The duck thing...
It was pretty strange working the Ducks Unlimited banquet in Henderson the other night. I have always loved duck hunting, done it since a I was a child. I guess I missed the boat some where when it comes to fund raising banquets like this. I was a DU member at one time, I give my money to help people now a days.
There were about 5 kegs of beer, I served one all by myself. There was a bunch of stuff to be won by raffle and there was a couple of ropey looking old gals in mini skirts with too dark tans for Febuary working the floor selling packs of tickets. They were working the old boys for all they had. Lots of duck related paintings for sale. I have always thought I could recognize a good painting, I didn't see any, at least any that would have looked good in my Mediterranean/New Orleans/Indo Bulgarian motif complete with pounding soundtrack living quarters. Anyway the good old boys had a time and I guess I did also, got points for school and a free catfish shrimp dinner. Did not drink any beer even though I poured gallons of it.
Any way as I drove home I thought about places I had hunted, old river bottoms, places where the high dollar shotguns I had seen for sale would be unusual, places with names like Big Island and wild hog bend. Then there was ice box slough, where an old 50s era coke box rose like a monolith to American culture in the fog of early morning boat rides, caught in our spotlight, best that could be had at the time, you can buy better ones for $20 now, this one was on permant loan to Uncle Bill by the U.S. Navy, a spot which had shined and searched deep waters off Australia. That old coke box might have missed it's real spotlight curtain call, a big sale on ebay and I bet it is is gone now I would guess, washed away, rusted down, I'll never go there again to know, but today I saw a right modern TV on the side of an East Texas country road. If we could take it down the river and mark a slough a bend an island the plastic and glass would last way past me. Don't let anybody BS you, modern junk is better.
I thought about the Wood Duck, the fantastic colors of the male, the drab female, we were doing good if we walked an old slough and jumped up a couple of them and shot them. They are quick to spook and fly fast, hard to hit through the trees and thick brush. Not like setting up dekes on the lake, getting all covered up in tank netting "from some East Bloc country that no longer needs it," thanks James, and fooling them in. The woody only flies at first and last light usually before and after shooting time. The Indians, not the Bulgarian ones thought the woody was sacred, seems like I saw an old Indian clay pipe with a woody carved on it, he nested in the hollow trees of the land, swam in the water, flew in the air, comfortable in all three places of the Earth. Can you think of any other creatures like that?
Guess that is something to strive for, comfortable every where. I still got that old US Navy spotlight we used so long ago, just in case I ever need it while I'm trying.
There were about 5 kegs of beer, I served one all by myself. There was a bunch of stuff to be won by raffle and there was a couple of ropey looking old gals in mini skirts with too dark tans for Febuary working the floor selling packs of tickets. They were working the old boys for all they had. Lots of duck related paintings for sale. I have always thought I could recognize a good painting, I didn't see any, at least any that would have looked good in my Mediterranean/New Orleans/Indo Bulgarian motif complete with pounding soundtrack living quarters. Anyway the good old boys had a time and I guess I did also, got points for school and a free catfish shrimp dinner. Did not drink any beer even though I poured gallons of it.
Any way as I drove home I thought about places I had hunted, old river bottoms, places where the high dollar shotguns I had seen for sale would be unusual, places with names like Big Island and wild hog bend. Then there was ice box slough, where an old 50s era coke box rose like a monolith to American culture in the fog of early morning boat rides, caught in our spotlight, best that could be had at the time, you can buy better ones for $20 now, this one was on permant loan to Uncle Bill by the U.S. Navy, a spot which had shined and searched deep waters off Australia. That old coke box might have missed it's real spotlight curtain call, a big sale on ebay and I bet it is is gone now I would guess, washed away, rusted down, I'll never go there again to know, but today I saw a right modern TV on the side of an East Texas country road. If we could take it down the river and mark a slough a bend an island the plastic and glass would last way past me. Don't let anybody BS you, modern junk is better.
I thought about the Wood Duck, the fantastic colors of the male, the drab female, we were doing good if we walked an old slough and jumped up a couple of them and shot them. They are quick to spook and fly fast, hard to hit through the trees and thick brush. Not like setting up dekes on the lake, getting all covered up in tank netting "from some East Bloc country that no longer needs it," thanks James, and fooling them in. The woody only flies at first and last light usually before and after shooting time. The Indians, not the Bulgarian ones thought the woody was sacred, seems like I saw an old Indian clay pipe with a woody carved on it, he nested in the hollow trees of the land, swam in the water, flew in the air, comfortable in all three places of the Earth. Can you think of any other creatures like that?
Guess that is something to strive for, comfortable every where. I still got that old US Navy spotlight we used so long ago, just in case I ever need it while I'm trying.
Labels: catfish
posted by Carl at 9:12 PM
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