This was the first gobble of the spring. At least the first that I had heard and spring had not yet begun to sprung. However, this gobble, the one lone gobble of the morning, will be what gets my husband and me through the next month of waiting. March, the month of preparation, hunting videos, and rekindled stories of gobblers spitting, drumming, and gobbling their way to the dinner table. Of course these stories have grown much more impressive in their winter lull, but that is what makes them so fun to hear again. Turkey season will possess our thoughts and test our patience, as we wait with hope of hitting the breeding season perfectly.

As we step back inside, Patrick is already plotting his strategy for that particular bird. He hurriedly dials the phone to tell his hunting buddies what he just heard. I am sure they appreciated the wake up call. As any serious turkey hunter knows, there is nothing like hearing the first gobble of spring. Just like there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that can compare to turkey hunting. It doesn’t matter how many gobblers you call in, each time it is just as exciting as the first. Hearing the gobble from a distance, and then waiting as it comes closer, lured by your much practiced calling. The gobbles, now shaking the ground, will send a chill up the most experienced hunter’s spine. Then you hear the drumming shaking the leaves just before you finally see that head. Your already pounding heart rate doubles as the red head closes the distance into shooting range. Then you pause your shot just long enough to admire the show the old tom is putting on for that plastic hen. It is an amazing adventure.

Gobbling fever is what they call it, and I just got it bad. In fact, it’s contagious, you should be careful, it spreads through little anecdotes like this one. After all this I know why Mr. Franklin wanted the turkey to be our national symbol. They are amazing creatures, but boy am I glad they picked the eagle, they would not be near as fun to hunt.