The first and most important thing that you should impress on your mind is, that the turkey-cocks gobble for a reason.
Why does the gobbler stand in one spot and make a great ado? Every turkey, whether born in Florida or Mexico, does the same, and at the same period of the year, because his gobbling and strutting is to let the hens know where he is, and if he keeps it up every hen in hearing will come to him. The gobble of the male turkey is his love-call. In the early spring, when nature begins to unfold its latent energies and develop its dormant resources for creating new life, the old gobbler feels its impulses, and is not slow in asserting his place as leader of the grand aggregation of noisy choristers that make the deep solitudes of the forests ring to the echo. From some tall pine or cypress he loudly proclaims the approach of dawn. "Gil-obble-obble-obble, quit, quit cut," comes the love-call from his excited throat, so suddenly and unexpectedly that all the smaller species within a hundred yards are dazed with fright. I often thought that, if he possessed any faculty of humor, he must be greatly amused at the commotion he creates all by himself.
Big woods in Louisiana where the old gobblers roam at will. A delightful place in which to camp
He stands erect on his high perch, peering in all directions to determine the next thing to do, or to ascertain the result of that already done, and it often happens that this is the last and only gobble he will produce that morning, owing to its being accidental. But he will stand upon the limb of his roost quietly looking about, and after preening his plumage for a few moments, and seeing that no enemy lurks near, he stoops, spreading his great curved wings, and silently as a summer's breeze leaves the tree and sails to the earth fifty to seventy-five yards from his perch. He stands perfectly still some moments until satisfied all is well, then he carefully places the tip of one wing on the other across his back once or twice, and walks slowly away to feed. A few mornings later, if the air be crisp, clear, and not too cold, he will gobble lustily many times before he flies down, for the first warm days of spring begin to arouse his animal instincts and he longs for the society of his mates.
He is now in the prime of turkeyhood, in his finest feather and flesh. He is fat and plump, hence this is the stage at which the hunter, most of all, prefers to bag him; but he is no easy game to secure just now.
If he ever were afraid of his own voice, step, or shadow, it is at this time; but the forest is ringing with a din of bird song, and it is impossible to restrain his impulse to "gil-obble-obble-obble." Making one or two quick steps, he raises his head and says "put-put," then stands perfectly still, his great hazel eyes scanning every leaf or bird that moves.
Why does he gobble? It is the call of nature to break up his loneliness and secure the society of his mates. Turkeys do not mate in pairs, they are polygamous, loving many wives.
I wish to direct attention to the common and erroneous belief, even among expert turkey hunters, that it is the call-note of the hen that brings the sexes together. This is incorrect. It is the call of the male. It was after years of study that I discovered this fact, which, once plain to my mind, assured my success as a turkey hunter. I found that the gobbler was doing the same thing I was doing; I was struggling with all my ability and tact to draw him out, while he was playing the same game on me; it was a question of who had the greater patience. If I remained and insisted on his approach, he would yield and come to me. Here is his customary method: At the very break of day, the weather being favorable, he begins to gobble in the tree in which he is roosting. The gobbling is produced at very irregular intervals, sometimes with long, silent spaces between, at others in rapid succession. Some turkeys gobble a great deal more than others. Some will gobble but once or twice before they come down, and gobble no more that day; others will not gobble until they fly down, and then keep it up for hours. Some will gobble all day from sunrise to sunset. All these various idiosyncrasies the knowledge of the hunter must meet. Some will come to the yelp or cluck at the first imitation of the sound, while others will take hours to make up their minds whether to come at all. Take it all together, the gobbler has most obstinate ways, purposely or not; the wily hunter must bring all his faculties to bear if he would outwit him.