Memories The 26 hour drive from my home in Ontario Canada to Eldorado Texas had already proved to be worth the long hours behind the wheel as my hunting partner J.C Vincent and myself had already put a tag on a nice Rio Grande gobbler each and we where now out looking to find another tom willing to let J.C put his second tag on him. This was J.C's first road trip for wild turkey and I was glad to be there when he harvested his first bird ever, there's nothing quite like the feeling of your first bird. We were hunting a couple of ranches that at first sight looked to be way too green to be located in Texas but due to the very wet and mild winter Texas had according to the locals, they were a month ahead of scheduled green up. Nice to look at not… so nice to hunt in , as in my opinion this spread the birds out more than usual as there was food for the turkeys everywhere which meant no need for them to localize in the usual places you would think you would find turkeys in Texas, stock ponds etc. In my experience of turkey hunting in Texas, there were no birds willing to commit suicide as we so often see on the turkey videos we all love to watch. We had started out the day in a small thicket of mesquite trees where the turkeys loved to roost and at the very break of day we heard our first gobble, Rio's I have found seem to gobble and come off the roost earlier than do easterns. Then there was another gobble then another we looked at each other and grinned only to find out that they were across a small road and on a ranch we did not have permission to hunt! That's what happens when your new to an area and really don't know the lay of the land, so plan two was in effect the only problem there was we didn't have a plan two! We went back to the truck and got out our topo map and started looking for likely areas that the birds would use for strut zones, as the ranch was covered with roads going thru it and with many openings, there were a lot of areas to where the birds might be heading not making it an easy decision and that's why they call it hunting and not shooting. We started driving the truck to where the branch roads connected to the main ranch road, park the truck and started cuttin' and running trying to raise a gobble from a lovesick tom. The first two stops proved to be fruitless although the scenery was amazing, as coming from Canada one does not see cactus or mesquite flats but we were here for Rio's and on this day we weren't seeing them either, as the legs started getting heavier from walking what seemed like miles down these narrow ranch roads cuttin' on a box call every 100 yards or so an old saying came to mind "a bad day hunting is better than a good day at work!." All of a sudden a gobble broke the routine of call and walk and call again. The tom had sounded off over a ridge approximately 300 yards in front of us so I cutt again at him, this time he cut me off even before I was finished on the box call…this was no courtesy gobble he meant business, we scrambled to find adequate cover for the both of us to set up and try to call the gobbling tom into gun range. The bird was gobbling but not walking to us as of yet so I started to tone down the calling as I had switched from the box to a glass call, now instead of the loud obnoxious call from the box the tom was hearing subtle yelps and cutts that enticed him ever closer, at this point he was still out 100 yards or so but he was definitely coming our way every minute expecting to see this hen that he could hear but not see. Now was the time to play hard to get as I backed right off on calling so that all the bird could hear was the faint sound of an occasional purr or light cluck, this really fired up the ol' boy as he started gobbling with no coaxing from me, he just couldn't wait any longer he had to find this "hen" that was right over the crest of the hill, we waited in anticipation, this scene is very different from one where you can see the bird working all the way into you…. where would he show up? Were we in the right position? Only time would tell, our questions were answered in a matter of minuets, as I spotted his crimson head peaking over the crest. We had no decoys put out as this had happened so quickly, not seeing anything the tom just started walking down the hill on the road still searching for his hen. To keep him coming I continue to call softly on the glass call he was now 50 yards out and I turned to J.C and told him to "take him" when he had the opportunity, it came a few minuets later when I heard the BANG , with that it was all over for that lone star tom, he had never found that hen he was looking for but J.C had found another Rio willing to let him put his tag on. The bird weighed in at 21lbs had a nice 8 1/2" beard and 1" spurs a fine Rio Grande. These hunts will always be etched in my minds eye and that truly is what hunting is all about MEMORIES.