Accidents do happen

I want to take time to tell some stories that have been told to me by friends and families. I will change the names to protect the innocent.

In a duck blind, a lot of things get shot, especially the bull. Stories are told, jokes are made and the coffee thermos is passed around. An older fellow, we will call John, has spent a lot of time listening and laughing. He is a big man, who always wears overalls. He smokes unfiltered Marlboro Reds, and drinks only the finest Budweiser beer. In his prime, he probably was one of the toughest men around, and still is today. He has duck hunted most of his life.

Upon someone making a comment about the frigid temperature, John remarked “You don’t know nothing about being cold.” as he took a pull off his cowboy killer cigarette. “Once I was guiding a hunting group up near Big Sandy. It was going to be an all day affair. We brought all the food, all the drinks and all the essentials for a duck blind, or at least we thought. I was sitting next to some young guys, discussing politics and wives, and suddenly felt the urge to go to the bathroom. After a quick rummage through every blind bag we brought, I discovered we had no toilet paper. Now leaves and such were out of the question. The blind was built on a sandy beach, with cane for brush. This left me with two options. Hold it and wait, or drive the boat 20 minutes back to the truck. As I was thinking on this, a group of pintails buzzed the blind. Hold it became the only option. Time passed and I guess I forgot. But as lunch drew near, and conversation ensued, I felt the urge to pass a little gas. As I reared back and prepared to demonstrate the proper technique, I realized this was no fart. It was too late. I had already messed up. Everyone in the blind was hooping and laughing and holding their noses. I smelled terrible, and had nothing to assist in the cleanup effort. No one in the blind would drive the boat back to the truck and drop me off because I smelled so bad. So with ice on the water, I came out of my waders, and stripped down to only what the Lord had given me, and washed myself in the river. The temperature was around 19 degrees.”

The lesson from John’s story is either always be prepared or always carry toilet paper!

Duck Hunting Lesson

I have learned several things from duck hunting. Life lessons if you will. One of the first, and most significant, is that if you don’t shoot on a group of ducks, you are probably going to wish you had. Now we can compare this to life all day. Opportunities not taken, chances missed, women we should have asked out, and men you should have smiled at. Now let me get deeper in it. If you have a blind full of hunters, and at least one of them shoots at a group of ducks, whether a duck falls or not, they shot and those ducks are gone and so is the opportunity. Yes they may have gotten closer, yes they may have swung differently, but the point is the chance is there and you didn’t take it. Let this be a lesson learned. Let this be lesson #1.

Christmas Day Duck Hunting

Twas the day before Christmas and all through the house,
A young lady was looking and searching for her missing spouse.
He was nowhere to be found or so she thought,
because he had snuck out early trying not to get caught.
He must satisfy an addiction he cannot shake.
Tis the tedious pursuit of the Mallard Drake.
If he comes back with a limit or empty handed,
it will not matter, for he will be remanded.
There will be cleaning and cooking for him to do.
Presents to wrap and coco to brew.
No hunting will happen for the next couple days,
Unless it gets right, then hell he will pays.
His wife will be mad and shout, But if the ducks are flying, he’ll never miss out.

Merry Christmas!

Mallard Mayhem

I sit all day staring at the sky,

Wondering when the ducks will fly.

We call at every passing bird,

Whose path seems to be undeterred.

Sometimes we pray, sometimes we hope,

Most of the time we cuss to cope.

Then out of the clear blue yonder,

Comes a group that does not wander.

Their radar is locked and nothing seems to matter

So we give em’ a feed call, a quack and a little chatter.

No less than 50 was working our spread,

When one lonely suzy seems to fall out dead.

She sails straight down with her feet hung out.

Planning on landing was beyond any doubt.

Now what to do in this situation,

Brings most hunters enormous aggravation.

Do we shoot the suzy, and flare the rest?

Or let her sit and hope for the best?

We decide to let her stay,

And hope the rest don’t get away.

Ask we call to the big group,

Miss Suzy gets suspicious, and flees the coupe.

As she flares and flies away

The others go with her to our dismay.

Phrases come to mind about birds in hand, and lessons learned

But the bag limit was our main concern.

No worries now though about being a waterfowl hero,

Because we will be headed back home with a big fat ZERO.