Wandering Aimlessly

 

Duck Wars

by Phil Burkhouse

 

I never believed it would happen to me, but as I progress through the journey of life the time has come that I now understand more clearly the views expressed to me by some of the elder hunters I crossed paths with during my younger years.

I vividly remember sitting on the banks of a beaver dam with a beautiful drake wood duck lying on the shore next to me.  Also next to me was an elderly gentlemen who had asked if he could go with me on a duck hunt to some remote beaver dams.  Some woodies had flown in and landed in front of the old hunter, but he never fired.  When they departed in my direction the male woodie had not been so fortunate.

I asked the elderly hunter why he hadn’t shot, and he replied he had lost his desire to kill things but still enjoyed getting out and being in the action.  I hefted my woodie as we hiked out and I thought, ‘That will never happen to me.’

 

 

 

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