Soon, the big birds flew down, black blobs that drifted toward us. We clucked, yelped. I ran a mouth call and slate, making like a bunch of turkeys. Jeremy Baxter, who'd scouted these Rios and had a solid sense of what they might do once they winged to the ground, worked a slate behind me. My buddy, Van Holmes, sat locked in to my right, facing the field, and a gate opening we hoped the turkeys might move through to our position.