We break out of the Oak Forest onto a dirt road and the camouflaged man ahead of me, immediately drops to his knees. He picks up the droppings with his gloved hand and crushes them, "Yesterday," he announces.

The muddy road is covered with tracks. He points out a larger set, showing how the middle toe is longer than the other two, and the fact that they have sunk deeper into the mud ... "a long beard."

A heavier bird and the longer middle toe indicate a gobbler is running with these hens. Off to the side, he picks up a plump, swollen acorn, "There's still acorns left on this flat open bench. Look at the meat in this nut. That's why they're here." The hens are here because of food. The gobblers are here because of the ladies.

The man emits a loud call with the diaphragm in his mouth, with enough power behind it to cover long distances ... a yelping hen. Far off, a gobbler answers.

"We're going to walk AWAY from the road," he tells me, "because it symbolizes danger to him. We'll circle around him," he explains. "And we'll call him in with the sun in his eyes."

A Crash Course On Turkeys
I'm taking a crash course in spring gobbler hunting. I want to get better at this sport faster so I hired a guide. You can watch all the videos you want, practice calling as you drive in your vehicle, read books on the habits of turkeys, and they all help; but nothing can replace actually going into the woods, watching them, listening to them, communicating with them with someone who knows.

The author practices a slate call before the hunt.

I'm also trying to rid myself of some of the frustration I feel every season. "Why wouldn't the gobbler come in? Was it spooked? Was it my calling? Is he "call shy?" Was it how I was set up? I longed to better understand the whole scenario.

We started the day off listening to my guide call and then me trying to imitate him. "If you learn to call without knowing the right "voice," you will think it sounds fine; unless someone who knows hears you," he says. "But it is so important to sound correct to a turkey. It isn't just the talk, it is the rhythm."

You must learn to create a rhythm in the calling that sounds believable to a turkey.

"I'm going to teach you how to be invisible, to be aware of other sounds in the woods, like a chipmunk chattering just as the gobbler is coming in," he says. "That's a warning call to him and it could blow your whole cover."

My guide slowly walks around, calling in all directions, scraping his striker, varying the pressure he applies. But the gobbler clams up and doesn't respond to this soft call. So he tries a very loud aggressive call and the bird responds in full force.

"What I'm saying as a hen is ... 'Oh, I gotta have it!'" and he's saying, 'I'm coming baby!' From everything I've been seeing in the woods lately, these gobblers are with hens. We have to entice them away from the harem he already has and that could only be an aggressive female, wanting to mate."

Thinking Like A Turkey
It isn't just the particular strategies and tactics of a hunt that I want to learn, but also how to think and feel like a turkey. If you can understand what is happening in their lives, learn their habits, their drives, etc., we have a better chance of seeing more game, yet alone enjoy a delicious meal. After we set ourselves up and call in the proud strutting gobbler, we call it a day. I return home to practice and wait for the season to open.

The day of our hunt is a picture perfect spring day -- wood thrush singing, and fiddlehead ferns poking up through the forest duff. The woods are greening up a bit. Last night, we did a serious "walk about" to locate some gobblers and "put them to bed" in their roost. My instructor got a few to gobble and then after a half-hour once they settled down, they answered strong again.

"We don't go into the woods and wait for it to happen ... we make it happen," he says. Locating birds is one of the most important aspects of this success story. It isn't absolutely necessary, but it sure helps.

We find a good oak tree to line ourselves up with and he says, "Look behind you to see what the turkey will see. You may need to hide better." He positions me in relation to the last gobble. "Point your shoulder to the right of the sound, so you have a 180 degree swing. If you face the bird straight on, you'll only have a 90 degree swing."

A Jake Appears
As we're listening to a few gobblers coming in, a jake suddenly materializes 20 yards away. "Don't shoot," he commands. He wants the long beards to strut by me and put on a real show. When I take my safety off, it alerts him. He detects no movement, and begins to do an alarm putt. My instructor gives him a few purrs to calm him down, but he knows something is wrong with this picture so he begins to walk slowly away.

"Do you want him?" I hear my instructor whisper. A turkey's low frequency hearing is not that acute so I say back in a quiet voice, "Yeah."

"Shoot," he said and I squeeze the trigger and the bird goes down.

My instructor is thrilled with my success. Although he is a jake, he is a rarity, for he has three distinct beards. As we walk back, turkey slung over my shoulder, we review the hunt. Next time I should muscle over my safety, squeeze it with two fingers as opposed to popping it, the guide advised.

The author's jake is a rarity because he has three distinct beards.

Although it feels great to be "bringing home the bacon," what I really loved about this whole thing is that I now know turkeys better. Every time I am in the woods, on their turf, observing them, learning about them or hunting them, I feel more connected to this beautiful and challenging gamebird ... thanks to an excellent instructor.

Contact your local chapter of the National Wild Turkey Federation and ask for possible guides/instructors or hunters who are capable and who might be interested in sharing their expertise.