“What did you do this weekend?”
“Oh, my friend and I toyed with the fragile emotions of a wild turkey. You?”
I was in mid rant about something, so I thought it was someone yelling. That’s how loud it was. We stood and waited. He called again, and again. Tromping through what was probably poison ivy, we went over a little mound and spotted him in the trees just below us.
He was standing on a log, all alone; we assumed he was looking for love. So, of course, we catfished him.
You can hear her giggling in the background.
He was very responsive and started to walk a little closer while puffing up a bit.
We did not get a full display until she played what we think is a fighting purr. We left this poor turkey not knowing if someone was going to fuck him or fight him. Sorry, Tom.
We could still hear him calling as we made it down the ridge.
Turkey hunters, please don’t yell at me if we got the calls and the body language wrong. I don’t hunt and really only eat these guys once a year!