Center Feature:

In Pursuit Of A "Bearded Man"

Text and Photography by R.G. Bernier

“I touched my call softly, alluringly, only once. To call too much is fatal.
You have to vamp him. Like a man, he does not care for this ripe fruit that falls into his hand.
What he gets stirred up over is a siren, and enchantress, a wild-wood princess, shy and wonderful, 
hard to obtain, full of shadowy avoidance, and therefore greatly desired.”
–Archibald Rutledge

Like periscopes rising from beneath the water’s surface, one-by-one, four “bearded men” popped their heads up on the horizon. They were not marching in uniformed single file; rather, their skirmish line looked more like a full military invasion by the redcoats. The difference here being these were redheads who were marching to the beat of a different kind of drum; it was not war they were after but love.

After spending three fruitless hours huddled beneath an ancient oak tree, just inside the woods line it was time for me to go proactive. Nothing in my arsenal of calls had solicited a single response from a turkey. In fact, even the squirrels were ignoring me. Peering out into the field I noticed a tom in full fan, strutting in hopes of attracting the attention of the two hens feeding away from him. Quickly I needed to formulate a plan. The way I had it figured, I could either make an assault on that bird, or covertly set up in waiting for the hens to lead him to me. What ever I decide I needed to move fast.

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