Typical of my annual southwest Wisconsin turkey hunt is an uneasiness that sets in approximately 1-2 weeks beforehand. I’m feeling the height of it now. Of course, my pump is always primed to get back out to my yearly gobbler haunts in coulee country, but the resident birds can be downright relentless—hence the uneasiness.

Our turkey hunting posse’s roots to this particular property reach back 10 years. It was 3 or 4 years before I joined the team. Prior to my introduction, my uncle’s hadn't killed a bird—and not because of a lack of skill. I’ve been lucky enough to claim a bird for 6 consecutive trips. This will be my friend Joel’s fourth year and he still hasn’t struck gobbler gold. Regardless, we still haven't quite "figured it out."

The forecast is typical: rain, wind and a high chance of adverse turkey hunting conditions that not even Mother Nature can predict. I’m geared up to the hilt, but all the gear in the world can’t compete with the power of the turkey hunting Gods. All I can do is hope that they’ll bless me for another consecutive year. And so I beg preemptively for mercy!