That cold December morning spent on a small pond near Lake Seminole was not outstanding just because seven ducks were bagged. That morning was amazing because of my hunting partner for the day.
This young man lives for the outdoors. He was fifteen at the time and had duck hunted with me several times prior to this but, we never could seem to really get into the birds. This morning was different.
A cold front had blown through the night before and the northern winds that followed whipped the big lake into a frothy mess. The wind also carried with it a batch of fresh ducks ignorant to our decoys and tactics. We bagged a couple wood ducks right after legal shooting light but, as the sun crept over the trees, the real fun began. Ring necks seeking refuge from the harsh winds began to trickle into the pond in singles and pairs. The wind over their wings, a sound very similar to being buzzed by a fighter jet, heralded their approach each time. We tried to be ready but, they were fast. Some of them so fast we didn’t even cut a feather. But, in between each volley, there were plenty of laughs and good natured ribbing between the two of us. When all was said and done, we had a pair of wood ducks and five ring necks on the water. We launched the boat, collected our birds, and examined the legs hoping for a band.
When we stopped at the check station on the way out, we discovered we were the only duck hunters to bag a single bird that morning. The look on that young man’s face was priceless. It was pure pride. After we some breakfast, we dressed the birds and I took him home. He must have said “Thank you” a hundred times on that short ride home. He was still grinning from ear to ear when I dropped him off. I knew this would be a day neither of us would soon forget.
