The last week of spring turkey season arrives with far less excitement than the first. A month of early mornings and long days has worn you down. When the season started five weeks earlier the trees were bare, and the grass was a few inches tall and covered with frozen dew. Now, the trees are leafed out, the hay is hip-high, the warm air is filled with mosquitoes and blackflies, and we’ve gained a full hour of daylight. Even the birds, what few remain, seem less energetic. Challenges abound, but until the last seconds of the last day tick away, there’s still hope of filling that final tag.

The now lush vegetation obscures both sight and sound. It’s harder to hear those distant gobbles, which are fewer and farther between so you must listen more intently. Even the near ones sound farther away than they once did, which calls for extra caution as an approaching bird might be closer than you think. That prompts you to sit down sooner and be more patient.

Patience is always a virtue for the turkey hunter, but especially now. Those randy toms that rattled the treetops and ran in with abandon are now much more reticent and reluctant. They’re worn down and depleted of energy and testosterone. They may still come to your calling but it will be more like a casual visit to the widow next door than singles night at the local pub.

Late season calls for a keener eye, too. You can no longer look for a big black body standing out starkly against the open understory. You must peer for a patch of black, a shadow amongst the shadows or a flash of red, white and blue. It may only be red, as their former lust is replaced with curiosity.

Simply finding birds become more challenging. There are fewer of them out there as many hunters have filled their tags and gone fishing or golfing. That means fewer hunters and less competition. Those birds, however, aren’t strutting the open fields at dawn as much as they were. They’ve moved on to more mundane tasks like eating, preening and loafing, more often in places where they haven’t been molested.

The challenges are greater but accordingly, so are the rewards. Like you, these birds are battle-worn, tried and tested. The foolhardy have long ago been culled out and only the sage survivors remain. If you succeed, you can take comfort in knowing you beat the best in the finals. If you fail, take solace in knowing they will be waiting for you when next season rolls around.

Bob Humphrey is a freelance writer and Registered Maine Guide who lives in Pownal. He can be reached at: [email protected]