Make mistakes in the turkey woods. Then learn from them.

I've never been one to worry too much about making mistakes.

Do I like being wrong? Uh, no. But I also realize that there are very few people who are truly willing to take a chance and live with the consequences. So many people are so afraid of failure that they simply do nothing -- but you can't fail if you don't try. Of course, the flip side of that is you can't really succeed either.

Failure in the turkey woods is the norm. Success is the rarity. That's what makes these confounding birds so darned fun to hunt.

In all honesty, I don't think there's a better -- or more effective -- way to learn than by trial and error.

Here's a few instances of turkey hunts that went wrong -- and then went right.

The tale of Tail Feather

This gobbler had nine lives. Seriously. For eight straight mornings, the bird had roosted in the same tree and gobbled hard every morning.

Then he'd fly down and never -- not once -- take the same route to a corn field where he'd strut for his harem.

Every time I hunted that bird, he whupped me. He'd gobble at every call. He'd strut. He'd tease. But he simply would not come in. He would just go to that field.

Well, I learned from my mistakes, and rather than get frustrated and quit, let the bird's actions do him in.

On the ninth morning, I set up on the gobbler as he fired from the treetops. And I never made a peep.

Tail Feather -- so named because he was missing a feather from his tail fan -- roosted with his hens and a couple of subordinate birds. I had never paid attention to those gobblers before and it cost me.

On this morning, however, I used those gobblers against him. After the flock had flown down and headed for the field, I delivered a few hen calls followed up with a gobble call.

Five minutes later my hunting buddy dropped the hammer and Tail Feather's reign was done. Do I care that I wasn't the one who killed the turkey? Nope. All that mattered to me was that I had responded to past failures and used them to my advantage.

The field strutter

Last spring, I hunted a group of birds that loved to strut in a giant cornfield. There were a half-dozen strutters in the group and a bunch of hens.

I never hunted those birds off the roost because they were actually roosting on property I don't have access to. So I always hunted them mid-morning after they had moved into the field.

The first day, a buddy and I snuck to the edge of the field and started to call. Big mistake. The gobbler would respond but the hens wanted nothing to do with us and promptly led the gobblers away.

The next day, we again moved in on the birds only this time we staked out a hen and strutting tom decoy before ever making a call. This time when we started to call to the birds, the flock saw other turkeys -- and most importantly the longbeards saw an intruder.

They closed the distance quickly and it wasn't long before a longbeard was doing the dirt dance after receiving a beak full of Winchester No. 6s. It was beautiful.

Mr. Rooster

I am almost ashamed to share this story simply because it's a testament to just how stubborn I can be.

For four straight mornings, I had set up on a longbeard that loved to roost in a stand of huge maples. He would gobble and gobble and gobble. And I would call and call and call.

Each call I made would jerk a response from the bird. But here's the problem: He'd never come out of the tree until well after sunup.

And when he did, he'd fly down and head the other way without making another sound.

Well, finally I wised up and admitted that I was wrong. I simply was not going to be able to call that bird in. So I did what had to be done.

I sent in a hunting partner to call to the turkey. And the bird, just as expected, would gobble and gobble. And then he flew down and headed the opposite direction.

Which just so happened to be the direction I had slipped in from in the dark. I shot him at 15 yards.

Summary

Turkey hunters can' afford to be proud. If you want to kill turkeys, you must be willing to admit defeat. And then be willing to take those defeats and turn them into learning experiences. If you're afraid to try new changes because you're afraid of messing up, you're going to be limited in the amount of opportunities you have.

It's that simple.

No one likes to be wrong. Except in the turkey woods. Because it is there that mistakes can mean success. You just have to be willing to learn from them.