For three days leading up to my turkey hunt, I woke up and looked at the clock to figure out how much earlier I would need to wake up to be at Staci's house on time. Aside from ticks, the worst part of turkey hunting is the early start time. The day of my hunt arrived and armed with my coffee, I drove to Staci's house to find some turkeys. Her husband, John, agreed to be our designated turkey caller. Deer ran through the woods off to our right and a partridge drummed continuously as we walked to our first spot. The world was waking up all around us but there were no turkeys to answer our calls, so we moved. I spotted the first birds of the morning, a tom fanned out with three hens (or two hens and a jake) so we...
