I just returned from two days of hunting turkeys in Iowa's Loess Hill State Forest near the little town of Pisgah in Harrison County. A couple of our group of four had tagged turkeys by the time I had to leave. I didn't get one, but I would not consider the hunt unsuccessful. I saw tons of wildlife, including more wild turkeys than I had seen in the rest of my life up to that point and I learned quite a bit more about their habits and behavior.

The Loess Hills is a unique geologic formation of somewhat parallel ridges or dunes of wind-blown fine soil along the east side of the Missouri River Valley with deep valleys between them. The soil is very rich and most of the valley floors are cropped in corn and soy beans just like the rest of Iowa. Fields tend to be long and narrow as they wind between the hills, and, at least on Loess Hills State Forest land, all of the fields have grass or grass-legume boarders all around. The high ridges used to be covered primarily with prairie, but many of the slopes are now covered with diverse oak-dominated forest. Some steeper fields have been placed in the CRP program and converted back to native prairie. In other words, it's a very diverse area biologically and presents nearly ideal habitat for many kinds of Iowa wildlife.

Nearly every corn field had turkeys feeding in it just before sundown. Sometimes it was just one or two, but in other cases there would be flocks of as many as several dozen birds. At least one of the turkeys in each group tended to be a mature male, known as a "tom", and sometimes there would be multiple toms. Toms are awfully impressed with themselves at this time of year and slowly walk through their personal entourage of hens with their feathers all fluffed up in the classic turkey strut with their spectacular tail in full fan for their ladies to see and admire. We even saw a lone tom standing in the sunset in full strut; still just as impressed with himself as if he'd had a dozen admirers gathered around.

A turkey hunter's decoys and calling must be very convincing to lure a seasoned old tom into range. Any flaw in the hunter's camouflage, the slightest movement, or a bungled call can instantly turn a slowly approaching strutting tom into a sleek sprinter streaking away in the opposite direction. A wise old hen spotted my buddy's hiding spot and gave him a good scolding before she turned and walked away.

As I said, I learned quite a bit, as I often do when I'm well hidden and sitting still in good wildlife habitat. A pair of cardinals shared the brush pile I had burrowed into and talked softly together as we waited for the sun to rise on Tuesday morning. I had walked in with no light along the edge of a field we had scouted the night before. Sharp-eyed turkeys were likely roosting high in the trees on the ridge above that field, and I didn't want to let a flashlight give away my presence. A small herd of young does began feeding nearby at first light. One of them about fifty feed away must have smelled or heard me, but couldn't figure out exactly where I was. She'd stare intently in my directly and briefly raise her white flag tail in concern. When she couldn't find me her tail would go down and she'd continue to feed until a puff of breeze brought her another whiff and she's stare my way again for several seconds. This went on for nearly ten minutes. A crow eventually landed in the tree above my head as it grew lighter and loudly welcomed the approaching sunrise – or maybe was telling the whole wild world that something wasn't right in that brush pile.

Turkeys avoided my end of the field, but I enjoyed watching them wander around my buddy's setup about 300 yards down the other side of the field until he finally bagged one about mid morning. We returned to that site again in the afternoon and finally were treated to a visit by three sleek hens. They dusted in the field and fed on seeds, bugs, and greens not far from our hiding spot for nearly half an hour. They had wandered nearly to the other side of the field when two mature toms emerged from the trees not far from where I'd been sitting in the morning. The dominant bird instantly went into full strut and responded to each of my calls with an explosive gobble. The three young beauties who had visited us eventually took all his attention, though, and he and his sidekick then ignored my best efforts at calling them over. A wandering hiker scattered the turkeys just before sundown and ended the show we had been enjoying. It was time to go anyway, and I had a long drive ahead to get home and write this column for you this morning.