No matter what state you’re in morning comes awful early at hunting camp. Waking with just enough time to throw on some clothes and put on still damp boots we walked out of the cabin into the predawn darkness. Unsure which direction to head, due to our lack of scouting success, we headed toward to a location close to Emory’s ridge, as good a place to start as any.After placing a hen and jake decoy in the field we eased back into the piney shadows and donned head nets and gloves. The setting was ideal. Soft calling from my Lynch’s Foolproof box call echoed through adjoining oaks and pines but evoked no responses. The woods were coming alive with all types of animal and avian activity but no turkeys made themselves known. Finally we heard a gobble way off, probably a half a mile, in the distance. He gobbled four times and went silent. We sat in our location for twenty more minutes and moved to another spot, calling a little and waiting a little, then moving to yet another location. The results were the same. It seemed all turkeys within the vicinity had lockjaw. We decided to pack it in and go have some breakfast.
Following some bacon and eggs we got back to it. We drove to a new location and split up, Emory choose some hardwoods next to a large pond and I headed down to a large, lush clover field. There was some good sign around the field edges with scratchings and droppings and a large dusting bowl. As soon as I got myself set up it began to sprinkle and I thought, “Great, this will get those birds out of the thick stuff and into the fields.” Things were looking up. I made a couple calls with my slate and as if on cue the clouds broke loose and a downpour began, soaking my calls and my spirits. I sat for a little while and decided I’d had enough, packed up my gear and headed back toward the truck. Emory walked up right after I did and we drove back to camp to wait out the storm. Our wait lasted through the day as the rain continued into the night. Maybe we would do better in the morning.
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