Back in April of 1984, I was a bona fide turkey-calling bad ass--or so I thought. Thanks to the National Wild Turkey Federation's trap-and-transplant program, we finally had enough wild turkeys to hunt in southern New England. I had practiced calling for hours and hours with a simple peg and slate in anticipation of our first season, and on my first day of scouting managed to call in four adult gobblers. It was simple. It was a piece of cake. I yelped, they gobbled and came right in--four times. There were birds in every place I stopped and they all came as if on a rope. I was a turkey-calling God!