It's 5:38 a.m. and anot A GOBBLER PULLS his head out from under his wing. He listens. Songbirds barely catch his attention. A few crows squawk. He strains to hear that soft, seductive voice of a hen. In a nearby tree, another gobbler utters a low yelp, almost imperceptible. It's 5:38 a.m. on May 3. Both turkeys stretch their wings. They fan out, but only for a few seconds, then lay every feather perfectly into place. More than 20 minutes pass in silence. The gobblers stretch their necks to 10 peer at the ground. A deer drifts by in the semi-darkness. Then a skunk. At 6:01, the sun is about to peek over the horizon, and a morning shout-out is overdue. Gobble obble obble! One big bird pitches to the ground. Then the other. Both gobblers patrol the area of their roost tree, but only the dominant bird has anything to say. Gobble obble obble! Yesterday a few hens were in the vicinity. Maybe they're in the field.