duck_jan02hunt

When Buck arrived, we started drinking heavily. The three of us started horsing around on a huge log that had come ashore next to the campsite. I walked out to the very end of the log and was jumping up and down to see if I could move it. It moved only slightly when Joe decided he'd come help me. As he ran down the log I could tell right away he was moving way too fast to stop. I was at the end of the log with nowhere to go but the bayou. I quickly got down and straddled the log just as Joe reached me. He couldn't stop and fell over my shoulder into the water. It was definitely a spectacle.

We built a large fire so Joe could dry out his clothes. We finally made it to bed around 8 p.m. but not before spending a couple of hours laughing over Joe's escapade. Ask Joe how cold the water was.

Saturday morning we awoke and found the mud boat nearly submerged. Buck bailed the boat out while Joe checked the battery, gas tank, engine oil & transmission oil. The transmission had taken on water so Joe changed the fluid. These guys outta be NASCAR pit crew members. It was classic Hunter S. Thompson "When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro." They had the mud boat running in no time.

Joe dropped me off in the back where I hunted alone while Joe and Buck hunted the regular blind. It was a bluebird kind of day. I only shot one teal. Joe and Buck shot 13 teal. We went back to the camp and while Joe and Buck were cursing Dick for taking his fishing pole and FM radio with him back to town, I suggested they fish and drop me back in the blind to hunt. With no radio to listen to the NFL playoff games and only two fishing poles, they agreed with the plan and dropped me in the regular blind while they fished.

I shot only one teal. They picked me up a few hours later. We went back to the camp. Joe and Buck took a nap while I cleaned the ducks. Later that afternoon, Joe dropped Buck off at a different spot while Joe and I hunted the regular blind. A long anticipated cold front blew through the marsh about an hour before sunset. We had waited for this cold front hoping it would get the ducks flying. The wind shifted instantly from the south to from the north. But we were disappointed - not many ducks flew in our direction.

Joe went to pick Buck up and left me in the blind. It started getting dark and I was appreciative of the extra time in hopes some ducks would come by, but I was concerned they hadn't come to get me yet. Finally Buck shows up in the flatboat and yells to me to get in the boat that we had to go rescue Joe in the mud boat. As I was throwing everything in the boat and trying to figure out how I was going to throw a 150 lb. Golden Retriever in the boat, Joe shows up in the mud boat. Apparently a rope got caught in the propeller of the mud boat. Joe had to get out into the water and reach under the boat to cut it off. In the process, water came over and into his waders. Joe was wet once again. The only highlight was that Buck had shot a Greenhead that afternoon.

We finally made it back to the camp after dark. We built another roaring fire so Joe could dry out again. Buck fixed fried potatoes and a steak for each of us. We ate and went to bed.