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dreary, cool, rainy weather, then two really chilly nighfs, many of the hunters I talked to had found, as I had, that the gobblers were very quiet.
My oldest son, Bobby, and I decided to hunt on a large piece of private land where we would be the only hunters. The woods were perfect — trees in bloom, buds appearing on the forest floor, and signs of wildlife of all kinds everywhere.
We saw deer tracks, old rubs and scrapes from last fall, turkey scratchings, croppings and feathers, groundhog holes, hawks, crows, squirrels, and spent a memorable 25 to 30 minutes sneaking up on four little red fox pups.
We were dressed in camouflage and these little guys just couldn’t figure out what in the world we were. Sure, foxes eat a lot of quail and rabbits, but these little fuzz balls were just plumb cute.
Bobby spotted them first at about 50 yards, and we decided to spend a little time working toward them to see what would happen.
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