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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"!
