Successful Hunters--and Me
There are guys who are always shooting big bucks and limits of birds. Then there's me.
July 17, 2009
I'll never shoot as many limits or as many big bucks as those whom I consider excellent hunters. Thing is, the disparity between them and me is so great that it can't possibly be my fault. No, there must be some other impenetrable force at work stifling my efforts. Consider my typical November Saturday:
4:30 a.m. Arrive at boat launch for morning duck hunt.
5:30 a.m. Place last decoy. Realize right boot is leaking.
6:15 a.m. Remove right foot from leaky boot. Remove wool cap. Place foot inside cap.
7:15 a.m. Coffee hits bladder. Climb out of blind. Flair several mallards.
7:45 a.m. Wrestle dog for last sandwich. Dog clamps down on sandwich and drags teeth along fingers. Sandwich gives him horrid indigestion.
8:00 a.m. Receive photo text message of managing editor Jeff Johnston posing with massive whitetail.
8:15 a.m. Swan flies over. Dog breaks.
8:35 a.m. Drag dog back inside blind. Wool cap is sopping wet, still on foot.
9:00 a.m. Notice three decoys are touching.
9:10 a.m. Decide to adjust decoy spread. Flip canoe.
9:30 a.m. Fire first and only shot of day at spoonbill. Miss.
9:45 a.m. Realize cell phone was in canoe.
10:30 a.m. Pick up decoys.
So, you see, most if not all of my troubles are simply beyond my control. Maybe you can relate. There will always be guys with better dogs than us, who have bigger bucks on the wall, too. Bet they even had better looking prom dates. Yet there's one unquantifiable aspect where they can't lick us—enjoyment afield. We may not be the best at our sport, but darn it, you'll be hard-pressed to find anyone who further relishes every single opportunity he or she has to spend a day in the outdoors.