I think turkey calls are a lot like guitar calls. A good guitarist can extract a sweet tone from any decent guitar. A good interlocutor knows how to conduct a conversation.
But the calling of the devourers is shrouded in a veil of secrecy that has never been lifted. One morning the forest rings with gobblers. There’s still no guarantee we’ll get anyone. Even many answers. Expectancy. The forests are dripping with dew and expectation. Of course, the next morning, right behind, at first featherlight. However, there the forest is like a mouse.