Wild Turkey-Shooting. 763 



A very delicate ear, trained to catch the sounds of the woods, 

 can detect the slightest peculiarity in the note of a turkey-hen; 

 and as the gobbler catches the familiar sound, he gobbles, but 

 remains standing erect as a statue of patience. He has been 

 deceived by hunters before, but this call was so like one of his 

 wives that, in spite of his suspicious nature, he almost resolves to 

 go to her ; but still he stands and listens. A less experienced hunter 

 would call again ; but we remain quiet a long time. Patience is the 

 great secret in the art of turkey-hunting. He becomes impatient, 

 and gobbles. Still no answer. Then a low, seductive call, as much as 

 to say, very coquettishly, it is immaterial, Sir Knight, whether you 

 come or not. He has located the call, and decides to go to it. A 

 young gobbler has joined him who dares not strut in his presence, 

 but precedes the old cock, who struts leisurely behind, using the 

 young gobbler as a guard in front. They are still approaching very 

 cautiously. In the meantime, the hunter is stretched on his back, 

 with his head and shoulders resting against the foot of a giant oak, 

 his gun on his knees, and his dog crouched low beside him. They 

 are now close enough for a shot. A novice would have shot at the 

 foremost ; the skilled hunter aims at the head of the hindmost. 

 For two reasons: first, he is the largest; second, it will leave the 

 remaining turkey nearer for the second barrel. At the crack of the 

 gun, the old bird falls flopping to earth in a death struggle, with a 

 load of No. 6 shot in his head. The other runs off as fast as his 

 legs can carry him. He has not even time to rise and fly, before 

 the other barrel, loaded with B.Bs, cuts him down. 



Let us go again in the afternoon, and see if we can find a gobbler 

 on his feeding-grounds. We try our callers, but hear no answer. 

 We then call fast and loud, like a hen that had returned from her 

 nest among the hills and, finding no company in the bottom, feels 

 lonesome. A long silence follows; we are tempted to call again, but 

 experience has taught us that too much calling at this hour will 

 excite suspicion. Presently we hear the puff and drum of the strut, 

 and we know he has heard our call, and is looking for us. Now he 

 passes within short range. Do not move; before you could raise 

 your gun he would dart behind a tree and be off like a shot. He is 



ing a tree ; now, while he is behind it, place you gun in position. 

 He steps out, you fire at his head, and the white turban sinks to 



