RED WING, MINN. — To paraphrase Forrest Gump: Turkey hunting is like a box of chocolates; you never know what you're going to get.
But it's almost always good.
Some thoughts from the turkey blind last week:
• As night dissolved to dawn, I sat in my tent-like portable blind on the edge of a lush, green alfalfa field surrounded by woods and ravines. The first sound I heard was not a turkey gobbling but a turkey flying down from a tree just behind me, a flap-flap-flapping that jump-started my heart. The bird, a hen, soon appeared in the field, then disappeared.
• A half-hour later, four turkeys -- responding to my calls -- popped their heads over the ridge and approached my decoys. They strolled within 15 yards of me, looking warily at my decoys. All were jakes -- young males with just nubs for beards. I'm not opposed to putting a jake in the oven, but it was the first day of my hunt and I elected not to shoot, hoping for a big-bearded tom.
• The jakes gave me a show, strutting and fanning their tail feathers in the sun for more than a half-hour. Then a loud gobble from directly behind me shattered the silence and I readied my 12-gauge. But the tom never showed itself or sounded off again. And the jakes eventually disappeared.
• There were surprisingly few gobbles from the woods. After six hours, I called it a day. Still, I can't think of a better place to watch spring unfold.
• A friend spotted four toms and some hens in the field a half-mile north but had no luck calling them in. Still, the sighting was encouraging.