Under such circumstances, and they occur very often, the hunter will very soon note, after he has quit calling, the gobbler will gobble oftener, more furiously, and strut with greater vigor. This is the time when most turkey hunters make a fatal mistake, for if you call after the gobbler starts toward you, he will stop a while at that point, and go through all the maneuvers he has been worrying you with for some time, march back and forth to his recent stand and give you another hour or two of waiting, or perhaps he will go away to return no more. Do not make this mistake, but keep still, wait, and watch. Let the gobbler do the gobbling and strutting, and you do nothing but keep your eye on your rifle sights and watch for his appearance. When he suddenly stops gobbling and strutting look sharp and keep your gun leveled in the direction from which he is expected, but by no means have your gun in such a position that you will have to move it after the turkey is in sight. Some men have a habit of moving their guns about, although they have their heads and bodies hidden and quiet. They might as well get up and say "hello."
I soon saw the old gobbler stealing slowly through the brush
If a gobbler stops, and gobbles and struts in one place some time, while you are calling him, this is good evidence that he will come to you, if you have but patience and keep quiet; nine hunters out of ten, however, take the opposite view of it, and for the lack of good understanding of the turkey, and of patience, get up and go home at the very time when success would have crowned their efforts. Now, if a hen has gone to the gobbler, as will often occur, and they are out of your sight in the brush, you will know this to be the case by the long interval between gobbles; if it be fifteen to twenty minutes, you may be certain a hen is with him.
You cannot always be sure that a cessation of gobbling is for the purpose of attending the hen or of coming to you, but you will soon find out if you wait, as the turkey is sure to strut and gobble near the place after the caress is over; this has been my experience hundreds of times; in fact it is characteristic and habitual, and it rarely happens otherwise. Here is an instance: Two young men accompanied me once to a creek near the margin of a large prairie in Texas to see me call an old gobbler. At the dawn of day the gobbler broke forth into a lively gobbling, when we proceeded to an old fallen pine log to call him. Having waited for him to fly down from his roost, I began the regulation series of calls, clucks, etc. The turkey was a great gobbler and did his share of it, but he would not come immediately to the call. After a while one of the boys remarked that he heard a hen yelping near the gobbler, and then all gobbling ceased, and the boys remarked he had gone off with the hen. I said, "No, he is there yet." This silence lasted fifteen or twenty minutes, while the mosquitoes were covering the faces of the boys; but they were bent on seeing the play out and would squirm and rub off the pests, then listen and look, as they lay prone on the pine straw and peered over the log. Once in a while I would yelp, but no response came until the gobbler's attention to the hen had ceased; he then began to gobble again as vigorously as though nothing had occurred. Then I began calling again, but he would not come to me, and soon another hen came flying and lighted in a tree near him, and a moment or two after flew down to him. This caused another long wait. When through with the second hen there was another long strutting and then another hen paid him a visit. By this time the boys had become impatient, and were anxious to go home; the mosquitoes were biting them severely and their stomachs were craving nourishment; so was mine, but I knew what I was about, and in a low whisper remarked: "Boys, if you can endure it no longer we will go home, but it is hard to have come this far before daylight, six miles, and have such a fine gobbler within our grasp, then give it up and go home without him."
"Oh, well," both said in a whisper, "if you think you will get him, we will stay all day."
"That is all I ask," I replied. "On these terms he goes home with us."
By this time the gobbler had finished his attention to the third hen and was gobbling furiously in the same spot. I began to call again and the gobbler responded lustily. Having given him a few well-meant calls, I put the caller in my pocket. Seeing this move, one of the boys asked me if I was going to give up. "No," I replied, "it is his turn to parley and he will come now if no other hen comes to him, so you fellows keep still as death, but keep a careful watch."
Very soon, after a series of rapid and excited gobbling, all was still. My rifle got into position, and I whispered to the boys to peer over the log, but to keep their heads still, as the gobbler was coming and would soon be in sight. The woods had been burned and the low scrub in our region was black and charred, save small spots that had escaped the fire. I soon saw the white top of the old gobbler's head stealing slowly through the dead brush a hundred yards away, but the boys could not see him until he walked upon a small mound some three feet in height, that brought his whole form above the dead bushes. His feathers were all down, lying close to his body, and his long beard hung low; a noble bird he was. The most thrilling and picturesque object to my eye is the long beard of the turkey; just as the big horns of a buck are to the deer hunter. In a low whisper I asked the boys if they saw him. "Yes, yes," both answered in a trembling whisper. Then the rifle cracked and the bird sprang into the air and fell back dead. The two boys, wild with delight, sprang to their feet and went crashing through the burned underbrush to get hold of the fallen turkey. One of the young men, quite a hunter, remarked: "That beats all the maneuvering with a gobbler I have ever seen and was well worth the long ride to witness." So presenting him with the big twenty-two pound bird, we went home.