True, nothing may work at that particular time -- but you'll never know if you don't try.

Earlier, I told you about a trio of gobblers that came only so far on a hunt Tom Stone and I were on. Stone is a good caller with plenty of experience, and I'm at least fair. But on that particular morning, the toms couldn't have cared less. They were stuck in their tracks, telling the imaginary hens they heard (that is, Stone and me) to come to them -- which, of course, we couldn't do.

We'd been trading off calling duties, using both friction and mouth calls. The toms seemed vocally interested in every string of yelps we made. But for the time being, they wouldn't commit to us and come even a step closer.

Attempting to remedy the situation, I reached into my vest and retrieved a traditional pot-and-peg slate call. Holding the peg, or striker, somewhat like a pencil with the top angled forward, I made small circles on the calling surface, which produced a series of loud yelps.

The toms gobbled back with gusto, but they still refused to budge.

After pausing for a couple of minutes, I called with less volume. A short while later, I yelped even more softly, like a hen slowly moving away. Those sweet slate-call yelps were the key. The turkeys couldn't stand the thought of being jilted!

After a flurry of gobbles, they worked their way uphill, right past Stone and me. That's when Stone pulled the trigger and collected a striking adult Rio Grande gobbler.

Stone was delighted with the turn of events. I wasn't surprised when the change of pace worked -- it wasn't the first time a simple adjustment made the difference between a nice day in the woods and an even better successful day.

If I notched my favorite old box call every time I fooled a gobbler with it, there wouldn't be any wood left. I'm not bragging, simply stating a fact. I've called turkeys regularly with that box since 1972 and finally retired it last spring, after 35 years!

I replaced it with a new box of a similar design -- which has already accounted for at least one big tom.

A typical box-call scenario unfolded several years ago on a Merriam's turkey hunt with Ed Sweet.