Big Slough Afternoon...

After a week where I played about all the tuba, guitar and banjo I could stand, washed the windows, and dusted the cobwebs from the room corners and ceiling fans I needed to go somewhere today. I picked a duck hunting trip to the Big Slough Wilderness Area. I saw one duck. It was a wood duck hen. I shot it. Cathy will make a delicious dinner out of it for us.  

Hunting and guns can be kind of controversial. Believe me, the time I have spent hunting, which was really mostly just sitting in the woods is not even proportional to the time I have spent killing. I have enjoyed eating what I killed, all small game and the times spent just sitting were good also. There were some sitting times where I was stuck, lost or broke down way out in the woods somewhere and we won't go into all that here.  

Duck hunting is something I did with my dad, learned from my dad, the tactics I used today were the same as he would have used and it was in a place he had showed me. I guess you can say while you could not impress anyone with the taking of one duck I thought it was pretty good since it's the first duck I have shot at in about three years and it does bring back some old, good memories.  

You can see from these photos me and duck hunting go way back. I remember listening to my dad and his brothers tell stories of places they went to hunt with names like Wild Hog Bend, Ice Box Slough and Wildcat. I could have carried the shot gun in this photo below on the hunt today. It's my dad's old Model 12, one of the best duck guns ever manufactured. I have hunted with it quite a bit in years past but it's pretty worn and the action is what I would call "loose." Instead I carried the shotgun my dad gave me for Christmas when I was about 16 years old. It's nothing special, just an all purpose general use hunting shotgun. I have never had reason to purchase another.

One thing I hate about hunting today is as with most things concerning guns it has become militarized. Lots of camo on clothes, boats, cars and survival type equipment that would not be out of place in a commando unit. Note in the photo my dad's flannel shirt and kaki duck pants. That's how he dressed to hunt his whole life. No camo for him. Maybe it was too uniform looking. He had landed on Normandy Beach in WW2 and survived the hedgerow campaigns that followed. He would not ride in a jeep. He told me, "never join the army."     

So I'll remember my dad with a duck hunt now and then. Hopefully that tradition will carry on. I have carried it on with my son. 

A duck tastes good around Christmas and in the photo with my brother Glenn you can note the Christmas cards on the wall behind us. 

I did wear a camo shirt and game vest today but the white beard shinning through the woods probably negated any effect they had on the ducks.