I remember the moment like it is etched in stone. My back to a large oak, decoy in front of me, I sent a few yelps into the forest. I hadnt heard a turkey all morning, but that was about to change.

Instead of hearing him, I felt him. The vibrations hit from behind, and I could feel as well as hear the gobbler strutting. Suddenly, he let out a monstrous gobble, and it was so close and deafening that my body jumped off the forest floor.

In retrospect, I probably should have turned and sent a load of #2 shot his way. But I was too stunned, and was hoping he would walk right by me, his focus on the decoy. He didnt. He evaporated back into the woods, as only turkeys can do. One moment, they are the loudest thing in the forest; the next, they are ghosts. Its why they are so fun to hunt.

Forget television reruns. If you want a real show, now is the time to watch wild turkeys. Males are strutting their stuff, gobbling, and fighting each other. Females are choosing mates and starting to nest. And the result is some of the best entertainment of the year.

Mature males, called gobblers, can stand three feet tall and weigh 25 pounds, although most average 16. Gobblers have bright blue and red heads, long hair-like feathers called beards that hang from their chest, and sharp spurs used to fight other gobblers. Young males, called jakes, are smaller, have short beards and almost no spurs. Hens are even smaller, about 10 pounds, with bluish-gray heads, lacking spurs and beards (usually).

Once a gobbler has attracted hens, he will jealously guard them from other males. The daily routine starts with a gobbler calling from his tree roost at first light. After flying down, the gobbler will strut and gobble some more, attracting hens for breeding.

After mating, females sneak off to their nesting site, and each day lay a single egg within a leaf-lined nest. Hens lay until they have produced 8-15 eggs, covering the nest each day with leaves. After she has laid her last egg, she will incubate for 28 days. Just a few hours after hatching, the downy poults are following the hen into the woods. By the fall, they are self-sufficient.

Hunting turkeys is fun, but part of attraction of turkey time is the bonus nature. Graceful swallowtail butterflies flutter up the trail, while the flute-like melody of wood thrushes, the incessant peter peer peter of a tufted titmouse, and numerous other bird calls fill the air. The beautiful white blooms of dogwood trees light up the forest edges. A hairy woodpecker taps his bill against a tree as a territorial display, and the cadence sets off two grey tree frogs, hidden only a few feet away. And it is always fun to watch other predators, like a red-shouldered hawk swooping at my decoys.

Having the opportunity to hunt wild turkeys is a privilege, but we only have turkeys to hunt because of conservation. Once extirpated throughout much of its range, turkeys were reintroduced using trap and transfer efforts by KYDFWR and other state agencies. This work paid off, as turkeys have been restored throughout North America, and their current range is now larger than it was when the first Europeans arrived. In some places, particularly urban environments, turkeys have even become pests. The restoration of wild turkeys is one of the great conservation success stories in North America, and is a testament to the continued efforts that wildlife biologists, led by state agencies and the National Wild Turkey Foundation (NWTF), have made to preserve this iconic American species.

Famously, the wild turkey was Benjamin Franklins choice for our national symbol. I cannot argue with his logic. They are regal birds that never cease to entertain. They are now more abundant than when Franklin was alive, showing the same resilience that our nation has had during multiple conflicts. And, they taste delicious. I wont trade in the bald eagle just yet, but the wild turkey is definitely a close second, and deserves our respect and attentionespecially during this time of year.

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Turkey Time | Sports - Murray Ledger and Times