Submitted by Vikki Rawe, KNOW Area Coordinator
It was a cold January morning. Still dark. Raining, sleeting and snowing all at the same time. The boat was loaded and we were already on the river. I knew the ride to the blind wouldn’t take long, so I knew that I had to cherish every minute of it. The banks were snow covered, the sky dark blue, the precipitation was hitting my face with a sting. I had that feeling again. A feeling that I had so many times in the past few years. It's when I want time to stand still, I want to be in this moment forever. A bitter-sweet feeling, everything so perfect, but I know it won't last long. I couldn't help but laugh out loud. This is actually me! Me, getting to finally live the adventures that I was born to live! I've waited so long! So patiently! The excitement is sometimes overwhelming. Bobby asked me why I was laughing, I could only answer with a smile. I glanced over at Albert, sitting quietly, his head filled with thoughts of ducks and geese and cooking over the kerosene heaters.
We arrived at the blind and anxiously unloaded the boat. I didn't bring my hip boots with me so I lit the kerosene stoves while Albert and Bobby put the decoys out into the river. They strategically arranged some to the left and others to the right of the blind and left a pitch hole in the middle to coax the birds into shooting range. The duck blind is a comfortable, humble abode with dimensions of approximately 8' wide by 18' long. It has a back door that goes up to the bank where the goose silhouettes are standing as still as soldiers, looking like a real flock in a cornfield. The front door opens onto the river where the duck decoys are arranged. It has a partial roof, only covering the back of the blind while the front of the roof is made of cane and reeds.
The morning light arrived with a rainy gloom, GREAT! Perfect for the ducks to fly low. In no time stories were being stretched to their limits with great exaggeration as we poked our heads out between reeds to watch for birds. We heard ducks over on the other bank, they were on the water. Hopefully they would fly soon. Within minutes we heard a barge bellow up river, the ducks on the other bank did too. They startled and flew, too rangy to shoot. The duck calls from out blind sounded real enough to entice them over our way. Only a few birds in this small flock but two flew close enough to shoot.
The smell of fried duck and eggs soon filled the air as pranksters poked holes in soft drink cans and stuffed gloves with feathers. More ducks would fly over, and more pranks would be pulled. Shots that should have been fired fell silent in the hands of an unsuspecting hunter that turned his back long enough to fall victim to a fellow hunter unloading his gun.
A few ducks and two coots were in their respective piles. A pretty common harvest to the avid duck hunter, but to me they were prized possessions. The colors, the warmth, the detail, so perfect in every way. Thoughts of how to use the feathers, and preserve the brilliant orange webbed feet ran through my mind. To save everything possible to always remind me of this particular adventure. I would clean them and freeze the meat when I get home, set them out for the kids to know them and study them. What a great gift given to me from nature. How fortunate I am to know to utilize what is in the outdoors.
"Them coots, they're the best eating, take care when you clean them not to waste any," Albert and Bobby chimed in together. I learn a lot from every adventure. I didn't know about coots. They're a lot different than a duck or a goose. A coot's feet aren't webbed, they're more of a bird.
Time flies when you're having fun. I didn't want to leave. As we cleaned up and loaded the boat, thoughts of the day raced through my head. Back on the river, that feeling was back. This moment consumed my whole being. I wanted so badly for time to stand still again. What if I couldn't go on another adventure until next week? Could I wait that long?
The cold was all around me, the winter wind in my face, I had to absorb everything. I watched the water, the sky, the river banks. Then I saw them, a flock of geese on the bank. We didn't get any geese yet, only the ducks and coots. "Can't we pull in an shoot 'em?" I started to yell over the sound of the motor. "Shhhhhhhh!" Bobby and Albert saw the geese too. We shut off the engine and drifted down to them. "Fly! Fly! Fly!" They were suddenly in the air, so graceful. Before I could catch my breath we had four, a nice harvest. What excitement! All so fast and on our way again up the river. The wind and cold again, now snowing pretty heavy.
I cleaned the birds, took a shower and went to bed exhausted. The next morning my day dreaming was interrupted by the telephone. It was Albert. "Did you clean them birds yet?" he inquired. "Yea, I did 'em last night." "Them coots, did you clean them too?" "Yea, I froze them separate since you said they were so much better." "Well, I should have told you last night." "Told me what?" "People do eat them, they say they do, I never have." "Wait a minute," I interrupted, "are you telling me they're no good?" "Well, no, people do eat them. I just never met anyone that has!"
Needless to say, this time the joke was on me, or maybe not. I still have the coots in the freezer. I think I'll have Albert and Bobby over for a special dinner.
