Dave Church
Well-known member
View attachment 2010_0116hertersheads0003.JPGSaturday morning and KC is sitting next to the bed staring at me, chin resting on the mattress, minutes before the alarm goes off. This is one retriever that doesn't want to miss the last weekend of the season. I open the door so that he can go to the bathroom or just poke around in the backyard making sure that nothing has changed. It's fairly warm as the wind blasts me in the face and I turn to finish getting dressed. I can hear the rain smack the windows as the wind pushes it around in the dark. Sounds ducky. KC lets himself in thru the french doors because of the long, easy to work door handles. I mumble under my breath to change those one day. He crunches at his food in his dish as I pour some ice tea and go thru my mental checklist of gear to have with me. After a few minutes, I open the garage door and walk out only to find very little wind and no rain. I guess the weather is better on the front of my house. I load the last of the gear into the back of the Jeep and KC slides into the passenger seat. The ride is the normal route, stopping to get McDonalds for me and the dog, a few minutes listening to the weather and using that info to decide where to hunt. With the forecast given, I decide to hunt a backwater. Bad choice. By ten o'clock, I know that a shot is not in my future and pack it in. My season is over. I could hunt tomorrow (Sunday) but why bother. The season was dissapointing for ducks anyway and I could probably use some sleep since I have felt sort of run down for the last week. Get home, put everything in it's place and take a nap. I wake mid afternoon and have decided to hunt Sunday. I ask my oldest if he is "in" and he says yes. I begin getting all the gear ready for the morning and starting the ritual all over again. Sunday morning comes and it's almost an identical twin to Saturday except 15 degrees colder. The rain stops before we get to the lake and we pick blind #3 since it usually produces (as good as a SW Missouri blind can) and I begin to set out the dekes in the rough choppy darkness. My hat light continuously sweeps across the dekes as I put them out to ensure that none of my corks are breaking loose in the dark. KC bumps into me in the dark water and startles me for a second. I tell him to get back up to the bank before he tangles the dekes and he swims away in the blackness. Tommy's light bounces inside the roughly made blind as he goes about setting out his gear and readying the guns. A quick check of the watch shows 15 minutes until shooting time and I make my way back to the blind, stumbling over hidden rocks and logs. I stash the bags inside the blind and sit down, leaning against the back wall. The wind scampers over the front wall and stings my face. I close my eyes and bury my face into the collar of my jacket and wait. My ears strain for any sounds of ducks, but the wind roars and whips all sounds away. My mind thinks about the day before and the lack of birds. "Please don't let this be a repeat"...I say to myself. My body aches from the cold and the gear that I hauled in and out by myself yesterday. My mind thinks about the needed sleep and tells my body to just go to sleep. In the darkness I try to get comfortable but keep thinking about my right pant leg that is bunched up from putting my waders on. I tell myself that if I walk around enough it will settle into it's proper place. I feel cold on my hand and flick on my light to see that a large hole has been torn in my neoprene decoy gloves. I try to remember how long I have had them, several years......I guess it's time for new ones. Duck hunting........you never stop spending money....ever! I fumble in my pocket and pull out some shells. I am happy with myself for making marks on the brass with a marker that helps me identify the shot size. I shove a six in the chamber and then load a two and four so that my final shot will be the #2. I have always loaded this way, not really sure why...just habit I suppose. The gun rests against my chest and my eyes close again. The branches and grass scratch at the wooden roof and I think about the morning. Shooting time will mean nothing as the morning will stay very dark from the low, fast moving clouds. I sit up with a little panic and quickly scan across and count my decoys once more. They are there, bouncing along in the chop, ready to go to work. I lay back again and hear Tommy say "shooting time Dad". It sounds nice having my son with me and I reply with my eyes closed, "wake me when they're in the dekes." KC's teeth chatter somewhere in the blind and it reminds me of a woodpecker. I reach out and feel his wet nose in the hole in my glove. Just then Tommy calls out "mallard from the left." I sit up and watch the dark shape lock up and glide behind us and KC steps out of the blind as I start a feed chuckle. I watch KC's face to see where the bird is and never have to turn around or look up. The bird soars over the trees and to my right. I whisper "mine" as the drake cups and falls toward the decoys. The Benelli barks in the gusting wind and the drake spirals into the corks. KC is after him fast and I hear a "Nice shot Pops" from my son. I sit back and watch as my young dog swims after a cripple that continues to flap and swim away. After a few minutes of determined swimming, KC is dropping a very alive drake at my feet. A quick scuffle in the blind ensues as KC, Tom and I try to catch the duck as it runs and flops around in the blind. I quickly put it down and rememebr that nothing should have to suffer. I pat KC on the head and dig out another shell as I watch some more mallards pop in from the tree line. The cold brass touches the hole in my glove again......last day of the season........I only have about 9 months to get new gloves. I show Tommy the marks I put on the brass of the shotshell and remind him how clever I am. He points to the side of the shell where the shot size in marked from the factory. I start to explain that it is for easy recognition while they are in the shell box and all you can see is the brass.......but then just give up and start an excited feeder chuckle. Smartass kid..........sure like having him wth me...dc
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