Well, once again TScott and I found ourselves high on a ridge a daybreak deep in the National Forest yesterday morning. We decided to hunt/scout new areas yesterday, so there was an aire of excitement. Scott managed to get not one but four owls fired up at about 5:45 a.m. They flew right in on top of us and were making all kinds of racket. No gobbles. Then the crows flew in, still no gobbles. We started roaming about 6:30 and ended up back at the truck by 8:15 a.m. Beautiful area full of sign from last fall, but not a single gobble. Relocated to another spot yet unexplored. This one was a four-wheeler trail that ran across the very top of a mountain. About 1.5 miles from the truck, Scott says the top of the next rise is as far as were headed. We'd been hitting the crow call and cutting about every 150-200 yards along the ridge top and nothing would answer. Saw plenty of deer! So, we reach the top of the rise. I hit the crow, nothing. Scott says something is below us over the ridge walking. He cranks out a yelp or two....GOOOOOBBBLLE. Holy crap batman, we are in the game AGAIN. We immediately ease back across the road and find some cover. We seperate about 15 yards or so to cover more of the road. The ridge top is narrow, so if the bird comes, when we see him he'll be well within range. We start our flock talk and scratching in the leaves and GOOOBBBBLE. He's coming up the ridge. Then, of all things, a deer gets a wiff and SNORT..run and GOOBBLEEE. Wow, he really must be lonley. Another deer comes running up behind us and bares off to the left. Alittle more sweet talk and GOOBBLLLEE. He's on top of us. I hear walking/running in the leaves and it sounds like at any moment he's going to run over Scott. Due to terrain, the bird walks right out on top of Scott at less than 5 yards, stares hard at Scott, it was now or never but Scott didn't have the angle. The bird didn't like what he saw and took off running back down the ridge but never putted. Nerve racking encounter at about 9:35 a.m. So, we start the calming chit chat and he eventually gobbled down the ridge again. Guess he wasn't but so spooked. Then the fun really began. We set up again a tad farther down the road to give the impression that the ladies were moving on. This ol boy simply gobbled at everything we threw at him but wouldn't move an inch. So, I decided to take the game to him. Initially, I thought I would walk every so slowly scratching the leaves as I went to imitate a feeding bird moving toward him. Five trees and 100 yards later, I had closed the distance till I dare not move any closer. Scott's sweet talk still had the bird gobbling. I get set as quietly as I can and let the boy know I'm there. He hammers back. Seems to be about 60-70 yards away down over the ridge in the bottom. I set the call down and get set. Then, wouldn't you know it, a hen yelps. No wonder he didn't want to come up the hill. I pick the call back up and yelp back at her. That made her MAD! She starts LOUDLY yelping and cutting at me. Well, I tell her that I'm just as good as her and I want her man. She is clearly working towards me and I get ready for the show. Up over the ridge edge she pops out at about 18 yards looking hard for a fight. She hops up on an old log and starts cutting loudly. She's less than 10 yards from me looking hard for the lady who dare to steal her man. This hen was VOCAL. She never stopped cutting and yelping. Best example of just how vocal turkeys can really be. She hops off the log after about 5 minutes of scolding and starts walking up the hill right by me. She stops about 10 FEET away from me and starts cutting again. LEAFY CUT camo does its job well! She hears Scott talking and figures she'll go to the top of the hill and teach that girl a lesson. And there he is, 50 yards below me on the ridge top with some thick underbrush between him and me. He's really putting on a show for his girlfriend(s). He was spitting and drumming, strutting and making that head change from brillant white to royal blue. What a majestic bird! So, as his girlfriend works up the hill for an ol' fashioned butt whooping, the ol' boy kept up his show but wouldn't move. I could tell that the hen must have reached the top of the ridge and was really giving it to Scott. The ol' boy figured the girl was gone, folded up his wings and marched right back over the ridge to the bottom. As soon as he was out of sight, I hit him with a yelp. GOOBBLE. I hit him with some cutts. GOBBLEE...GOBBBLEE. This gets a gobbler on another ridge about 500+ yards away fired up. The ol' Boy gobbles again at the other gobbler. I put down the call and wait. Nothing. Scott ends up having to throw a rock at the hen to get her to leave and even then, she walked back down the ridge towards the other gobbling bird, cutting and yelping the entire way. My watch said 11:30 a.m. and we had just been in an encounter for two hours! We were a long ways from the truck and an even longer ways from home. We called it a morning and what a morning it was. You could say we played the game and lost. I say we played the game hard and had the time of our life! What a season thus far!
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I had a hand cramp after all that cutting 
Darn hen would not leave! I tried to shooo her at about 6 yards and she just kept cutting. So I picked up a small rock and it landed at her feet, she jumped, and kept cutting. Then marched right past me straight back to Dale. Wish we had put a decoy out to watch her woop it.
I'll know that turkey when I see him again by the freckle on his forehead