Decision at Dawn
Wednesday, May 1, was the fourth day of this year’s gobbler season.
I had accompanied my son, Bob, on the windy opening morning and had helped turn around a 21-pound gobbler with a 10-inch beard that he shot.
On Tuesday morning, I had been bested by a couple of gobblers that wouldn’t cross a deep hollow to investigate my calling. However, I figured I’d set up across the hollow on Wednesday, coming in to it from a different direction.
I’d risen long before dawn and had hiked to the spot in the dark. I had just settled in under a large tree when the flapping of wings and the cackling of turkeys...
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