In retrospect, it seemed like such a good idea.

We knew where the birds were. We were headed to a lightly hunted area. We were faced with the promise of a warm spring morning.

Matthew Bailey, a turkey hunting guide from Farmington, had gotten his jake weeks ago -- during the first week of the season, as a matter of fact. Me, I just needed someone to hold my hand, put me in position and get this all over with. I asked him if he was sure he wanted to get up in the middle of the night just to do a little baby-sitting.

He laughed.

"Hey, it's the last day of the season," he said moments before we hung up the telephone Friday night. "Might as well be hunting, right?"

Right-o. We chatted briefly about the weather, laughing off with a healthy dose of testosterone the threat of light showers forecast for midday. Then we hung up.

As I loaded the car with my gear shortly after 3:30 the next morning, it felt like an August morning -- warm and humid. A few raindrops bounced off the top of my head, and I looked to the skies with a shrug.

By the time I made it to New Sharon in pursuit of Farmington, it was an all-out downpour. That downpour stopped long enough for me to meet up with Matthew and get out into the woods.

From there, it was game on.

And not for the hunters. For the rain.

Heavy droplets peppered through the canopy, rattling every leaf and twig and making it impossible to hear if any toms were out gobbling. Thunder boomed on a few occasions. As the morning brightened around us, we walked back to the truck already wet.

We opted for a swing into town for a cup of coffee. When that didn't allow enough time for the weather to break, we drove around scouting area fields and turkey hot spots.

"I'm usually no fan of heater-hunting," Bailey said.

Me either, I said, but I knew that we were also not fans of other elements.

"Then again," he said, "I don't see any reason for getting wet just for the point of being so wet we're miserable."

I nodded in full agreement.

While the brutal winter of 2007-08 wreaked havoc on Maine's deer herd, anecdotal evidence would suggest that wild turkeys were much luckier on the whole. People are still seeing plenty of turkeys this spring, and early -- and very unofficial -- numbers suggest hunters had some measure of success.

Bailey said he's found them in good numbers.

"Earlier this spring, before they split up, I'd seen groups of hens with nine or 10 in the group," he said.

We also found plenty of signs of birds on Saturday -- fresh tracks and scrapes along the ground.

But as it rained harder and harder, we opted for Plan B. Breakfast.

"I know a little place in town where we'll get some breakfast," Bailey said. "Maybe we can take long enough that the rain will let up."

Over eggs and coffee, I looked out the window of the restaurant.

"I think it's letting up," I said.

We just shook our heads in disgust. Naturally, it wasn't letting up -- it was raining harder than it was when I shed all of my outer layers in the truck to give them some time to dry.

We talked about gas prices, about Ford Mustangs, about our families and about hunting and fishing. Old friends catching up after what had been a busy couple of months while we watched the water fall from the sky.

After breakfast, we layered back up and headed back into the woods. A brief respite in the rain allowed us to walk along the edge of a couple of fields -- through thigh-high grass making sure we got a good soaking once and for all. Finally, we plopped down under a large tree in the woods, with the view of a nearby clearing.

And just as we got settled in, well, of course. It rained as hard as it had all day and thunder began moving in around us. We made the obligatory weatherman jokes.

Finally, mercifully, we called the whole thing off just after 9 a.m. No luck, no birds -- and not a dry stitch of clothing.

How much hunting had we done in almost five hours? Let's just say that we'd have been better off to sleep in, meet up for breakfast, take a ride out to look at a rusted-out Ford Mustang and then go our separate ways.

But we never would have gotten the chance to talk about politics.

Travis Barrett -- 621-5648

tbarrett@centralmaine.com