Season pursuit was built. First Day Monday, May 6, 1968. It was cold and foggy on the mountaintop as I waited in the dark with only the whisper of a fine drizzle against my hand-painted camo outfit. Everything I'd read about locating a gobbler suggested listening from a high elevation, and this was the highest mountain around. It was a long way up, but no real test for 17-yearold legs driven by the anticipation of a MAY 2019 Reflections of Pennsylvania's 50th spring turkey hunt new outdoor experience. It seemed I waited forever for first light, shivering slightly in the mid-30-degree air as I cooled off from the long climb. I tucked my Olt crow call on its lanyard beneath my jacket to keep it dry. In one inner pocket, I carried an Olt F-6 turkey-scratch call that produced a nice rendition of hen yelps and clucks, like those on my 45-rpm instructional record. Bought in a hardware store, it worked by scraping one of its cedar edges against a chalked wooden dowel or a gun stock's 45