Photo by D. Toby Thompson

By Mike Handley

Sure as I'm sitting here, clacking away at my keyboard about how the last couple of Alabama summers were wet, mild and "buggy" - ideal conditions for raising wild turkeys - some farmer will read these words and say "Hogwash!" If you've ever kicked back on the front porch and watched a Biblical rain in the distance, one that somehow misses your own little parched patch of paradise, you know what I mean.

Assessing what kind of spring turkey season Heart of Dixie sportsmen will have in 2004 is a lot like predicting the weather. It could be great in Prattville and lousy in Montgomery - separated only by the lazy Alabama River. Nevertheless, at the risk of elevating myself to the cursed status of weatherman, I must say that I've never seen such glowing signs of what should be a banner spring for gobbler hunters.

That lofty claim is based on both the weather we've had and actual sightings. This time last year, not much could be said about the phenomenal surge in the little fuzz balls we call turkey poults during the summer of 2002. After all, they were not going to be gobbling for another couple of springs.

They were but gangly jakes last spring, when thumb-sized beards and gear-toothed tail feathers were common sights across the state. Now, however, all those birds are full-blown 2-year-olds - ready, willing and able to answer and come to our calls.

Another good sign was all the gobbling birds last year - the most heard in the last five seasons. There should be a decent number of 3- and 4-year-old wily warriors as well.

Many hunters wondered last season what would result from the 10 additional days the state provided for hunting turkeys in March. As it turned out, Alabama's wildlife managers chose the perfect time - weather-wise - to expand the season.

Had they done so during an off year, production-wise we'd have cursed them for the "wholesale slaughter" of our most beloved bird, which we would have reasoned was the cause of a lack of toms. But thanks to optimum weather conditions, that was not a problem.

"Whenever you get hot, dry weather in the summer, it'll hit the quail and turkey populations really hard, especially the turkeys," says Keith Guyse, assistant chief of the Alabama Division of Wildlife and Freshwater Fisheries, Wildlife Section. "Drought conditions lead to a decline in bugs, which the poults need to eat in order to survive. A drought also leads to poor seed production and less or stunted cover."

Cover is important in the first couple of weeks of a poult's life, because the hatchlings cannot fly. Until they can, they're walking bull's-eyes for a host of predators.

The Cotton State suffered five straight summers with less-than-average rainfall in the late 1990s, which took a toll on our young turkeys. Though our declining numbers weren't nearly as bad as they were in other Southeastern states, it was certainly noticeable to hunters.

The summer of 2000 was perhaps the worst, at least for the southern half of Alabama. A severe drought decimated corn, cotton and peanut crops, and cattlemen even faced a shortage of hay. But the summers of 2001, 2002 and 2003 were almost perfect turkey-wise, and we're sure to reap the benefits in 2004.

So now that we all have something to look forward to, let's take a look at what hunting on public land for turkeys is like.

I came close to silencing that confounding bird on the morning I found him. After an uneventful first couple of hours, I was walking back to my truck when I heard one of those "maybe" gobbles close to where I'd been sitting. When I backtracked to that very tree, there was indeed a gobbler within 100 yards. I called once lightly and set up facing him.

Rather than take the easy, most obvious route to me, however, that squirrelly bird chose to cut through some of the roughest cover out there. It was so thick with saplings and sawbriers that even Br'er Rabbit would avoid it. I was stunned and unable to respond when the longbeard suddenly emerged from the jungle on my left.

He began circling me warily. The fact I had been calling from that spot for more than an hour undoubtedly made him leery.

When the rascal was at 30 yards and in front of me, I somehow managed to levitate my beat-up Remington as he passed behind a young pine. But the tom spotted just enough movement to alert him before I could pull the trigger.

I worked that bird three more times after that, but he absolutely would not come back for a dose of buckshot.

After hearing him on the roost for the fifth straight morning, I finally overcame the impulse to act and instead thought about the situation. Based on what he'd done the very first time we met, I decided to "fly down," yelp urgently and then shut up for as long it took. After cutting a few times for good measure, I actually tossed my slate about five feet in front of me - wincing as it landed face down in the dew.

Forty-five minutes later, when I picked it back up, that wise old bird was slung over my shoulder.

Public land toms usually hear lots of turkey talk, and they quickly learn - if they live long enough - that not everything that glitters is gold. I often wish I were as quick a student.

Any turkey taken off public ground is a trophy. To bag one with 1 1/2-inch hooks and a paintbrush of a beard is like winning the Super Bowl. So just remember: Sometimes it's better to do more thinking and less calling!