The big bird wasn't far from the pair of hunters backed up against ponderosa pine at the crest of a ridge line in the Black Hills. But it was just out of sight behind the hill. They'd been listening to the tom turkey's love sick cries since before sunrise.
To be fair, they'd been egging him on, acting the part of a hen playing hard-to-get. The taller hunter slipped a diaphragm call in his mouth to bring the big bird over the hill.