As I lean against a familiar oak tree, I pop in a diaphragm call. Before I can release the soft tree yelp that I've obsessively perfected for the past 2 months, a gobbler sounds off … and he's not far. I position the call perfectly on the roof of my mouth and respond with a seductive whisper to let him know I'm in the neighborhood. While I'm tempted to respond to his hammering pleas, I shut my mouth. When the time is right, I remove my hat and mimic the beating wings of a fly down hen and cluck twice as I scrape the leaves to invite him into my bedroom. Seconds later, the unmistakable sound of a ground level gobble excites my ear drums. He's on his way.
I check my watch. It's just minutes into legal shooting light. I look through the eyepiece of my Weaver KASPA VZT turkey scope—plenty of light to see the shimmer of a silent strutter creeping through the brush. He hangs up at 60-ish yards. A chamber full of Winchester's Long Beard XR puts this otherwise too-far tom into fatal range for roasting. Turkey's on the dinner menu tonight!