Very early memory here. Grandfather took me on opening day for spring turkey in SW Virginia. I think it was Big Walker Mountain. Before we left his truck he instructed me to not say even a single word while he called birds. Once in the woods he quickly connected with a Tom on the next ridge over. He called and the Tom would answer, always getting a little closer. Closer and closer (we could see him) and then it stopped and we lost sight of him. PaPa kept calling right up to 12:00 noon. That’s when Spring gobbler season ends, at 12:00 noon. He pointed at his watch and I knew that meant it was over. When I stood up to stretch the bird exploded behind us and flew away. Scared the heck out of me. My PaPa laughed his butt off. He had been watching us for over an hour. What a bird.
I see them all the time now, just driving around.
Last week I saw a beautiful Tom strttin his stuff for the ladies present. Very pretty.