March, 1921 
FOREST AND STREAM 
103 
tire flock will be feeding 
in the trees, ravenously 
devouring the tender 
spring buds of such trees 
as the ash, hackberry, 
oak, etc., and especially 
are they fond of the 
fringe-like bloom of the 
beech. Perched on branch- 
es bending and swaying 
beneath the weight of 
their bodies, they are kept 
almost constantly in mo- 
tion, spreading their 
wings and tails in the ef- 
fort to balance them- 
selves, while stretching 
their long necks endeav- 
oring to reach the coveted 
food. Many lose their 
equilibrium and fall flut- 
tering to the earth. While 
engaged in budding, a 
flock of turkeys can be 
heard for a quarter of a 
mile, and they become so 
intent upon securing 
their food that one can 
walk right under them 
and take his choice. 
Calling during the gob- 
bling season is a most ex- 
hilarating and fascinat- 
ing sport, and is the de- 
light of the turkey hunt- 
er. This season begins 
about the first of March 
and lasts through April. 
It sometimes begins 
later, depending upon the 
thermal conditions of the 
spring. At this time the 
old gobblers are in the 
prime o f turkeyhood; 
their breast sponge is 
full of rich, sweet fat, 
and they are in the finest 
flesh and feather. As the 
season advances they become ema- 
ciated, as most of their time is spent 
in gobbling, strutting and otherwise 
showing evidences of polite attention to 
the seductive females, during which 
time they eat practically nothing, but 
subsist upon the reservoir of oil in the 
breast sponge. 
From the stolid, wary, retiring crea- 
ture of winter, the old gobbler sallies 
forth in the spring a pompous, vain 
bird, intent only in soliciting and at- 
tracting the attention and admiration of 
the gentle sex. His loving and wooing 
progresses smoothly until the proverbial 
“rainy day,” when he becomes the most 
disconsolate creature on earth, and 
spends his time protecting his plumage 
with as much caution as a woman be- 
stows upon an Easter hat. Verily the 
old gobbler is a bird of mystery and 
surprises; one day he is wary, elusive 
and sly, and cannot be persuaded to ap- 
proach you no matter how perfectly you 
may call ; the next day he may cast dis- 
cretion aside and walk boldly up. 
! 
O LD turkey hunters would have us 
believe that turkey calling is as 
difficult to learn as playing the 
violin. That to interpret turkey ver- 
Courtesy of American Museum of Natural History. 
The wild turkey in its natural habitat 
nacular is as bewildering as attempting 
to decipher the hieroglyphs on the Pyra- 
mids of ancient Egypt. That the in- 
strument employed in calling should be 
as perfect in tone as the finest and most 
delicate of musical instruments. This is 
all camouflage! To begin with, turkey 
lingo is as much emotional as conversa- 
tional, and with a little practice 
amongst domestic turkeys anyone can 
sioon learn to imitate most of the notes 
made by the turkey. 
The “Gil-obble-obble-Obble” of the old 
gobbler is impossible to imitate, but is 
useless unless one wishes to kill hens, 
which is forbidden in most states; the 
“croc-croc” of the young gobbler is easy ; 
also the “keow-keow-keow-cluck-cluck” 
of the old hen. There is a feeding note 
that sounds like “put-t-o-o-r, put-t-o-o-r” 
that is more difficult to make, but is 
sometimes quite effective. However, the 
call of the old hen is most important. 
In the fall and early winter all young 
turkeys respond to her call, while in the 
spring her call is the siren song that 
lures the lovelorn gobbler to blissful 
happiness or to an untimely doom. The 
young gobbler’s call may be employed in 
late winter, when the young gobblers 
have deserted the family circle, but 
turkeys are so extremely gregarious 
that, when scattered, they respond to the 
call of any other turkey, and nearly all 
turkeys killed by calling are brought 
within range by the seductive call of 
the old hen. 
There are the leaf call, the box call, 
made in several patterns, but all employ- 
ing the friction method of producing 
sound, and the yelper, a telescope-shaped 
instrument, made of one, two, or three 
sections of some hollow material. A 
two-piece construction of the latter form 
is generally preferred; but a jimmy 
makes an excellent yelper, notwith- 
standing that its strong flavor may 
prove obnoxious to the uninitiated. The 
dimensions of the yelper are of little 
consequence, since the tone is controlled 
and modulated by the cupped palms of 
the hands. 
It is not so much the proficiency in 
calling that contributes to success, but 
rather the acute knowledge of the birds 
and their habitat, and the untiring pa- 
tience of the hunter. Turkeys are never 
in a hurry if unmolested, and to “out- 
wait” them is the severest test of sports- 
manship. Thus the great mystery with 
which old hunters surround calls and 
calling is a myth pure and simple. How- 
