When the editors of Ultimate Outdoors magazine contacted me asking if I had a duck hunting story for their upcoming waterfowl edition, I explained that the Ozark Mountains of southern Missouri where I live is not typically known as a waterfowl hunting Mecca. Plenty of good turkey and deer hunting, even some wild boar hunting in some areas but overall not much duck hunting, at least in my neck of the woods. Since most of my stories are about my always humorous and often slightly oddball family, I reassured them that I would ask around for some funny duck hunting stories and was fairly confident that I would be successful.
When I asked my Mother she began explaining the culinary aspects of the subject, you know, the do’s and don'ts of cooking wild bird. For my literary requirements this was not helpful, but I believe I now know more about wild game cooking than possibly even Emeril himself. I respectfully thanked her for her culinary knowledge but explained this was not exactly what I was looking for.
When I asked my Uncle, he looked at me like I had two heads and began explaining the geographical limitations of the Ozark Mountain terrain and why duck hunting was a somewhat obscure sport for this region. He explained that if you were looking for some really good duck hunting one would have to visit our fellow Missouri brethren in the northern part of the state. These things I already knew, but he was on a roll and I didn’t have the heart to stop him.
My wife related to me a story from her youth about her father’s yearly treks to northern Missouri. In her vivid memories of childhood she knew nothing about hunting but remembers fondly playing with the cold dead duck corpses in the garage. She and her three siblings would cuddle them and dress them like dolls, which is funny in a creepy slightly Tim Burton-ish kind of way. I considered this angle briefly but decided against it, figuring it would turn out more like "Twilight Zone" than "Comedy Zone."
My two teenage sons, the video game players, offered their expertise on the video game "Duck Hunt" in which you shoot virtual ducks on the rise. According to my sons, if you miss a goofy dog runs out and begins snickering and laughing at you for your apparent lack of shooting aptitude. The conversation then degenerated into one boys discovery of a pirated version available on the internet in which one can blow the pretentious canine’s head off. One game even reverses the roles of the dog and ducks in which you shoot flying dogs and the duck is the one laughing. This was funny, but not realistic and again not exactly what I was looking for. Keep searching Chuck, there just has to be something to write about.
After a few days of beating my head against the proverbially brick wall I was starting to feel somewhat bewildered and in need of guidance, not unlike the Matt Damon character in the movie Good Will Hunting. Like Will, I found inspiration, but in the most bizarre of places, my job as a financial advisor. Now one would think the last place someone would get inspiration for an outdoor story would be at a bank, but that’s exactly what happened. Now don’t get me wrong I am not a genius like Mr. Hunting and the bank is not Harvard University, but my co-workers are fun and we do share a lot of laughs.
While pouring myself a cup of coffee and preparing for another day of work, I began explaining my dilemma to my fellow co-workers sitting near my desk. Immediately I began receiving "ideas" from all directions.
"I hit a duck in my van going 55 mph with my lights flashing and the horn blowing" retorted one co-worker, obviously quoting comedian Ron White and his routine that pokes fun at hunting and the on going quest for stealth.
"My grandma has a pet duck named Quackers" said another co-worker listening to our conversation from the other side of the cubical.
After suffering a reverberating avalanche of "Aflac’s" from all directions and an exhausting lengthy discussion about the popularity of the aforementioned famous duck who possesses a hideously annoying Gilbert Godfry like quack, I was about to give up and admit defeat. Then out of the blue came the solution to my quandary from my friend Heidi. "Why not write a story about hunting for a duck hunting story!"
I could almost feel the metaphorical light bulb going on over my head as I mulled over this odd but workable idea. I have written numerous stories about many things, but a story about not having a story? Could it be done? Could I pull it off? Then I thought, if Seinfeld could do it, so could I! Sure why not! It’s so crazy it just might work!
So, there you have it my friends. My duck hunting story, respectfully submitted for your enjoyment by your friendly Ozark Mountain Hillbilly writer who doesn’t know his quack from a hole in the ground about duck hunting
