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   Saturday morning, the weather was more like it is supposed to be for turkey hunting. It was cool, but above freezing and the wind was calm. Unlike my last turkey hunting outing, I would not have to wear most of the clothes I own. I headed out into the darkness shortly before five and got situated in my blind well before daylight. I even remembered my coffee this morning. There are few pleasures in life like sitting in a turkey blind at the edge of the woods, sipping coffee while listening to the sounds of nature.

    The whip-poor-wills were slowing down on their frantic calling as the sky started to get light in the east. A few of the daytime birds started their morning calls when I heard turkeys fly down from their roosts. It sounded like they were across the creek perhaps a couple of hundred yards away. That was a good sign. I made a few clucks on my box call and was immediately answered by a gobbler. I did not want to work him too hard this early, just wanted him to know he should work his way over toward me. If he crossed the creek too soon, I would not be able to see him in the dim light. I waited a few minutes and called again. He was in the same place, but still interested in my call.

   When it got light enough to see to the creek, I started working him in earnest. He was polite enough to answer me but would not move. He must have had a group of hens with him. I used different calls to converse with him for over an hour before he took his harem and went in the opposite direction up into the long hayfield.

   Two deer moved along the edge of the timber and stood in front of the blind. They knew something was amiss, just not sure what. One would stamp its foot and then the other would do the same. I could not tell if they were concerned about my blind or the two turkey decoys out front. They spent at least ten minutes on full alert, alternating stamping their feet and giving an occasional snort. When they finally decided to leave, they watched over their shoulders as they cautiously walked away.

   I continued to call every few minutes, taking breaks to eat granola bars and drink coffee. At one point, as I set my coffee cup down and glanced out of the window and saw a turkey. It is though he magically appeared. I did not see him coming but he must have crossed at twin sluices. Being in the shadow of the tree line, I could not tell if it was a hen or a Tom. I called and he stepped out into the sunlit pasture. Then I could tell he was a gobbler. His feathers glistened like polished brass as he fanned out. I thought it was strange he would strut but not gobble but he was quite a distance away. He kept striding toward me only stopping to strut when I clucked at him. When he got closer, I could see he was a Jake. He had hatched last year and had a beard about an inch long. He was also probably ten pounds lighter than an old Tom. Jakes do not attempt to gobble often as it may attract the attention of an old Tom that might come beat him up. They will usually try to quietly sneak up on a hen. He came up and checked things out before I let him go on his way.

   Gobbling had stopped and I was running out of coffee. I decided to call it a successful hunt and head for the house. It had been a good morning.

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