As a mature eastern gobbler made its way down the steep hill and out into the lush green grass, I stood in my treestand, trying to remain hidden as I tucked in behind the white oak tree. My mind quickly began racing with ideas of how to get my crossbow in position and make the shot without the gobbler catching sight of my movements. The day had already proved to be one in which things had not played in my favor. Earlier that morning, well before sunrise, I quietly made my way along the edge of the massive CRP field…