Waterfowling, The Addiction

[ducks~n~bucks]

Waterfowling is not just a sport, it is an addiction. It pumps through our veins. We all live it, breath it, eat it and sleep it. It's like we can't live without it. Whether you are the type to try to kill as many ducks as possible so you can brag about it, or the type who just likes to get into the marsh, you are the same as every other waterfowler. Some hunt over decoys, loving to just sit in the blind for hours, loving the fact that thaey tricked a duck into thinking a bunch of plastic was a flock of other ducks, and that there call was a duck. Some like pass shooting, taking pride in the fact they got a flock of ducks so well calculated and watched that they knew when and where to setup to be right where the ducks will fly over. Some take to jumpshooting, cherishing that the were able to sneak up on an elusive group of ducks, and suprise them. Others like sculling, the fact they were able to use the oar in that oh so skillful manner to sneak up on a raft of divers. And the list could go on. Some of us come from a long line of waterfowlers, dating back to the time of market hunting. Others are first generation, and had no family that hunted watefowl before them.

We all love seeing our trusty old duck dog make that first retrieve, end cherish every on down to the last. When the time comes you reliable hunting partner, who was there when all your other buddies couldn't make the hunt, can no long hunt with you, it kills you inside. You do all you can to make his last years his best years. Then, when he finally passes on, you remember all those hunts with just you and him. The first honker he retrieved, how he reverted to turning backwards and dragging it. The banded mallard that got caught in the fork of a tree branch, and when you shot the branch off your dog was there to catch the duck before it hit the ground. All the times it sat there, curiously watching as you pooped.

Remember all of te times you have hunted with friends and family. All of the new hunting buddies you made. All the girlfriends you lost because you loved to hunt more than you loved them. The hours you spend talking to your buddies when birds aren't flying. Those days where you didn't see a single bird but still considered it a good hunt, because of the memories you made. Like when you shot that teal flying full speed straight at you, and it belted your buddy in the chest and knocked the wind out of him. Or that time when you fell in the icey water, and finished the hunt in your underwear. Or how you got that nickname your hunting buddies all call you.

We all experiance the dreadful off season. 7 months of boredom. Practicing calling, painting decoys, shooting skeet, organizing decoy sheds, etc. Tose summer projects to occupy our time. And then when you finally lose it and set up a blind in your back yard and throw decoys in the pool just to simulate that feeling. Waterfowling is not just a sport, it is an addiction.

[assateague]

I wish I could say that I have it as bad as I had it even two years ago. I blame it squarely on the weather. Walking out the door at 3 in the morning in late December, and being met with 50 degree temps just takes a lot of the desire out of me. I still enjoy it, but I have (and pretty much always have) hunted alone, at least 95% of the time. Now that the kids are getting old enough to enjoy it and look forward to it, I'm trying to stay positive- warm temps make it easier to keep kids in the blind happy! That's my silver lining, there. I may enjoy walking out into a snowstorm, but they really don't, and ultimately that's what it's about, at least for me- giving the kids the gift of a lifelong hobby, and some memories and traditions to enjoy after I'm gone.

[aunt betty]

Im addicted.

[3legged_lab]

Not too addicted, you'd rather have lettuce.

[aunt betty]

Not too addicted, you'd rather have lettuce.

They grow rice where I hunt and you know it.

I have to pray for water just like you do. Two of the six wma's I hunt pump water.
Those two are ok but the ones that don't pump are epic. (If they get water)

Next time you hear me crybaby about water...remind me of this.