by Brian Lovett, T&TH editor
The sun was finally heating up the Wisconsin countryside when I reached the field edge. After a morning with little gobbling, I figured some cold-calling was in order.
“Better check over the ridge in the corn,” I thought.
Sure enough, two hens were feeding in the stubble just over the property
line. Within minutes after I set up, another joined them. But after an
hour or more of calling, no gobblers had arrived. Time to leave.
I hoofed up the field edge and was within 120 yards of my truck when I
figured I could at least try to strike a bird on the neighbor’s ridge.
My yelps produced nothing. However, a noisy red-tailed hawk elicited a
shock gobble just over the rise.
There were no good setups available, so I backed down the hill, sat at
the only available tree and started in on the aluminum call. Two birds
fired back ‹- no, three. There was also one far to my left.
Five minutes and some in-your-face gobbling later, the two birds
arrived, and I shot the trailing longbeard — a dandy 3-year-old. Had I
waited much longer, the bird to my left would have joined them.
“Weird,” I thought. “No hens up here, yet no gobblers down by the field corner.”
Yeah, it was a bit odd, but I gave it a big thumbs-up.