My hunting buddy killed a jake that I called in way back in the mid-eighties when the birds were just starting to come in to the area I live in. I was hooked at that point, but it wasn't until '94 through trial and error (mostly error) that I killed my first, many have fallen to the same 870 Rem. since then. Weather like we're having in Ohio the last few weeks has got me thinking way too much about blasting a limb hanger. I got my first outdoor mag. a week ago with a gobbler on it and I won't take the plastic off. The anticipation is killing me, but isn't that the second best part?
Standing on a ridge top in southeast Ohio listening to the whipoorwills in the darkness of opening morning... Blasting the crow call just before first light... Hearing that first gobble... Sleepy hen calls as you set up... Fly down cackles and wings in the branches of trees... Clucking on the slate call... Gobble, gobble...BOOM!
Jeez. somebody tranq. me until the end of April.
