As the end of winter plays out, you'll be raking the last of the pine straw from your yard when you hear a familiar sound high above your lawn. Shading your eyes against the sky's brilliance, you'll search until you find the source of the sound.

There, gliding on the breeze, will be a black speck that has found its way across the Caribbean to send its lilting tune across the still-sleeping Louisiana landscape -- the season's first purple martin.

The martins' return signals that spring's on the way. Soon after they arrive, crimson clover will flower along the roadsides, and pine buds will swell, preparing to spew their yellow dust onto cars and porches, and into twitching nostrils. The blooming of the dogwoods won't be far behind.

While all this is taking place, something else will be happening. Out in the woods, an old tom, content to have spent the winter foraging for enough to eat, will respond to primal urges he hasn't felt since late last spring. He'll awaken from his roost high in a pine, and when a barred owl calls from a nearby swamp, out of the turkey's throat will thunder spontaneously a sound that, as he hasn't made it in months, might even startle him: a gobble.

A quarter-mile away, a hunter who parked his pickup before dawn at the crest of a hill will get out and sip from his coffee when he hears the bird. Smiling to himself, the man will mentally mark the direction from which the gobble came, and its approximate distance from the truck.

The next morning he'll carefully his way through the dark woods, get a fix on the bird's location and find a tree large enough to cover his back. When full daylight is just moments away, the hunter will slip a diaphragm call into his mouth and emit an ever-so-light tree call -- three yelps so soft that he'll wonder if the gobbler can hear. An immediate and thundering double-gobble from the bird in the pine will let him know that he's been heard.

Showtime. Hearing a branch crack, he'll peer through the slit in his facemask to watch a dark form sail out of the pine and land 50 yards in front of his position. A soft purr and cluck will be all it takes to induce the gobbler to home in on the decoy.

The gobbler will strut up to the decoy; the hunter will "putt" on his call. Breaking his strut, the gobbler will thrust his head up in alarm. Too late: A well-placed load of high brass number No. 6s does the trick. Mission accomplished.

Thousands of Louisiana turkey hunters will toss and turn in their beds on Friday, March 24 -- the night before the season opens. They'll find sleep hard to come by, because at dawn the next morning, they'll be joined from one end of the state to the other by similarly afflicted hunters who'll be at their favorite listening spots to welcome the opening of turkey season.

And what will these hunters find when they get to their favorite woods? Will the devastating hurricanes of last summer and fall have had any effect on hunting success this year? What about reproduction? Were there factors that compromised the hatch, or did Louisiana see a strong one last year?