Photo by John Higley

Last March, the first gobble on opening day of the spring turkey season caught us by surprise. My hunting buddy and I were still standing by our pickup truck, loading our hunting vests and sipping the last of our black coffee. Then a throaty tom sounded off from a nearby ridge.

“Gad!” I said. “He’s right above us, and he’s awake early. We’ve got to get closer while he’s still on the roost!”

We scooted up the slope below the tom. Coming to a flat, grassy opening in the blue oaks, we decided to go no farther. We figured that when the tom flew down from his pine tree roost near the crest of the ridge, he might come directly downhill to us.

All we needed to do was let him know he had company in the form of a comely -- if bogus -- hen.

I stroked the paddle on my box call a few times to produce a string of soft yelps. Then I put the call down and waited. A booming, double gobble told us the tom was interested.

I had to grin behind my face mask.

“This might work,” I said in hushed tones to Robert Feamster, my son-in-law.

But then again, it might not.

As we sat there, contemplating the turkey’s exact fly-down time, I realized we weren’t alone. No, it wasn’t another hunter, a deer or even a bear, for that matter.

It was hen turkeys -- one of the worst interruptions you can have on a turkey hunt! They were sounding off between the tom and us.

There was nothing we could do but listen as two or three feathered beauties hiked up the slope in the tom’s direction. Presently, a string of excited of gobbles told us Mr. Big had flown down from his perch and was with the ladies.

A few minutes later, he followed them out of hearing, effectively disappearing for the rest of the day.

I felt like kicking myself. By not attending to details, we’d blown a perfectly good opportunity. Had we bothered to roost the tom the evening before, we’d have known exactly where to set up in the morning.

Of course there are no guarantees, but that would have given us a much better shot at success.

Despite our lack of foresight, however, the spring season was full of promise. The weather was exceptionally mild, and the turkeys were talking. And there were several weeks left to hunt.