Think I'll try my hand at a photo essay....
Photograph 1: Looking West toward the island of scrub trees where I love to hunt for gobblers. Notice the two sycamores on the North end or right side of photograph. The West fork of our White River flows at the base of the hill in the background.
Photograph 2: The North end of the cover where "the magic" has happened more than once. I sit in front of the double-trunked sycamore shown here.
Photograph 3: Leisurely waiting on a tom to sound off to an occasional call. I'm combating mid-thirty degree temperatures, donned in Carhartt bibs and plaid insulated flannel shirt, while nursing some hot joe.
Photograph 4: Wondering if another notch will be scratched upon Ol' Betsy's walnut this season...........
Photograph 5: ................Looks like it! "My" gobbler rests between two hen dummies, 30 feet from my double-trunked sycamore, where he stood moments prior to this photograph being taken. He was a sight now!! Full strut with a glowing red, white and blue head, slowly revolving between his two prospects. His hopes seemed high that one or both would prove receptive to his gaudy advances.
Photograph 6: Judging by his hardware, this was not his first nor second season of romancing the lesser sex of his kind.
Photograph 7: And, the "hero pic" of a once-again satisfied hunter (who is luckier than he deserves to be).
At least he knows how fortunate he is to witness one of Spring's greatest spectacles, the timeless dance of the toms of Southern Indiana.
Best of luck to all and stay safe.
Best regards, Skychief.