Previous Osceola hunts had ended the way so many of my other turkey hunts elsewhere had ended—with hens that led gobblers away from my calls, with blown stalks on unresponsive toms, or with incoming strutters that simply vanished into the screen of brush.
And, just like spring conditions anywhere, Florida’s weather can turn. The day after I killed my first Osceola on a fine March afternoon, I joined my hunting partner, Linda Powell from Mossberg Firearms, in a ground blind that barely kept out sluicing sheets of rain. Despite the deluge, a soggy gobbler fed out of a line of trees and Linda killed him. The next day we went to Disney World.