So 3 minutes later Cody (my 10 year old) and I were in the truck and headed to the blind. We flushed about 18 widgeon out of the hole when we pulled up, so we hustled to get our crap ready. Before I could even get situated or tell him to load his gun he says "Dad, here they come!". He jammed 3- 20 gauge, 2 3/4 #6's in and shouldered the gun. I could tell he was aiming at the lead bird which was borderline past his shooting lane, I told him to take the one in the middle - floating at 20 yards out, 10 yards up, with gear down. BOOM! First shot, widgeon hits the water. We hadn't been there 5 minutes and he killed his first duck.
About 30 minutes later we spot a pair, they cut down and land so quick that he didn't have time to pull the trigger. I tell him to wax one off the water, BOOM, duck number 2. A little later he has another pair swing by, at this point he's getting a little cocky, and he whiffs clean twice holding off on the third shot as they were out of range by then. After having time to text kill shots to practically every he's ever known another group of maybe 8 give us a look. They make two full passes around us before committing to drop their gear. He picks one out and bust a wing, duck #3. We heard honkers flying by at one point and he tells me his 20 could do the job, they never came by close enough to prove it. We spent the last 30 minutes watching the sun set with no other ducks come by to check us out.
Needless to say, he now thinks he is a young Tom Knapp with that second hand Winchester pump against his shoulder. He didn't want me to even help clean the birds last night, and was eager to clean the shotty once I got home from work today.
I think I've created a monster.

