Dad took his buddy Rob out this morning, and they did rather well. This is the story as it was related to me: They tried to explore a new spot, but found it so thick they couldn't get into it past 100 yards. They relocated, and were only about 100 yards from the truck when they heard gobbles. They had a hen, and Dad was finally able to call the hen in. Rob shot one, and even though he did a fighting purr, Dad couldn't see the other. They were walking down to Rob's bird and the other gobbler was standing in an opening, 54 yards away, too far for a shot. They moved on, struck another bird, called it and 3 jakes in. It has two beards. I'm hoping to get my second bird soon, then try for that mythical thing they call a spring chinook.
