Parked the truck at 7:15 a.m. yesterday morning. Made the slow walk across the greened-up pasture. Eased into the woods and heard nearby gobbling at 7:28. Took way too long choosing a setup spot. Found one. Sat down. Yelped on a slate. The birds hammered back, closer now. I put the call down, got my shotgun up, waited. Waited a little more. Saw two gobblers appear, looking, coming in, then another, lagging behind. The first two drifted right. Both gobbled hard. One popped into strut, the turkey I wanted. 7:58.
That afternoon I shipped my forthcoming turkey book to Stackpole . . .
Last night I taught a college writing class with the image of those gobblers crossing my mind . . .