A teal of a deal.

We had winters then. Have them now, too, of course. Only we were doing crazier things. Must be getting old. Or something.

Ice and ducks don't normally mix, but in our parts of the river, there's more than one that winters. It was close to Christmas. Doesn't matter. We're not talking shopping days here.

I had done my shopping. Gotten me a pair of Korean waders. Not neoprene, the other kind. The cold kind. Traditional pneumonia, Mark I. I was crazy, then. I know it, I don't just think it.

Ice breaker

My buddy, Bud, is ahead of me. Breaking ice, literally. I'm not kidding. I push the ice floes aside as they drift back into his wake. The bottom slopes down, we have a ways to go. So does the sun, it's bloody near pitch dark. The bottom levels out, I calm down.

On we go. It's Bud's hunt, his idea. Been here before, good flyby nearby. I'm not impressed and a little grumpy this early in the day. My gun is heavy in my left hand. My knees are talking back at me.

Even though I have taken precautions. Thick scarves tied around them for insulation. Fat chance. I got skinny knees. They are not happy. They are ready to reject me. We make a secret pact. Don't ask, I promised not to tell. A secret, get it?

We are there. There is here, a little island. Bull, a sandbar with tall fuzz all over it and a dead tree stick sort of a thing. Great. My mood is not good. Where are the duckies? If I am to ever shoot one before I die, it better happen quick.

Relativity sucks

I fear for time. I feel close to Einstein. Time may indeed be relative. I sure am more than relatively cold, and it ain't been that long. Relatively speaking. Go figure. Figure warm, I'll join you. Soon as I find deese, dem and dose bloody ducks.

Hunting is a lot about waiting. In fact, it is an art. Waiting, is. Sometimes it is just cold. The sun comes up, but it is not helping. It comes up some more. This does not bode well for a flyby. All the books say that sun is bad. Duckies no fly in sunshine. Well, all is relative. We've been through that already. I take a look around. Not for duckies. Just to see what the heck is happenin'. The answer is: Not much.

Surveying our domain

Where are the others? We saw lots of cars along the river road. I look some more, but not a hint. Not a gleam from a long gun. Hm. Bud is stirring. Speaks lowly that it's quiet this morning, no action. He's actually smiling. As well he might. Snug as can be in his neoprene waders. I have to be careful moving about and not lower my arms too much or I'll get my elbows wet. We are in that deep.

Yonder something stirs

I catch something out of the corner of my eye. Movement. Hey that's out over the river mouth. Coming this way. And it ain't no seagull. This here thing is a true, died-in-the-wool duckie. A small one. And a fast one. A teal to be sure.

Now the river comes alive. Someone somewhere tries a long shot. Some other trigger happy dude lets loose. Way too far off, but the river is narrower up our way. Mr. Teal is running the gamut. Everyone gets into the act. This is the action happening today. No more, no less. Heck, you can't find anything much smaller than a teal. So here goes, for broke or glory.

Getting into the swing of things...

Bud is starting his swing. I am actually rooting for the duck by now. Besides, it's still way too far in my book. Which it is, really, when you think of it. Besides, I just can't be bothered cleaning my gun for nothing. Bud lets loose to no avail. Fascinated I watch the rest of the show.

Smoke on the water

We done got us a major calamity out here this morning. A war zone has nothing on us in the noise department! A duck is finally happenin' and the duck busters are giving it all they got. And they got a lot to give, I kid you not. Shot is cheap. These dudes must have burned up about a weeks worth from Winchester. Man, we got real smoke on the water here this morning and it ain't purple, either.

A duck out of hell

And Mr. Teal is going like a true duck out of hell. Some of the shots must be coming close, 'cause he is making little lifts and duckie ducks in the air. Forced by the draft from the near misses, I figure. A wild ride for the unwary.

Mr. Teal is making it, though. He's covered a long stretch now, and getting closer. Bud and I are the last in line. Past us is duck heaven. He is seen the light, allright. Hail to the acolyte! Some hail. Then the teal is gone. Unhurt, hitting Mach 2 on Bud's 12 gauge afterburners. Hot diggity! Well done!

Aftermath

The madness dies down and the river comes back to normal. That means cold to you and me. I look around. Nothing. Nothing moves. It's eerie. I can't believe it. Where are the dudes? I startle myself with a sudden realization; I don't think I ever actually saw anyone. What the heck, there must have been tons of dudes to make all that racket? But, no. I saw no-one. The excitement is history. Another one for the bullshit sessions at the range or fireside.

The tide is coming in, too. Time to get the heck out of here 'fore we drown for real. Just about happened to Bud one time. Got careless, didn't mind the time. Tide crept in, couldn't remember the ridges he must follow to get back on shore.

Poking around

He had a brain wave and used his gun for a probe. Held it by the barrel. Poke, poke. Prod & probe. Necessity is the mother of invention. Only he forgot he still had a round in the chamber. Some inventions can rub you out, man! Lucky him, he lived to tell about it. So did I.

It was a teal of a deal, but I never went back.
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