The fall turkey season has passed here in Maine, with a winter to go before spring opportunities. Others remain open around the country. No matter, it's all good. I was out there this morning, scouting; just looking, listening. Fresh scratchings told the story of a flock that had moved through that hillside and creekbottom the afternoon before, after the rain showers passed. The morning was still; sunny, frosty and cold. And then I heard it up the hill: first a yawp-yawp-yawp gobbler yelp, then a gobble, and yet another, ringing out, and sending a pleasant shiver through me. It nevers gets old.