Never in the 20+ seasons I have been to our Camp, have I seen such optimal weather for a Turkey Opener. When Mooselette and I put our rumps down at the Honey Hole, it was 62F, no wind, and a dappled sky.

I set up the DAC to record stuff the morning. We had all the usual players, gobs, hens, owls and such, but nothing ever showed. I had put two gobblers to bed the previous night. One was within 200 yards of us. At sunrise, we even had a tree full of hens hens go off as they flew down– no response from the 4 gobblers that were to our south and west.

Gobs went nuts on the roost. I’ve not heard that many shots on The Opener in a decade. Any moment, I figured we’d start getting something interested in us.

It’s like the whippoorwill says. “Wippor will! Wippor will! But she won’t! But she won’t! Not with you! Not with you!”

I hate those damn birds. Does anyone know a recipe for fried Whipporwill?

Mooselette responded by bringing back a family tradition instituted by father: sleeping in the turkey blind. She had a nap that lasted a good hour and a half. I couldn’t blame her. Daddy Moose’s naps were fine. It was just that he would snore so loudly that the hens would come by the blind and poke their heads over the top to see what was going on.

Sunday, we got royally screwed by the National Weather Service. Thunderstorms had been predicted from 0300 to 0800 with pouring rain thereafter. We all slept in expecting a washout. The rain missed us a good 50 miles to the south. However, I did awake just before sunrise, and I the action on our ridge was near nonexistant.