Monster gobbler in the southeast

Last spring, my friend Logan Hinners and I set up one morning at 4:30 for toms in a spot where we had been given the slip a time or two previously.

Our strategy was to keep things simple and avoid repeating ploys that might have cost us a gobbler in years past.

Setting a lone hen decoy on a field edge to the west of a little brush pile, we hunkered down, waiting for the woods to wake up.

The first gobbler sounded off around 5:15, not too far to the southwest of us. Then another four toms announced themselves scattered throughout the nearby 6-acre woods.

Logan gave a few cuts on his box call. That's when a tom told us to hang on, because he was on his way.

Down the big bird flew, but presented no shot. For a long while he stared at our decoy, then nonchalantly walked away.

Befuddled, we sat another 20 minutes listening to toms that were still roosted.

I waited for him to commit to coming into our decoy. When he did, he presented a shot at 7 yards.

This was a big bird: 25.4 pounds, with ¾-inch spurs and a 9 ½-inch beard.

Goes to show you that sometimes you're best off just sitting still, being quiet and letting nature take its course.