Robins are the traditional harbingers of spring for many, perhaps because they show up en masse, hoppin’ and boppin’ across back lawns. Astute observers listen for the first conk-a-ree of the red-winged blackbirds that often precede the robin red breast by a week or more. Or maybe it’s the nasal peent and whistling wings of the woodcock that signals spring. But long before any of them have winged their way back north, the native birds are growing restless.

It could come as early as late February or early March. One morning you wake, reluctant to venture into the chilly darkness. Eventually you must, but on this day instead of racing to the car to head to work, you pause, watching your warm breath rise in tendrils. Then you hear it: the raspy, primordial rattle of a distant gobbler. Spring turkey season is still weeks away but the process begins much sooner.

Winter aggregations, segregated by sex, slowly disperse, then reform into smaller flocks. Biological clocks measure increasing minutes of daylight, prompting changes in behavior. Hens become increasingly tolerant of male companionship, then start seeking it. Meanwhile the males — toms and jakes — are increasingly less tolerant of each other as winter companions become competitors.

Gobbling is often the first sign that spring has started in the world of the wild turkey. Then one day a signal implanted in the tom’s DNA prompts it to puff up into a strutting posture. The bird sashays this way and that, primping and posing. That and the raucous yelping of hens fuels his ardor and he gradually gathers a harem.

Mating will begin a month or more before hunting season. That’s by design. Most spring seasons are set to start after most hens have bred and begun laying their clutch. But the breeding season doesn’t end abruptly; some hens may start the process later. Others may have lost early clutches to predators or storms and must start over. The ritual continues even as the long-awaited day draws nearer when hunters will take to the woods.  

But before that happens, we need to scout. First comes finding the birds, which is done by looking and listening. Birds easily visible from the road will likely draw a crowd but the ones we can only hear back in the woods might offer less chance of interference. Once a few flocks are located, it’s time for boots on the ground.

First comes scouting signs, like scratched-up leaves on the forest floor or an accumulation of droppings. Those scratches might tell us what the turkeys are eating and which way they’re walking. Some hunters leave it at that and switch to preparing their gear. The more experienced and dedicated ones redouble their scouting.

Knowing the lay of the land where turkeys roost and feed is helpful in preparing a plan, but are no substitute for direct observation. Watching them launch from their limbs and land gives us a better starting point. Seeing which way they go shows us potential ambush locations. Encountering them long after the sun has risen and the gobbling subsided gives us a backup plan should the first one fail. It’s time to get out and scout because the main event is just a couple of weeks away.

Bob Humphrey is a freelance writer and Registered Maine Guide who lives in Pownal. He can be reached at: [email protected]