By Daniel Schmidt, editor
I’ve said it many times when preparing for deer hunts, and will now adopt
the phrase as a point of motivation when things get tough during turkey
season. “You just never know.”
I said it first thing this morning when exhaustion begged me to ripped the
alarm clock’s cord out of the wall and roll back to sleep. It was only the
second day of my Wisconsin turkey period and, after being completely dissed
by numerous gobblers yesterday, I assured myself today could bring different
I said it again after hearing the morning’s first two gobblers sounding off
from across two nearby roads and a creek. They were off my property, but I
was going to call to them anyway.
Because you just never know.
When they did gobble at my soft yelps, I decided to shut up and hang tight.
Sure enough, they eventually crossed the roads and the creek. But then they
hooked up with some hens and faded into the distance. Desperate to bring
them in for a look-see before the party was over, I yelped louder. Then
cutt. Then realized the merry band wasn’t coming any closer.
After sitting tight for another hour, I tucked my diaphragm call between my
lip and gum and reached for the slate. I hadn’t purred to these gobblers all
morning and figured, “What the heck … you just never know.”
Guess what? Those birds did an about-face — leaving the hens and making a
bee-line for what they must have thought was a sure thing. Within minutes, I
was cutting apart my crow call’s lanyard so I could tied my tag to the lead
When I called my wife, Tracy, with the good news, she quickly informed me
that she’d be fixing the year’s first asparagus crop to go with the
pineapple-grilled turkey breast. She also reminded me where we’d be sitting
next Wednesday morning when it’s her turn to sit behind the shotgun.
I’d tell you the logic behind that decision, but you probably already know.