You know there are no ducks when someone says, “I just like being out here.” This was the case last weekend when my son and I woke up, layered up, and dragged gear into a small, icing over beaver pond in the hopes of a ducks landing in the decoys.
In the past, my son, 8, has come on these hunts only to complain “I’m ready to go now.” This time was different. This time he watched the woods waking up and this time he noticed things. The hooting of a barred owl marking its territory, the song birds calling to each other as they wake, and the squirrels chattering and running from tree to tree all broke through the still and quiet morning one after another. Soon, it was the cawing of a murder of crows flying over the swamp. Dylan just hollers back. “AND A CAW CAW TO YOUR TOO!” I just laughed.
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| Dylan Watching the Swamp Wake Up |
Then he looked at the calls around my neck and asked how to blow them. I handed him the wood duck whistle and he puffed his checks to produce an awful screech. A little instruction and it sounded pretty good.
After our toes were starting to numb, we picked up the dekes and headed back to camp; Dylan stopping to jump in a puddle and to laugh at the cawing of a few more crows. He probably thought we had gone to the pond to hunt ducks, or at least that’s what I thought.
2 comments:
I know exactly what you are talking about. This season has been more about hanging out than hunting.
That is a perfect example of what seems to happen to every young person taken out. They connect to the wonder that they are part of...Phil
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