A blast of cold air and two snowfalls shut down all gobbling here in the mountains of Southwest Virginia, that is, all gobbling except for one lone tom. In the midst of a driving wind and precipitation, that old boy was gobbling.
That is the type of bird that I would like to hunt on opening day - one gobbling in the wind and snow. That kind of tom will invariably come charging in.
Still, he was the only one to sound off for the entire week until the warm front came through this morning. Predictably, a gobbler on the eastern side of our property greeted the dawn and was so boisterous that both my son-in-law David and I both heard him. Opening day is just two weeks distant.
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