I got up early one spring morning and located a group of gobblers roosted behind the houses of one of these neighborhoods. I was able to get one to seperate from the group and he came meandering my way, which was just about as legal distance from the houses that I could make it.
From where I was calling, I was located on the top of a hill that was also a deep bowl. The tom did not take a direct route towards me, but instead circled around me and came up a steep embankment. As soon as he crested the hill he froze. Not sure if he was looking at me or the decoys I had setup, I decided not to find out and took the shot. The bird dropped and tumbled all the way down the steep embankment to the bottom where he lay motionless. He was a beautiful bird that I decided to mount with fan, wings, feet, and beard.
I tried going back home, towards western MA and hunted some mountain birds in the Berskshires. I got up early and hike up a mountain, only to realize I was directly under the roosted birds. I spooked a few hens at first and watched them pitch down into the valley below and then a short time later I did the same to the tom. Frustrated, I watched him pitch down into the same valley. I heard a few gobbles later but never relocated them. I did however notice a black bear at the top of the mountain, who was spying on me while I was attempting to call. Great time of year to be in the woods.
