There's a moment in early April, somewhere between the last hard freeze and the first green tinge on the hillsides, when a gobble rips through the timber at first light and something primal fires in your chest. It doesn't matter how many springs you've done this. That sound does something to a person that's hard to explain to anyone who hasn't heard it while crouched against a white oak in the dark, shotgun across their knees, palms sweating in forty-degree air.
Eastern wild turkeys are one of the great hunting animals in North America. Not because they're the biggest or the most dangerous, but because they will humble you in ways that deer and ducks simply cannot. A mature gobbler has survived multiple hunting seasons by being suspicious of everything. He's spent his whole life eating and avoiding being eaten, and h...