Hunting is one way to inject yourself back into nature. As I mentioned in Part One of this post, it is the restoration of the natural order of things. I have become increasingly enamored with nature and the outdoors. Roughing it. Learning to live off the land. This is a facinating journey for me that has only just begun.
I went hunting for the second time this past weekend. Thanks to technology, I was able to tweet while I was in the marsh. Some of you got the flavor of what this post is about while in real time that day. In case you missed it, I have been dying to write this post for you.
The first time I went hunting was in the middle of dove season. I, along with two friends from work, found some public land in Labelle, Texas to try our luck on. We started out early and just roamed through this pasture looking for dove. We were all ametuers. The first and only encounter with doves, we basically were standing around with our fingers in our noses. One buddy was handling his dog and eating a granola bar. I was holding his shot gun in one hand and mine in the other. Suddenly, we heard the other buddy shout, “Hey… Hey! HEY! There’s dove!” None of us moved. By the time we realized that we were missing an opportunity, the dove were well out of range. Mocking us, I’m certain. While we saw no more dove that day, it turned out to be a lovely day for a hike (because that’s pretty much all we did). It was still an awesome experience. The day was beautiful. Cool and breezy. A treat for October in Texas.
About a month later, I was invited to go on a duck and goose hunt. I had plans to go the following week, but the sooner I could get back into the fields, the better. It was a guided hunt where professional hunters take you out with them for a fee. This is truly the best way for new hunters to get started. It is safe, the guides are knowledgable, and you get to experience the process while minimizing the rookie mistakes.
We woke up very early that morning to go meet the guides. 3 am to be exact. My buddy and I drove through the dark, winding, country roads to get to the lodge. There we met our guides for the day, Bobby and Greg. I’m not the best with names, so it was a good thing that they had names from The Brady Bunch.
The guides drove us out to the soft, wet low-lying area in what they called a “marsh buggy” whick rolls on tracks much the same way a tank does. The ride was only a short distance, but the vehicle was slow, making it seem as though we were travelling much farther than we were. The pitch black morning allowed for a stunning view of the Texas sky. The cool breeze began to relax me. 
We get out to the spot and the guides go to work. They set up all the decoys and and get the blind ready. The duck blind is an enclosure that is buried into the ground and is covered with grass and other foliage to provide a maximun concealment. The conversation is good between us and the guides. It turns out that my buddy and one of the guide both were doing contract work in Kuwait in 2005 and had many stories to share.
At first light, we go into the blind. It began to warm up a little and we took off our extra covering and began to look toward the sky. It was very quiet and still. We continued to chat until Bobby says, “Ducks! 1 o’clock.” We look up and see 8-10 ducks heading toward the blind. Bobby and Greg begin to utilize their duck calls, mimicking the sounds of several species of ducks.
The birds tease us momentarily, first turning away from the calls and then back towards the blind. The anticipation was intense. We stood at ready with our hands on our shotguns, trying not to move until the time was just right. The birds began to fly closer to the decoys. They begin to descend, convinced they had found a nice place to roost. Bobby says,
“Go! Go! Go!”
We spring out of the blind like four “Jacks in the Box”. We each take aim and begin to fire. I took down the first bird of the day as the other ducks scatter. The law says that we are only allowed to have three shells in the gun at a time and those were exhausted quickly.
Bobby leaves the blind to retrieve my duck from the marsh. He brings it back to me and tells me that it is a spoonbill. I examine the bird and was hesitant at first. This was my first kill. Ever. Fortunately, my perspective is right about hunting. I understood that what I had done was natural and had been done since the beginning of time.
We had several other opportunities over the course of five hours, but only harvested two more more birds. They birds were not coming in the way the guides had anticipated. Of the opportunities that did present themselves, we missed more than our share. I took a shooting lesson previously, but it was apparent that my buddy and I needed a little more practice.
It became apparent that no more ducks were going to come our way. We began to pack up and disassemble the blind. The ride back was quiet and peaceful. Even though the harvest was small, I enjoyed being a part of the natural cycle immensely.
Back at home the next day, I prepared the meat to serve as part of our dinner that night. Bae and I worked together in the kitchen preparing duck kabobs. As we skewered the meat, vegetables, pineapples, and bacon, my daughter asked if I would take her hunting with me one day. Little did she know, that has always been the plan. I don’t want the tradition of hunting in our family to die with my grandfather. I have always intended to pass this along to my kids. It’s another way as a father to spend time with them and teach them about God, respect for nature, and the natural order of things.
Mr. Man
