4:14 a.m. I walked through the pitch black, up the hill to my blind. I was determined to stay there until I got my tom.

5:45 a.m. I heard toms gobbling and hens clucking. Three gobblers flew into visual range. Instead of following the trail I had seen them taking previously, they went the opposite direction, taking them about 150 yards from my blind. I was able to call one of them back and had him coming right to my decoys but at 60 yards, he booked.

The day wore on slowly with the temperature rising. Luckily I had worn my cover-up camos, expecting a hot day. By 12 my water was getting low. I was cooking and was close to giving up when I heard a gobble to my left. Getting into position for a good shot, I looked to my right and a BIG one was only 40 yards away. By the time I got in position,,, he was 25 yards out and seconds later he was down. He wasn't flopping, so I ran to him to make sure a coyote didn't get him as had happened to me last year. The minute I grabbed his legs he went into a flop, kicking the fool out of me. Flopping wildly, he started rolling down the hill, I jumped on him, he knocked me off and I started rolling. After getting to my feet, I laid across him again and held him down until the flopping stopped. What a sight that had to have been!

I am so sore and bruised from the escapade you wouldn't believe it! What a riot. Memory of last year flooded my brain and I didn't want the flopping to bring in coyotes. I got him, that's all that counts.