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   For the past several weeks, when I do not go out turkey hunting, I like to sit on the porch, drink coffee, and practice my turkey calling. Most mornings, anywhere from two to six turkeys come out of the timber on the far side of the lake where they strut, preen and eat. I can see what effect my calling has on them. The gobblers will usually strut or gobble. Some days, when they do not have hens with them, they will even come toward the house. I have been having a good time seeing how close they will get before veering off, down the dam and off into the timber again.

   Apparently, my gray sweatsuit and bedroom slippers work well as camouflage. On the porch, with my back against the gray house, I am almost invisible.

   Thursday morning, as usual, I had my cup of coffee and turkey call in hand on the porch as it was getting light out. Two gobblers flew down to the top of the dam and started strutting. I would call and they would answer but I could not get them to move. A hen was also calling a few hundred yards away, but the gobblers stayed put and waited for hens to come to them. I gave them my hen imitations and finally gave up when I could not get them to come any closer.

   Back in the house, I relaxed, watching the news. My wife got up to re-fill our coffee cups and glanced out of the window over the sink. She turned and exclaimed, “Your turkeys are coming!” They must have gone down the dam, into the pasture and circled back toward the house. I got up to see the two gobblers slowly making their way up the emergency spillway to the lake. This is a flat area with a sharp drop off just past the edge of the lawn that lets excess water out of the lake during high water.

   My first order of business was to get Jag put inside. He loves to hunt, but the barking little dog is not nearly as much help at turkey hunting as he thinks he is. I quietly coaxed him into the garage and shut the door. Going back into the house, I ran to the closet, and grabbed my shotgun, while my wife watched the gobblers and reported their position to me.

   Still in my slippers and sweatsuit, I sneaked out the front door and across the porch. Walking cautiously toward the spillway, I could not see the gobblers. This meant they had either spooked and ran off when I came outside, or they were still in the spillway over the edge where I could not see them. If they were in the spillway, they could also not see me. I walked slowly and quietly toward the edge of the lawn. My slippers did not make a sound as I walked on the green grass covered in dew. The closer I got to the spillway, the more convinced they had bolted before I saw them. I knew, as close as I was getting to the limited area I could not see or be seen, if the gobblers were still there, it would be an explosive exit. I was starting to relax, thinking they were gone when they both flew up, not thirty feet from me. Startled at first, I regained my composure in time to swing up and fire. My spring turkey tag was filled, and we would have grilled turkey for dinner.

   Without my wife serving as spotter, I would have never known I had successfully called in the turkeys. We make a great team.

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