money goes back into conservation. It’s competitive. Teams are scored on combined bird weight, beard length and spur length. But at the end of the day, it’s still about doing it right—that and a lot of luck.
When your name is linked with Michael Waddell’s, high expectations are placed on you, whether you like it or not. I’ve worked with Michael before on several articles and even spent time with his family wakeboarding on the Chattahoochee, but I’d never hunted with him. I’ve watched the shows and heard the talk for years, but hunting together reveals more about a man than conversations or beers on the river ever could.
Heading West For Wild Turkeys
This was only my second hunt for Merriam’s turkeys and my first in Wyoming. The most exciting part is that here in northeast Wyoming is one of the few places where pure-blood Merriam’s live. Many other areas have hybrids, but not here. These birds have the purest white tips on their feathers.
Back home, I hunt Easterns and Rios in Texas and eastern Oklahoma, mostly opportunistically. I generally sit tight and let them come through. Out West, it doesn’t work like that. The country is bigger, more open, and less forgiving.
The shadows of Devils Tower don’t conceal mistakes. There are rolling grass hills, pockets of pine, and long sightlines. You can’t rush this hunt, and if you don’t listen long enough, you lose.
Michael showed up in TrueTimber, which still turns heads if you’ve followed his career. He helped build Realtree. His rise in turkey hunting happened while wearing that pattern. Seeing him in a competitor’s camo felt strange, like running into an old friend with his new girlfriend you didn’t know about.
But this wasn’t drama. It wasn’t personal. It was a decision made after decades in the industry, and Michael addressed it himself in a short video during the trip—clear, direct, no theatrics.
He talks about timing. About evolution. About knowing when something has run its course and when it’s time to move forward. Michael’s just a guy who’s spent his life in the woods making a call for himself and standing by it. Once we stepped out of the truck, none of that mattered. Camo doesn’t make the man. His character and abilities do, and there’s a reason Michael is one of the best.
Getting Set Up For A Merriam’s Showdown
We were set up well before shooting light, tucked into a pine patch with the sky still dark. Michael made a soft call, and the hills lit up. Gobble after gobble echoed back to us. Not just one bird—a whole group. You could hear how fired up they were.
I caught some of it on video, but that doesn’t capture the real feeling. The way your pulse kicks when birds answer like that before shooting light. The way you glance at the guy next to you and know this morning is already different.
Michael answered them, and they hammered back harder. He made small adjustments to his call, and the birds followed. He was steering the conversation. He stayed relaxed, as if this were normal. For him, it probably was. For me, it was eye-opening. I’ve spent entire mornings trying to get birds to talk like that. Michael stepped out of the truck and started a dialogue.
It’s Time For Michael Waddell To Talk Turkeys
Michael told me I was up first as he knew he could give me a great show. Truth be told, I never really had the full strutting show. As I said earlier, I hunt turkey opportunistically.
Michael called. The birds answered. Every gobble came closer. Louder. More aggressive. Then I saw him. A full-strut Merriam’s, standing tall, snow-white feather tips glowing. A pure Western wild turkey.
Michael whispered for me to shoot.
I waited. Not out of hesitation, but out of respect. I wanted to see it. The bird. The land. The fact that Michael Waddell was behind me, calling this turkey straight into my lap.
I waited for what seemed like 10 minutes, taking it all in, but realistically, it was about five seconds. I pulled the trigger. The TSS load did what it’s supposed to do. The bird dropped right there.
The pause before the shot was worth every penny. That experience is one I’ll carry with me forever.
Michael Waddell On The Trigger
Later, it was Michael’s turn. I’ll be honest, I didn’t think midday birds were going to happen. They were scattered across big country. We crested a hill and dropped fast when he said birds were coming. I didn’t see anything at first. Then the feather tips appeared over a grassy knob. We belly-crawled into position. Michael slid behind a bush, made one call, and the tom committed hard.
One shot, and then we just sat laughing, replaying it, letting it sink in. We just bagged two birds in about three hours, and both were solid birds with clean kills.
Two For The Wyoming Governor’s Cup Win!
Back in town, the birds were weighed, beards measured, spurs checked. We knew we had solid birds, but in the Governor’s Cup, luck always plays a role. As the day went on, it became clear we were near the top.
When the final tally came in, Waddell and I had won the Wyoming Governor’s Cup together! Later that evening, when they called our names for the trophy, we strutted up to the stage with the confidence of a bird coming to Michael’s call. I’m just glad the announcer didn’t have any TSS.
Must-Visit Hotspots In Deadwood, South Dakota
Deadwood isn’t just a tourist stop. It’s almost a town stuck in a time capsule to preserve what’s left of the Old West. If you’re coming out of the Black Hills or Wyoming after a hunt, this is where you stop to order a whiskey and let the West speak for itself.
Saloon No. 10: Where Wild Bill Hickok was killed holding the Dead Man’s Hand, it still has that rough-and-gritty feel of old-time saloons. Sit down and take it in.
Mount Moriah Cemetery: It is a short climb with a big view. Wild Bill and Calamity Jane are buried up top, looking out over the Black Hills like they never left.
Main Street: Brick buildings, worn bars, old casinos, and stories that haven’t been cleaned up. Take a stroll through history.
Deadwood Mountain Grand: A converted gold processing plant with a solid bar and a hell of a music lineup. It’s a good place to end the day if you’re not racing to the airport.
H&B TRAVEL TIP: Eat well. Drink something brown. Remember that adventure didn’t start on Instagram—it started when people were willing to bet everything and head West.
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