I needed a pair of waders. It was that simple. The water was so cold it made me feel like I had been digging in the ice-cold beer cooler at a weekend barbecue for more than five minutes with my feet (gross, I know, but follow me here), only I didn’t come away with a frothy beverage—just cold feet.
Here's a photo of me doing my best, apparently, to prevent the spread of invasive species. You see, the non-profit conservation group Wildlife Forever (WF) has launched a campaign encouraging duck hunters to wash their dogs, lest our furry mutts spread invasive aquatic species such as the dreaded zebra mussel.
For every strap filled with diving ducks, the author returns home empty-handed and broken three times over, yet he doggedly does it again and again. Is he insane? You decide.
This month presents opportunities for a bowhunter or early-season muzzleloader hunter—if you don’t mess up first. Here’s how to score before the rut arrives.
The miles between two pals are nothing when the halfway point is the duck-loaded Chesapeake Bay. A weekend retreat to this storied mecca of all things fowl was just what they needed to collect new yarns to spin in the offseason.