Postseason melancholy has set in, and it is never too early to start obsessing about the next hunt. Wisconsin was kind enough to provide me with 6 in state tags this year. The 6th season has been my jinx season, or maybe I should refer to it as the turkey jester season. I had been doing the Snoopy dance each previous seasons with a gobbler at my feet and the intense feeling of invincibility coursing through my veins. With two 6th season tags in my pocket, this would be the year of 6th season gobblers. Of course, that was the invincible thought going into the season. Reality soon set in; spring growth from 5th to 6th season was shocking to behold — areas where you could see last week – no longer so. Forcing me to set up on a field edge, I could see here that is as long as the expected gobbler entered the field but noooo! He the Gobbler started spitting and drumming behind me so close I swear I can feel his exhale on my neck. No see, no shoot. This is repeated time and again all season. The memory highlight occurred on May 23 I found a “loud mouth” gobbler at 5:30 am and worked him non stop until 4:30 pm suffering cramped seriously puckered wing bone lips and a severe case of leg cramp in my right hand. Suddenly the gobbling feathered submarine went “up periscope” in range, in front of my bead. His neck and head were all black with only a red skull cap on top. I hesitated to confirm the identity of the target. “Down Periscope” and back to loud mouth gobbling for another hour without an opportunity repeat. It is just amazing how my “can we have a replay” look to the sky never helps get that replay. The next weekend with no open season, in a field where I can hunt, a gobbler lights up at 9 am and gobbles over the next 2 hours. Not sure if he was laughing at me or frustrated by lack of hen interest. It was a great season filled 4 out of 6 tags. The remaining tags were not half bad as a condiment on a grilled Greek turkey burger.
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