After what may have been the coldest winter on record in the Southeast, it seems like spring and old man winter are in the midst of an epic battle for control over the weather and woods. Spring is winning, but you’d have had a hard time convincing me of that on Saturday—Opening Day of spring gobbler season here in South-central Florida. Though where dad and I hunt is only a fraction of a degree north of the tropical/warm-temperate climate boundary, at 5:30 a.m. there was ice was on the windshield, and as I walked through the wet cypress hammock toward a blind my boots broke through ice with every step. I had enough clothes on to look like the Michelin Man in camo, but still I felt pretty good about bagging a bird. Statewide, the woods have resounded with gobbles for a couple of weeks, and the birds have been strutting.

Turkey season opens first in the Everglades, before everywhere else in North America and I’ve hunted opening weekend almost every year of my life. Each year, a network of turkey hunting buddies across America keep my phone ringing off the hook that weekend, in anticipation of what lies ahead for them. Everybody is champing at the bit, so I’ll risk a forecast. Barring late-season blizzards, look for the birds to be randy as hell early on. Dad, friend Jesse Terry, and I were just about sexually assaulted by big toms this weekend, and we figure that the gobbling, fighting and hen chasing will slow down by mid season. So get your gear ready, practice calling, and be ready to get out there on opening day. 

1. Opening morning, my dad, Bert Gibson, had a jake make a beeline for him. “He was gobbling so loud he was rattling my teeth, and what a display he put on.” Dad let that bird go. He knew that two big Toms were traveling together near his blind. Next morning, he set up a hen decoy and the Toms fought like hell over it. This Osceola had a 10-inch beard, 1 3/8ths-inch spurs, and weighed a little over 19 pounds. It’s going on the wall.