The old man was startled awake by the loud buzzing of an alarm clock. It was 6:30 am and it took him a moment to remember where he was. He had spent the night over at Jim’s house. Jim’s wife, Dottie, insisted that the old man take their offer of the spare bedroom. The offer was extended after the two men stayed up half the night sharing old hunting stories and a few glasses of good bourbon.
Down the hall, Tom could smell the aroma of bacon sizzling in a skillet and even thought he could detect the hint of fresh bread. He peered into the kitchen to see Jim wrapping his arms around his wife, Dottie, while she stood over the stove preparing the mornings meal.
Tom cleared his throat, “If I’m interrupting something I can go back down the hall and give you two a few minutes.”
Jim, letting go of his wife, turned to Tom, “Heck no, come on in. Coffee?”
“Yes, please. Black.”
The three of them sat down together to a meal of bacon, eggs, and some of the best homemade sourdough bread the old man had ever tasted in his life. He ate 3 pieces and would have had more, but was too embarrassed to ask Mrs. Dottie to refill his plate.
After breakfast, Jim and the old man went out on the porch. The air cut like a knife and Tom wondered if he had the right clothes for this kind of weather.
“You’re not in the carolina’s anymore now, eh Tom?” Jim grinned.
Tom tucked his old pipe back in his shirt pocket. He liked a good pipe of tobacco after a meal like the one Mrs. Dottie had just served but the cold took the interest right out of him.
The old man looked over at Jim, “Think the water will still be open?”
“In this? Oh yea, those ducks know how to keep water open in these temperatures.”
The old man noticed a pick-up pulling into the driveway. He recognized the truck, it was Dan, Jim’s friend from yesterday’s hunt.
“I told Dan about the ducks we saw last night. He’s going to hunt with us this morning.”
Tom nodded and watched as Dan stepped out the truck and came onto the porch.
“Hey Jim. Tom, last time I saw you, you were trying to outrun your dog across that field.” Dan laughed and offered a handshake to the old man.
Tom smiled, “Yea, sorry I forgot to say good bye. I was kind of pre-occupied. Did you or your dog get hit?”
“No. I think you and Jake took the full brunt of that one. I can’t tell you enough how much we appreciate that.”, Dan said chuckling again.
Jim raised his nose and began sniffing the air around Tom, “Hmm, a little better than yesterday, but I still think you need to sit on the down-wind side of me.” Jim and Dan laughed again.
Tom, attempting to change the subject, spoke up, “Would it be alright if we brought Jake along?”
“You better, I’m too old to chase ducks across the cattails anymore and Dan’s setter isn’t a fan of cold water or picking up dead birds.”
Tom was satisfied with that and the three men set off to gathering their gear into Jim’s vehicle.
An hour later, they were parked near the hole that Tom and Jim had scouted the evening before. Dan volunteered to carry the decoys and the other two didn’t fight him on it.
When they were 20 yards from the water’s edge, Tom looked up to see a pair of mallards getting up off the water. The hen was making the fast quacking cadence to signify her disapproval of their presence in her spot.
Dan set off into the edge of the water with decoys while Jim showed Tom where they planned to set up for the hunt. They took special care not to mat down the grass and cattails around their hideout. Jim insisted that it would need to look as natural as possible. Tom found a good spot for he and Jake down-wind of the other two, of course, and set his stuff down. Jake looked out over the water anxiously as Tom and Dan finished setting out the last of the plastic duck look-a-likes.
With decoys set, the 3 men found their hides and settled in. The old man could feel the sweat from his exertion starting to cool against his skin. The thick cattails did a good job of cutting the harsh winter wind blowing over their heads and he was thankful for it.
The old man looked over at his 4-legged friend. The dog was tucked in well and the old man was sure he would be well hidden from any wary birds flying over head. He admired the regal appearance of his pal. The small layer of fat that use to carry throughout the body of his shorthair was all but gone. He was no longer a creature of comfort, spending time under the foot of the old man’s desk, but out in the water and fields where he belonged. The two of them had only been up here for a few short weeks, but the dog already had the look of a well-seasoned athlete in his prime. The old man noted that Jake was even starting to do more than look the part, he WAS a bird dog now.
From the other end of the blind, Tom could hear Dan whisper and with that his eyes drew towards the sky in front of them. A few hundred yards out, a dozen black silhouettes were working towards their small water hole. The ducks set their wings and began to slow into a looping turn off to their left side. The old man grabbed his call and blew the long, raspy notes of a hen mallard beckoning her companions down. The ducks pitched their wings and made their way over the spread, still pretty high up.
“Sit still ya’ll.”, Tom said with hushed tones. He realized this wasn’t necessary as Jim and Dan were veteran duck hunters themselves but it came out as more of an excited nervousness deep inside him.
The ducks were back out in front of them now heading away. Tom pressed the call to his lips again, this time he let out a more excited cadence of quacks to draw them back in. It worked. The ducks pitched into the wind again and began setting up for that last long moment that every duck hunter lives for. At one hundred yards the group locked their wings and began losing altitude. At sixty yards Tom watched as ducks pressed hard into the blowing gusts to slow their bodies down for the landing. They were at 30 yards when all their legs began to be pressed down into the air, possibly to create a little more drag, or maybe it was to soften the landing on the water that would soon be beneath them.
When the first duck hit the water Jim let out with a solid, “Kill them, now.”
The men raised their weapons simultaneously and Tom’s gun found the first duck in his area of shooting. He pulled the trigger just as the duck had tried to redirect his momentum, sitting suspended in the air for that one brief, fatal moment. He heard other shots ring out and moved his eyes to find another bird still in range. There were plenty to choose from. He quickly found a drake trying to slip out across the water across his side. The old man threw the bead of his shotgun out in front of the bird and pulled the trigger, sending the duck into a cartwheeling splash at the waters edge.
Tom watched as the last few ducks retreated out of the hole and into the prairie expanse. In front of him were seven dead mallards.
“Jake!”, Tom said, releasing the very eager dog to retrieve the downed birds.
“Did we cripple any?” Jim asked, looking back and forth between Dan and Tom.
“My two are dead right here.”, replied Tom.
“Nope, I can see both of mine right over there.” Dan said.
“Good, Dan let’s help the dog out and grab those two right there. I think I see another group out in the distance that should be working our way soon.”
The Fall Experience 