I will admit to an addiction. The sound of a goblble rocks me to my core. The days when they are so close that you can feel it in your chest are a total adrenaline rush. I chase that with a passion that has been costly both monetarily and in personal relationships.

Here is my confession: I cannot kill a turkey this year. My last poor year was 2018 and I killed 2 that year. Since then I normally kill a limit and when I don't, it is because I called in multiple birds that others killed. This year nothing. The turkeys no longer respond like years past. Gobbling has been minimal. Timber is being cut next door to my 2 best spots. Found footprints on my lease. Dogs have run off several gobblers I was working.

Fried turkey excuses are the only thing being served at the dinner table. The only dented primer was a coyote that thought turkey dinner was on the menu.

I have gone through my normal routine that has been proven. Changed calls, tempo, called very aggressively, called one cluck and one 3 note yelp in a 3 hour period. Have rustled enough leaves to fill a landfill. Have snuck in close in the dark. Backed way off. Moved and stayed still. Have hunted hard.

I am posting this public confession and admitting that all my prior success was simply luck. My arrogance is gone and this act of public contrition is affirmation of that. Let the Lord lift this turkey drought and let me once again fuel my addiction.