I didn't see or hear any turkeys, or even spot any fresh sign, on the last day of West Virginia's spring gobbler season. And both my tags for that state went unused.
Still, as always, there are always things to marvel about in the spring woods. I was hunting at over 3,200 feet in the mountains of my Monroe County land, so I was able to listen to a rose-breasted grosbeak singing for several hours. I kept scanning the tree tops to see him, but no luck for the longest time.
Then, finally, the male materialized just 20 or so yards away and warbled his robin-like tune. The red patch on his breast was dazzling.
I had heard the distress sounds of a raven for most of the morning, so when walking out of the woods to go home, I decided to see what the bird's issue was. I walked right under the raven's perch. The bird was only about 10 yards from me, the closest I have ever been to a raven. The bird was struggling to remain on its perch, so something was clearly wrong. I was surprised that the avian let me come so close, again, indicating that something was wrong.
So my turkey hunting is over in Tennessee, Virginia, and West Virginia for the season. Next weekend, I am floating the James River.
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