“Mr. Lewis, how do I talk to girls?” The question took me by surprise and snapped me out of the typical “is it 3:15 yet” daze you can find on any middle school teacher’s face on a Friday afternoon. After a stuttering start, I did the best I could. First, I admitted that I married the girl I started dating when I was 15 years old, so my experience on the topic had its limitations.

“Well, for starters, now’s not a good time,” I said.

He countered with, “Really? Why not?”

“Body language for one,” I informed him. The girl he had been smitten with for weeks stood on the other side of the track, weight on one leg and arms crossed with the kind of facial expression one makes when they find just how tart that Sour Warhead candy really is. “She’s mad at someone at the moment, so that wouldn’t work out for you, buddy,” I offered.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he chuckled, and then continued, “So when I do talk to her, what do I say?” At just that moment I finally knew exactly what to say.

Every teacher worth their salt knows that the only way to reach kids is to know and understand each and every student on an individual level. I knew this kid quite well; I was just like him when I was 12. “You know how you talk to a gobbler?” I asked.

“Well, yeah,” was his confused response.

“It’s just like that, partner. It’s different every time, and with every gobbler,” I advised. He was still bewildered but being obsessed with anything outdoors he hung on my every word. “Sometimes you have to call a lot, convince them that they want to come to you. Sometimes, you have to call very little because if you call a lot they think you’re coming to him. Sometimes, you have to be loud and aggressive, sometimes soft and sweet. Sometimes it’s more about what you do than what you say, like being in the right spot at the right time.”

The love light was growing brighter now. “Oh, like holding doors and stuff?” he ventured excitedly.

“Exactly,” I said, and then added, “or saving her hotdog from rolling off her plate and down a hill, because that’s how I started talking to my first real girlfriend, who now happens to be my wife.” We both smiled, then shared our plans of attack for opening day of turkey season.

I learned to love hunting turkeys at a young age. Trouncing along behind my dad in clothes four times too big, I stood wide-eyed as thunderous gobbles echoed through the hollers and over mountains I grew up in. Their outbursts awakened not only the woods around me, but a primal drive deep inside that I wasn’t even aware I had. I would grow to appreciate that turkeys are the perfect animal to pursue after long months of winter boredom. They have always been fascinating to me partly because they seem to be completely unpredictable. One day they’re almost so easy to call in that a hunter feels guilty about his success, and the next they’re so wary the same hunter scratches his head and wonders if that bird was really that slick (or really that lucky). No matter if the former or latter is the case, there is an art to talking to them, an art that isn’t all that different than the other art my student was inquiring about on that Friday afternoon.

Just as I explained to my young friend, I have learned that every gobbler is different—even the same gobbler is different at various times throughout the day. These facts are probably true throughout the country but are especially relevant in the heavily hunted mountains I find myself in most. I’m reminded of a hunt this year that illustrated this pattern. After hearing zero birds despite the abundant scratching and previous run-ins, my hunting partner Ethan Henson and I were stumped. It was a bluebird day, warm for April, and the symphony of small birds echoing through the hardwoods left us puzzled. It just simply didn’t add up. We joked about what we likely would have done in the past. We are aggressive bowhunters who aren’t afraid of long treks, so our typical strategy would have been to switch spots and go find a bird in a better mood. That day, however, we reminisced on all the action we had no doubt cost ourselves due to impatience. We’ve learned a good deal over the span of time that we’ve spent chasing turkeys together, every spring since our boyhood days. Our chosen tactic for this day was to “smoke a cigarette.” Neither of us smoke, but if we did it would be a fine time to light up as the tactic is to find a comfortable spot and simply chill out until they change their mood. On this particular hunt we were game planning our upcoming rut adventure in Iowa. For an hour, the OnX apps on our phones absorbed our attention until a bird gobbled 300 yards away. It took some maneuvering, but once he heard our calls the bird marched straight to us. That turkey would have been fine table fare that evening—had it not been for the neighbor deciding to ride around on his side-by-side at the worst possible time.

No matter what mood a turkey is in, it’s best to get an idea of what you’re dealing with before you pull out all the stops. I begin the process by locating the bird if possible. At daylight this is fairly simple as they will announce their presence on their own quite often. If I am trying to locate a bird after fly down, a crow call, owl hoot, or woodpecker call is a good choice. Initially, I prefer that a prospective tom answers a locator call rather than a turkey call. As a bowhunter, I need more time to set up than your conventional turkey hunter, and locating a bird with a call has more than once resulted in an over-anxious lover running over a hill only to find himself in the lap of a fumbling bowhunter. Every time that has happened, both the bird and hunter have ended up embarrassed—and going home alone.

Hunting turkeys in the mountains my entire life has taught me that a bird is typically much closer than he sounds. Mountains manipulate sounds in much the same manner as they do wind currents and thermal conditions. If a locator doesn’t work (or I have located a bird and am already set up) I will always start with soft calling. Soft in both tone and demeanor. This is for two reasons; first, he may be a lot closer than you realize, and second, like my young friend, he may be a little shy. After I start the conversation, I let him dictate where it goes from there. My favorite birds are the ones that gobble multiple times after the first call. This commonly means he is an anxious bachelor—a bowhunter’s dream. If the bird is responsive and moving (indicating he is alone) I try my best to call very little after this point in the conversation. He knows right where you are, that’s a guarantee. A turkey’s hearing ability always surprises me. You really don’t have to put holes in that slate call with the striker to get a response, even from a good distance away. Even so, mountains and other barriers can make a call difficult to hear and, if I’m not getting a response, I will continue to raise the volume of my call to counteract those obstacles. During this process I am constantly scratching in the leaves at my feet and moving the call up, down, and around, by walking and turning my body. If you’ve ever watched a flock of turkeys for very long you’ll notice they are always scratching, picking through things, and moving. Walking in small circles while calling can imitate all of that. An incoming Romeo is looking for a real hen. If a bowhunter goes the extra mile to make the situation as realistic as possible, Romeo will respond accordingly. Of course, said Romeo does have some of the best eyes in the woods, so all of that is happening when he is far enough away, or his vision is blocked. Scratching in the leaves is perhaps the most underutilized tool in a turkey hunter’s toolbox. Like many things in life, it is so simple that it’s often overlooked.

Sometimes, that dream hunt with an aggressive bird comes to fruition. This past season I had scouted out a large group of turkeys conveniently hanging around a small parcel of land that I have permission to hunt. Knowing there were several potential suitors frequenting the area, I didn’t make any sounds as I slipped into a location that would likely be a good spot to call in a turkey. I identified this spot through pre-season scouting, which seems to be a habit of successful turkey hunters with bows and guns alike. At a centrally located pinch-point, directly between the two areas that I had been seeing them the most, this spot certainly fit the bill. A fence corner on a bench forces any and all wildlife traffic to a certain point, as evidenced by the muddy trail worn slick by the footprints of nearly every game animal in the area. Again, some of the best turkey hunters you know are that way because they know where the birds want to be. After setting up my blind, decoys, and camera gear, I began my first calling sequence very softly. As I suspected, it was greeted with an answer—or rather answers. Two birds were inside 150 yards already and, due to the way the hills paralleled each other, they could still hear my calls despite the low volume level. I wasn’t surprised to hear them moving as mid-day birds are alone quite often in my experience, but I was shocked to see a truck slowing down to allow them to cross the road below me. Roads and fences are often deal breakers, but not to birds that are this love-struck. Within seconds I had the camera focused on those beautiful red, white, and blue heads, and within minutes I had deployed 30 yards from my string tracker. A five-to-seven-yard shot is my preference, and the fired-up tom had obliged.

There is, however, one mistake that many beginning and veteran turkey hunters make quite often, and that is overcalling. Weeks of torturing wives and children while practicing with the year’s new turkey call has led to a confidence that ensnares a hunter into falling in love with his own calling. A local turkey hunting legend once explained the phenomenon like this, “It’s like talking on the phone in the days before caller ID. At first you have no idea who you’re talking to, but the more they talk, the quicker you figure it out.” Overcalling will hang a tom up as quickly as a woven wire fence. Remember, in nature the hens go to him for the most part. Most of the time, if a bird is committed, you are just slowing down the process by continuing to call. However, I too am often guilty of this. Ethan will sometimes forcibly take away my calls when a bird is heading to us.

As you can see, there are quite a few parallels from the games middle schoolers play and the games we turkey bowhunters play every spring. As I told that young man, every gobbler is different, and you just have to play the game to see how it turns out. Another similarity is that it doesn’t always work out. Actually, it doesn’t work out quite often. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. My young friend, however, probably doesn’t feel the same. But in time he will learn, just like the rest of us, that love is a fickle thing.

Dalton Lewis and his wife, Callie, live in the Appalachian Mountains of northwest North Carolina where they were both born and raised. Dalton is a middle school teacher and enjoys spending every free minute he can with his daughter, Clementine.

Equipment Notes: Dalton used an Omega Royal Huntsman 46# @28”, Day Six arrows, and Day Six Evo XL broadheads.