Gradually, the turkey blind began to fill up inside.

I had a shotgun and ammunition. A turkey vest, rain gear, face mask, two cameras, binoculars, several books, a notebook, cheater glasses, a thermos, a soft-sided cooler for water and snacks, and two kitchen chairs.I had the two kitchen chairs because the doctor had said to keep my foot elevated. I'd broken a small bone in my foot, and after a couple down days of Downton Abbey reruns, I couldn't stand it one more hour. I really missed being outside.My friend Earl Thomas, Palo Alto, made a visit and set up the spacious blind. My friend Chuck Soroka, Sugar Notch, set up the kitchen chairs. We put the blind in a spot where I could drive directly to its door on the ATV.I think few things are finer than sipping coffee at sunrise from a hunting blind, unless of course it's doing that while a turkey gobbles. But although I was thoroughly enjoying myself, I was also getting frustrated.I was seeing plenty of turkeys, hens, jakes and gobblers. But I couldn't make a move. Each day I had hens so close that I could have hit one in the head with one of my banana peels, but they wouldn't bring their boyfriends. I saw male turkeys gobbling with great enthusiasm and power, throwing their heads forward and making the woods thunder, but they were too far for a shot.But by Thursday morning I had learned a little something. Yes, it was fun to "talk" back and forth with the hens, having a live decoy hanging around my decoy. But sooner or later, a tom turkey would respond with a gobble, and the hen would go to him. So here's what I learned - shut up. Stop chatting with the hens and think about how to make something happen.Thursday morning, I heard what I thought was someone's attempt to sound like a hen turkey very close to me. It was awful, sounded like someone overusing a plunger-style call. I had gathered my crutches and was about to unzip the blind, to see who it was, when the hen appeared making the sound.She was a different hen than any I had seen so far, with a visible swirl on her chest that looked like the start of a beard. She fluffed herself up a bit as she stalked around my decoy in a threatening manner. She edged away slowly, picking at the ground.When she'd been gone for several minutes, I picked up my slate call and hoped I could create some soft yelps and a breeding purr on my first attempt, without messing up too badly. I was hoping that the live hen had recently given a gobbler the slip, and that he'd be looking for her.I did the call sequence twice, but had no response. I had just poured a second cup of coffee when I spotted two gobblers coming in a hurry from my right. They were coming in silently and at about the same time I saw them, they saw my decoy.They hung up just a little and I was able to make a couple quiet yelps with a mouth call. That gave them confidence and they both came to the decoy. The challenge was to make sure I only shot one. When they separated, I made a yelp that was more like a hiccup but it worked - one flung up his head, giving me a good shot.If I didn't have a broken foot, I probably would have been pursuing the turkeys, possibly with success, possibly not. Instead, my injury had taught me some secrets to turkey hunting - patience, and a couple good books.