The weather cooled off here tonight, and the smell of the lake (not far away) and the sound of the North wind in the trees... It got me thinking/writing. I don't claim to be some great poet - But I hope this stirs a fellow duck hunters heart.
Early to bed, early to rise
We have to get out
before birds fill the skies
Before clouds of Canvasbacks
start locking their wings miles away
recklessly committing
fearlessly barreling
their big bodies shining with silk white feathers
glinting in the day's new sun
Before rafts of migrating Bluebills start to stir
Before those hard-charging rocketeers
come skidding to a screeching halt
sending spray off splayed feet
Before a lone Goldeneye, an "honest duck"
begins heroically decoying
bravely coming in with his brilliant chest spread wide
black feathers reaching out
Unconcerned about dangers
lurking in the weeds
Before big groups of Redheads
begin to take our decoys like a storm
landing before we even know
that they've risen to greet us
with the sound of winnowing afterburner wings
Before birds start skirting
the tops of furrowing wild horse waves
cresting across the big water
driven by their maker's north wind
Early to bed, early to rise
We have to get out there
before birds fill the skies
Early to bed, early to rise
We have to get out
before birds fill the skies
Before clouds of Canvasbacks
start locking their wings miles away
recklessly committing
fearlessly barreling
their big bodies shining with silk white feathers
glinting in the day's new sun
Before rafts of migrating Bluebills start to stir
Before those hard-charging rocketeers
come skidding to a screeching halt
sending spray off splayed feet
Before a lone Goldeneye, an "honest duck"
begins heroically decoying
bravely coming in with his brilliant chest spread wide
black feathers reaching out
Unconcerned about dangers
lurking in the weeds
Before big groups of Redheads
begin to take our decoys like a storm
landing before we even know
that they've risen to greet us
with the sound of winnowing afterburner wings
Before birds start skirting
the tops of furrowing wild horse waves
cresting across the big water
driven by their maker's north wind
Early to bed, early to rise
We have to get out there
before birds fill the skies