I’m sure the other turkey hunter didn’t see me. I had max concealment with full facemask and gloves, season- and terrain-matching camouflage covering every extremity, and I was tucked into the trunk of a massive white oak that obscured my outline. I didn’t spot the man until he walked into the clearing and stopped short when he saw my hen decoy in the open.
The hunter froze in the pre-dawn light then crouched, as though his abrupt presence might be forgiven by the hen. Next, he shouldered his shotgun at