We stalked along the creek bed, set up decoys, and called. About every 45 minutes, the tom would gobble again from a new location, and we’d pull our decoys and move. We chased him all over the mountain. Finally, after climbing a very long rise, Henry and I stopped to catch our breath. A moment later, the gobbling ghost appeared. He was leading six or eight hens. He saw me immediately and they all took off at a dead run. By the time I’d gotten Henry’s attention, the birds had crossed a fence bearing a prominent “No Trespassing” sign. We were tired and disappointed, but smiled at the fact that we had actually seen turkeys on our first try. Those would be the only turkeys we’d see all season.