Friday, May 3, 2013
I wait for fly-down time. I hear wing beats from the 10 o'clock gobbler and make a single, short fly-down cackle. I hear the other gobbler pitch down. He double gobbles when he hits the ground. The other answers. Perfect, I make a series of yelps and wait. Another double gobble and the bird is closer. I turn slightly and get the old 870 pointed to the intersection. Both birds are now gobbling and moving closer. I think, as I did on Wednesday that this is going to be quick. Suddenly it is silent. More silence follows, a single gobble from the knob across the hollow. Then another single gobble on the same knob, about 200 yards from the first. Something boogered them up again. Living in coyote city must be hard on everything. I sit for a half hour and hear nothing from the turkeys. Oh well, on the bright side; it sounds as if all of the Hooded Warblers arrived last night. Maybe tomorrow.
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