Waterfowler's Morning

          For several minutes we sat in brushy overgrowth, listening to ducks calling in the distance and the whistling of wings as waterfowl passed overhead. With the crescent moon still in the eastern sky, the horizon below grew brighter. Soon Andy Webster, Aaron Green, John Lawrence and I were able to see myriad waterfowl passing overhead. Legal shooting time, however, was yet minutes away.

            When our watches read 7: 10 a.m. John and Aaron touched off the morning’s initial burst and three ducks fell from the sky.

John had placed us in a waterfowler’s dream. Our location couldn’t have been better. We were hunkered down on a narrow spit of land with open water to the north and south. The ducks, consisting mainly of northern shovelers and a few mallards, approached from all directions.

            As a small flock of geese came into view, John began calling. Moments later the flock flew off in disarray, minus one goose. 

           Despite what turned out to be a blue bird morning, the action never slowed down. As the sun climbed above the horizon, many made aerial maneuvers, tilting and veering as the shotguns discharged. Others seemed to make a sudden upward surge in an attempting to gain altitude. It was a tactic that worked for some, but not all.

          All too soon it was time to go. By then the ducks were no longer silhouettes. The sun was high enough to detail entire flocks of waterfowl, their breast feathers shining white against the blue morning sky.