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Rocky Drake and Rodriguez got to be buddies.

Being an avid turkey hunter, I immensely look forward to spring time and opening day of turkey season. There’s just nothing like hearing that first gobble of the year.

For the last few years, I’ve spent a lot of time away from home chasing gobblers in several different states. It’s a good thing my wonderful wife, Angela, is so understanding.

Our home is located just outside of Huntsville, which is in the northern part of the state. Behind our house is a wooded area and from time to time wild animals like deer, bobcat, skunks and, every now and then, a turkey will stroll through our backyard.

In this particular area, there’s never been enough turkey to hunt, so I often drive about 45 miles north to hunt in Tennessee, where turkeys are plentiful.

It was the first week of March, 2006. As I open the back door one morning to feed the birds, to my surprise there were three hen turkeys in the backyard. The instant they saw me, they ran into the woods and disappeared. The next day they were back again. Because of all the turkey droppings on the back porch, it was very obvious they were eating the birdseed I had put out for the song birds.

As days passed, they became less afraid of my presence and wouldn’t leave the yard when I came outside. This got to be an everyday event. Angela and I both enjoyed their company.

April finally arrived and it was opening week of turkey season, so I headed north to Tennessee to hunt. Mid-morning I got a call from Angela. She was all excited and said, "There’s a peeping tom looking into our bedroom!"

"Call the police," I whispered into the cell phone. (I was still in the woods hunting.)

She began to laugh. I didn’t think it was too funny until she explained. She had heard something outside pecking on the glass door of our bedroom.

The pecking kept getting louder and louder. Not knowing what to expect, she pulls back the curtain and there was a peeping tom.

He had a red, white and blue head with a long beard. He was seeing his reflection in the glass and that’s why he was pecking on the door.

Now, I felt a little foolish when Angela laughed and made the comment, "Here you are fifty miles up the road turkey hunting and there’s a big gobbler pecking on our bedroom door!"

Rodriguez, “The Peeping Tom,” would peck on the back door until he and his hens were pitched some birdseed. Upon seeing his reflection in the back door glass, Rodriguez started jumping up and hitting the door with his spurs. Then he got mad. He started stomping everything around him. By the time he was chased off the back porch, it looked like a tornado had hit.

Each morning after Rodriguez would fly down from his roost, he and his hens would head straight to the back porch. If there was no birdseed, he would peck on the back door until I pitched some to them. He finally got to where he would walk within a few feet of me. His hens, however, were a little more cautious.

One day I looked out and saw him standing on the back door step looking at his reflection in the glass. After a few minutes of this, he began jumping up hitting the door with his spurs, getting more and more agitated. Then he got mad. He started stomping everything around him. He completely destroyed a ceramic figurine Angela really, really liked and two clay flowerpots Angela really, really liked.

Before I could get a broom and run him off, it looked like a tornado had hit the back porch. Angela was not happy with Rodriguez. She jokingly said I should shoot him. I told her it was illegal to shoot turkey over bait. She wasn’t happy with me either when she heard me telling a friend about the incident, laughing about it.

By now, the mating season was in full force and Rodriguez was hanging close to his hens.

One day, I came home and saw Rodriguez standing on a log just inside the woods. His hens were close to him pecking around. For some reason, I got to wondering what he would do if I took my prized stuffed gobbler (who I nicknamed Mr. T) out into the yard for him to see. Bad idea!

The instant Rodriguez saw Mr. T, his peaceful, content demeanor changed. He got a mean, mad look in his eyes and came running straight toward me and Mr. T. I turned and started running as fast as I could toward the garage. Rodriguez was on my heels, trying his best to flog the back of my legs.

As I rounded the corner into the garage, I looked back. Rodriguez was coming fast.

Now let me say this, I’ve on many occasions in Canada had black bear climb up the tree I was hunting in and none of them had ever put the fear in me like this turkey.

Once in the garage I had nowhere else to go but into the kitchen. Since I couldn’t open the door while carrying Mr. T, I sat my prized turkey down and went inside to safety.

I peeked through the window into the garage to witness Rodriguez beating the crap out of Mr. T. There were feathers flying! I finally got a broom out of the laundry room, ran him out of the garage and shut the door.

When Angela got home I showed her what Rodriguez had done to Mr. T – my prized stuffed gobbler. He looked like he had been run over with a lawn mower. Well, I didn’t get much sympathy as she reminded me of the ceramic figurine and flowerpots that used to sit on the back porch. What goes around comes around.

Not long after that, Rodriguez and his hens moved on. I keep looking for him to show back up. Up until now, he hasn’t. I sure do miss old Rodriguez, "The Peeping Tom."

Rocky Drake is a freelance writer from Big Cove and the host of the TV program "Rocky Drake Outdoors.".