Beneath the roost tree, which was a few hundred yards down at a break between two fields, a pile of fresh gobbler droppings was the tipoff that mature birds favored the site. Three patriarchs, which we dubbed the Triple Toms, were often seen out strutting in the nearby openings when we glassed from the road. Hens and other subordinate birds came and went, but the longbeards were as sure as sunrise.

After four frustrating days of conventional hunting around Rolling Fork, none of us had gotten within 200 yards of those gobblers. Delta National Forest was proving to be a much more difficult spot to hunt than we had expected. It’s an unfortunate reality that public-land birds don’t grow to have 10-plus-inch beards and saber-like spurs without developing caution to a high degree.

We had found that the Triple Toms of the Delta NF would answer calls at first light and gobble their heads off. Unfortunately, no combination of putts, kee-kees and yelps would induce them to venture closer than a quarter-mile. They had what amounted to Ph.D.s in surviving spring turkey season.

It was time to try an entirely different approach — something that involved stealthy “black-ops” tactics rather than a simple call-’em-in sort of proposition. We planned it the night before with military precision, working up hand-drawn maps of the adjoining plots covered with circles, arrows and bullet paths. The idea was that, long before first light, three of us would sneak in to locations close to where the gobblers liked to perform but out of anyone else’s line of fire. Setting up in the thickets that bordered the openings, we’d silently wait the birds out.

Each of us had packed snacks, water and ways to keep ourselves occupied during what would probably be long hours of tedium. I brought a book, and Biff had a piece of wood he’d been whittling into a set of napkin rings for his wife; the other guy was just a good sitter. Our fourth, Jim, who was the most accomplished and most versatile caller, would set up close to the road and pull out his full arsenal of turkey hen sounds so that the gobblers wouldn’t change their normal patterns.

Jim dropped us off at 3:30 in the morning, a full hour before sunrise, and then went back to the motel to sleep for another hour. The rest of us spread out and began long, quiet commando sneaks. When I got to my position I hollowed out a spot behind some honeysuckle vines. The blind gave me plenty of cover and a nearly unobstructed view of the field. Then it was just a matter of staying awake and waiting to see if the gobblers would detect our presence and head off in a different direction.

As false dawn began to reveal the terrain, I could see Biff cattycorner to my location as he finished building his blind with cane and branches. In another half-hour it would be legal light, and the game would begin.

Soon the Triple Toms began cranking up from their branches. They were looking for company and telling the world that they were the bosses of all they surveyed.

Half an hour later, hens flew down just about in front of me; minutes later the gobblers appeared at the other end of the opening and began their morning routine of gobbling and strutting for each other, any watching hens — and any hunters that might be passing on the road. The hen flock began picking their way toward the gobblers; my hopes cellared.

Then Jim began calling from a point close to the road. For some reason, this moved the three boss birds out of their safe corner and started them heading towards the hen flock. Shortly this would bring them into my firing corridor. Maybe today luck would be with me, and I’d earn bragging rights after taking one of these magnificent toms.

Soon the three big ones were within 100 yards; binoculars revealed the spurs to look even better than we’d thought. One sharp-pointed pair could be 2 inches. Another bird had broken off the left spur, but his right was still a dangerous weapon of defense. The third bird’s had a definite hook. They were getting close enough that I needed to quit sightseeing and get the gun up and ready to shoot.