Calling all toms: Court warily.

Byline: Mark Blazis

COLUMN: OUTDOORS

He sounds like a seductive female. But don't hold that against him. He's really a straight shooter. He just learned over the years how to attract tom turkeys by calling to them with an enchanting, irresistible imitation of a hen turkey. His skills can take a lifetime to perfect. He's a unique breed of hunter: the turkey caller.

Turkey season opens April 27, and there are gobbles of them in our state. But not long ago, you'd never even see a turkey in Massachusetts, never mind hunt one. Their reintroduction is one of the great success stories of Jim Cardoza and his team of wildlife biologists from the state Division of Fish and Wildlife.

Wild turkeys were native to Massachusetts, but by 1850 they had been eliminated from the eastern part of our state. Habitat loss - primarily the conversion of forest to open, tree-less farmland - poultry diseases from domestic stock, and over-hunting were the culprits. Many attempts at reintroduction failed. Initially, restocking the wrong birds with the wrong genes was a total failure here. Success came only when suitable wild birds from nearby Pennsylvania and New York were brought in. Quabbin and western Massachusetts were repopulated first.

Now turkeys are everywhere - even downtown Worcester (Remember the bird that blocked Belmont Street traffic every afternoon a couple of years ago?). So many, in fact, that the state has both a fall and spring season. Spring is for males only. In the fall, birds of either sex can be taken. The spring hunt is by far the more exciting.

Turkeys are challenging. I know a few men who have hunted them for years without ever bagging one. A turkey's eyesight is like a raptor's - far superior to a deer's. They can be spooked by a hunter's slightest movement. Their keen color perception necessitates camouflage and a mask.

But what makes male turkeys a joy to hunt in the spring is their dramatic displaying, gobbling and tendency to strut in to a hunter's perfected imitation of a female vocalization. You have to spend time learning the nuances of calling to have a reasonable chance at bagging a big tom for your family's table (gourmet fare, prepared correctly).

Usually, the hunter first tries to find the turkey's night roost. He'll typically go to different prime areas the evening before, imitating the call of a barred owl, which turkeys fear. Upon hearing the owl call, roosting turkeys reflexively give their alarm vocalization, unwittingly revealing their location. The hunter notes that spot and returns while it's still dark the next morning, setting up within earshot of the roosting tree - preferably uphill of the bird rather than below it, unless the land is flat.

The object of the sport is to call it in, never to shoot it out of its roost tree. What makes turkey hunting so special is luring a big tom into your call, persuading him that you are a clucking hot female. Only an unethical meat hunter, a desperate wannabe, fraud or poacher would ever shoot his bird out of a roost tree today. You might as well shoot a chicken in a coop.

Real turkey hunters always set up a good distance from the tree, but within hearing range of the turkey, to practice their craft. Very few will become virtuosos at it.

Note that turkey hunters generally don't imitate a male's gobbling. Males gobble to attract females, not other males. They would prefer never to see competition during the breeding season in their territory.

The big-egoed males narcissistically expect females to come running hotly into their gobble; they expect females to be seduced by their gorgeous fanned tails and struts. When a tom hears a clucking female that refuses to come in (the hunter), he is justifiably reluctant to go looking for this strangely coy female. In his mind, this shouldn't happen. But sometimes his hormones prevail over reason. To properly deceive this wily bird is a practiced art that real turkey hunters live for. To pull the trigger is exciting, but secondary.