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Discussion Starter #1 (Edited)
I was living in central Missouri in the spring of 1998. I was excited about the upcoming turkey season and had sceduled vacation days off work for the opening week of the season. The season finally opened on Tuesday and I was out there every morning before daylight and every evening to put them to roost. There had been a lot of good gobbling and had some birds interested in my calling, but I could not coax one into range. At least not in range and visible at the same time. After five days of this I was becoming a little aggravated, although still loving every minute of it. My wife had made plans for us on Saturday night to go out with some friends. It was a late light and we had a few cocktails. Needless to say, when the alarm went off at 4:00 am on Sunday morning it went unheeded. I awoke at 8:00, disgusted with myself and threw on my camo and grabbed my shotgun. Since I was so late, I decided to go hunt a freind's farm just a couple miles out of town. I pulled up to the spot where I usually park and saw two gobblers feeding in the middle of large field. I began to work in on them on the low side of the field when I saw a third gobbler not 50 yards from me. How he did not see me, I will never understand. I sat right down beneath a large cedar and made a call. He was right in front me in just a few seconds. My 10 ga. put an end to his strutting, and I was back at the truck 12 minutes after I had parked it. When I returned home with my prize, my wife said, "Why did'nt you just to that last Tuesday instead of hunting all week"!
 

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Isn't that always the way? I don't know how many times my wife has made that comment to me, about any number of things. They just don't get the concept of "right time, right place"., and "consider carefully and do it right the first time".

Now I better duck when I go home!
 
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