Perched 20 feet off the ground on a gnarled red oak branch sits a healthy, mature Missouri gobbler. It’s 20 minutes before good light and he’s already awake. He’s stood up and paced the limb once or twice, and even contorted himself for a morning stretch. His anticipation of the spring dawn is probably just as intense as that of the 10 hunters within a half-mile of the lofty roost.

As the big bird sits impatiently, the urges of lust and other things primal cause him to stretch his neck to let loose with a gobble so resounding that he nearly unseats himself. The ungainly noise emanating from the tree bounces around the hills and hollows, and without a lag, 10 hunters’ heads whip in its direction, their eyes widening — or narrowing, depending on just how many times they’ve heard that sound before.

Depending on that bird’s mood today, he might repeat that action once more, 50 times, or not at all. But the hunters have heard what they need to hear, and begin wading through the timber and morning darkness, fixed on finding him. All the while he remains perched until day dawns bright enough for him to hit the ground.

The less experienced of the pursuers tromp wildly through the woods, crunching last fall’s leaves beneath their boots and generally making a ruckus. The veterans, by contrast, ease down a logging road or work a ridgetop, making a few steps and then stopping to listen. Either way, the gobbler is alert to the advancing threat, and though he may continue his salute, he’ll do so hesitantly. The gobbler has heard this before. More than once he’s heard the commotion coming from that same direction, not knowing why it always comes from there, but nonetheless aware. The hunters, each of whom parked along the road bordering the public land, are halfway to him.

As the day grows light, some hunters abandon the search. They’ve heard another bird, or realized that others are already there — maybe even stumbling across each other on the way. The bird, ready to pitch down, has heard a chorus of owl hoots and hen calls. He hits the ground, gobbles a few times, and then starts his travels — in the opposite direction. After heading a quarter-mile down the ridge toward the huge public area’s interior, he hears the soft, sweet sounds of love beckoning him onward. He stops, only to strut momentarily and gobble. Very near the hen of his dreams, he finds that the open timber reveals nothing.

Pausing to investigate his surroundings, staring around in an effort to locate his prospective lady love, he hears a subtle click coming from a strange form that looks more or less like any other large oak trunk. He doesn’t know that it’s the flick of a shotgun safety — nor does he hear the thunderous shot whose echoes reverberate back toward the many disappointed faces of the other expectant gobbler chasers.

PUBLIC LAND

This story of a typical turkey hunt portrays the mortal game of hide-and-seek game that’s played annually in venues ranging in size from massive national forests to the smallest of public tracts — wherever turkeys call home and turkey hunters give pursuit.

Long gone are the days of light pressure on public birds and weak competition among those who hunt them. It’s possible to get far enough off the beaten path to be alone, but the chances become slimmer with each passing season. It’s become the hunter’s duty to work harder and be smarter when the going gets tough.

Public lands across the state of Missouri harbor plenty of birds; in fact, many credit our state with the best hunting in the nation. But that’s not going to guarantee a gobbler that’s yours for the picking. Legwork, scouting and smart hunting are the tickets to success.

You might as well face facts: If you hunt public land, you’re going to have to outthink not only the turkeys but other hunters as well. This on its own is not such a depressing idea. Accomplished hunters love a challenge; otherwise, you wouldn’t be dueling with the wise old birds, anyhow. In today’s woods, you’re going to contend with every possible situation — everything from meeting up with other folks in the woods all the way to having your turkeys hunted at the same time by people that might be less experienced than or twice as savvy as you.