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Editor Finds Rest, Peace

by Brian Lovett, editor

After whiffing on the hottest turkey I'd seen in years (see the previous
blog entry), the pressure was on.

Trying to seem unfazed by the miss, I headed to a good roost spot the next
morning. However, after hearing only one gobble and suffering numerous
mosquito bites, a change of scenery was in order.

I drove to a spot I hadn't hunted all season and prepared to walk and strike
a long hardwood ridge. After my first series of yelps, two birds fired back
on the neighbor's ridge. There was a large hayfield between us, so I had no
choice but to sit five yards into the woods and try to call them across.

And it worked ... Almost. The birds gobbled themselves into a frenzy, came
off the ridge and entered the field. There was a small rise between me and
them, so I figured they'd at least top that to seek the hen.

Instead, they stayed just below the rise, gobbling their fool heads off.
Occasionally, I could see one of the birds about 80 yards away. Once, I
glimpsed the closer bird's head at about 60 steps.

Eventually, the gobblers drifted off and lost interest, and I lost hope. I
went to work and tried to form a game plan for the morning.

And then I got lucky. On the way home from work, I drove past a large farm I have permission to hunt. There, like a gift from heaven, was a black
puffball in a stubble field. Somehow, things fell together, and 20 minutes
later, I was toting a dandy 3-year-old to my truck.

Now, I can look back on the spring in peace. Unless, of course, I go back
after the two field birds.

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