A few years ago, I sneaked through the woods to set up my Pretty Boy on a ridge some 200 yards from a grass field where lots of gobbling was going on. It was around 8 a.m. and I was hoping to pull a gobbler from the group to my calling. After some 20 minutes, a gobbler popped up over the ridge some 25 yards away and I sent a load of #5 into the now-flopping tom. Upon inspection of the bird, he only had three tail feathers, probably my ugliest gobbler to date.