Bill Sugg steered the truck down a dusty two-track, slowing momentarily by a huge clump of cedars.
"There's the blind," he said. "I call it The Condo. All it lacks is running
After Sugg dropped me off and parked the truck, I learned that he wasn't
kidding. The spacious cedar clump offered shade, cover and several
comfortable tree trunks. It was a prime spot for an afternoon nap - er,
When Sugg - president of Mossy Oak and the company's first true employee - returned, we settled in and started calling. We heard a few gobbles in response, but none of the birds moved closer. Eventually, the action slowed, so Sugg and I started discussing previous hunts.
Halfway through a tale about Florida, Sugg stopped and raised his binoculars.
"Turkeys coming," he said. "Hens. Two gobblers behind them."
Sure enough. Several hens trotted across the open Texas landscape and headed down the road toward us. The gobblers stayed well behind them and started to drift to my left.
Soon, drumming filled the air, and I was staring down the gun barrel at two
strutters 20 steps away. Trouble was, they were behind thick cedar brush. I
strained to find an opening, but any shot would have been iffy.
"They should move to the right toward the hens," I thought.
They did, but they also came closer ‹ much closer. Within seconds, they were about seven steps from our blind, peering inside The Condo. The lead bird got nervous and began to walk away. The strutter also turned to leave, and I let him walk a few steps ‹ before shooting him at about 12 yards.
"The Condo pays off again," Sugg said as we hoisted the longbeard into the
Absolutely. However, I felt a tinge of regret for missing that nap.