I rang out several yelps on my glass call, strained to hear something through the wind and then slowly turned toward the truck.
That was it. My season was finished, and it was time to put up the calls and move on to summer pursuits.
When I reached my truck, however, there was a message from a friend on my cell phone.
"Got a strutter located," it said.
Whoa. That changed everything. But the message was an hour old. Was there still time? I turned the truck eastward, intent on finding out.
When I reached the area, the strutter was gone. No matter. He'd probably just walked into the woods, so I'd strike him there.
However, after a long walk and several calling sequences, it became obvious he wasn't around or at least wasn't answering.
And with that, the season was truly finished. I trudged back to the truck, thinking about the highs and lows of the spring: good hunts, bad hunts and mundane moments. The last-ditch effort was certainly one of the latter, but with summer knocking at the door, it was still time well spent.