By quarter-to-six the decoys looked perfect in the field out front of the blind, a coyote had drifted across the field like a sneaky shadow, and the cadence from the inmates at Willard was on the breeze. From 7 miles away its population of convicted drug-addicts were out for their red jumpsuit left-right-left rain or shine morning constitutional.
We called to tight-beaked turkeys in the woods.
The eerie echo of felons in cyclone fence was the only response.
Right set-up. Wrong birds.