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Duck hunting

The GOD D*MN Bay

Moonlight casts the longest shadows.

Two silhouettes. A man. And his dog.

Me? Furious. Sweaty. Plodding down the street in 1,000 lb waders.

The dog? Happy. Go-lucky. Pissing in flower beds. Trying to lighten the mood.

We weren’t really lost. I’ve hunted the bay enough to know exactly where we were. That said. We weren’t where we wanted to be.

Three hours ago shooting time ended with a spectacular sunset. One of those “this is why I hunt ducks” kind of moments. Between then and now? Less than spectacular.

Low water in the bay nagged us to find a new way back to the launch. We dragged the canoe a fair distance just to set the decoys. The idea was to avoid all that work. All that hassle. In the dark. Without a spotlight.

All we found was mud.

The sun disappeared. We walked.

The moon rose. Dusty dragged the canoe.

Hours passed before the situation boiled over. We split up.

Dusty backtracked to deeper water to motor to the launch. My plan was to fight shin-deep mud and get to the road. Thick. Evil mud. That swallowed my boots deeper and deeper the longer I paused to catch my breath.

Moonlight casts the longest shadows.

Two silhouettes. A man. And his dog.

Standing by the truck. Waiting for their friend. Who is still lost in the bay.

Me? Guilty. Worried. Wondering how much the Coast Guard helicopter is gonna cost.

The dog? Asleep.

I heard the outboard just yards from the launch. We didn’t say much while we loaded the trucks.

Except.

“Where we hunting next weekend?”

“Anywhere but the God Damn Bay”

Hunters with Ducks

The Morning Hunt was Good

The Pup, Tugboat, did a great job. And we had enough water to float the canoes.

Mallards

Mike with Fistfulls of Mallards

The sunset on a great day.

The start of the faithful trip back to the truck.

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