Congratulations, Seth! Same here.
At the risk of catching heck for shooting a chick, I will admit I killed a jake at 9:00am.
He acted like a big bird, he gobbled like he owned the place, and it worked exactly as I described in an above post. I should throw it in here that I shot him with a gun that was given to me by my childhood hunting and fishing mentor. His name was Amos Frazier. In my eyes, he was the most woods-wise man I've ever known. He took me salmon fishing for a month at a time at his place on the Ausable River, we fished for bass and walleye together in Canada, squirrel hunted around home, deer and turkey hunted all over the southern part of Ohio. He was a great friend and mentor to a kid that was absolutely ate up with all things wild. Amos had a place on Lake Seminole in Bainbridge Ga. He lived full time there for the last 20 years or so. I didn't see him much since he had moved. He passed away last January. During one of our last conversations, he asked me what of his I would like when he passed. It was an uncomfortable conversation for me, and I tried to change the subject. He said bluntly, "Look, Brock, we've been friends for your entire life. My time is almost up, and I want you to have whatever of mine you'd like". All I could say was "Uhhh... your "long tom", and Model 37". Amos had one of the finest collections of firearms of anyone I know, yet he always turkey hunted with a Sears "long tom", and deer hunted with the 37. They seemed fitting reminders to me of a good man that meant a lot to me. Anyway, I took Amos's "long tom" to the woods today, and that sorta made that jake a trophy to me. BTW, he never flopped a feather.