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.