This one is for the books. I woke up at 5 am to get ready to go. I decided not to go. I woke back up at 5:55 and decided to pee. I got up and walked outside to pee and listen. I heard one gobble a LONG way off and couldn’t really determine where from. I had a general direction but that was it. I continued listening and picked him up again a few minutes later. I could tell he was either on me or close enough to at least fool with. I threw my clothes on and started walking, stopping to listen every few hundred yards. I finally got to within 400 or so yards and knew where he was. The problem was I couldn’t get any closer. He was on the edge of a 40 acre 2 year old longleaf tract and the terrain wouldn’t allow me to move as long as he was in a tree. After he pitched out I made a move and decided to close the distance as much as possible. He never gobbled again on the ground. So now I don’t know where he’s at, but I know where he might be headed, so I try to get close, slowly peaking over ridge tops with my binos as I go. I finally get to the field opening and sit down. He’s not there. I cluck a few times softly and do one series of yelps and I shut up. It took the idiot 55 minutes to come investigate but he finally did, and I had to turn and shoot him behind me at about 18 yards. It was exactly .97 of a mile from the porch. It’s bittersweet killing a bird you know is around, but don’t talk very often. I haven’t heard him gobble all season, but have known he’s there, because I’ve been seeing him while working on the place. He’s a stud daddy too. Thank the Lord for another beautiful morning and successful hunt.