This was without a doubt the hardest bird that I have ever hunted. We had him pegged in some steep ridges on National Forest. So one morning before work, Adam, Daniel, and I slipped up the mountain. We were 30 yards from the top when he gobbled. I don’t know which sound was more defening, the bird or my heartbeat. He was on one side of the ridge we were just over the other. We set up in a tough spot. The laruels were just high enough to block our view while sitting and we were on the side slope of the mountain. That bird gobbled and strutted along the top of the ridge for over 30min. with no shot oppourtunities. My arms and legs were so tired from holding my position without moving that I don’t know if I had enough strength left to raise my gun even if he had stepped into the open. Finally he spooked a little and ran into the deep hollar on the opposite side of the ridge. We snuck to the top and couldn’t see or hear him. We got the idea that I would work my way down to a three-trunked tree about 20 yards down the face of the ridge. Right as I reached the tree, the Tom stepped out in front of me at 40 yards. I dusted his head and after that it was a race to the bottom of the mountain to catch up with him.