True Men Duck Hunt

True men duck hunt, why do I say this? Here are my reasons. Of all the hunters I have encountered over my years, none are more loyal and dedicated to the game that they hunt. Yes there are men who duck hunt that are not true to the sport, they only think of how many they kill and not why they are there, they are not true men A true man knows why he hunts waterfowl. For a true man, ducks are in his blood, they are his life, the very breath he breathes is for that of the duck. It is a part of his soul, his very reason for being.

He will do all that he can to protect that which he loves. He will pass the tradition down to his kin or his neighbors and their kin. He will spend countless hours and days on end getting ready for a season that only lasts a few months. True men respect other hunters out in the field and at home, they don’t brag about how many they got or which gun is best or how many decoys they have. True men ask how your hunt went and praise you good fortune or show there regrets if not. They don’t care how big it was or how many times did you shoot. They care that you had fun and maybe learned something along the way. True men know the meaning of waterfowling. They know it’s history. They will give it a future. They know it is more than just having fun with friends, they know it is more than they can ever possibly explain. There is something about duck hunting that stirs my soul, from watching the sunrise on the Mississippi River, to watching my dog retrieve a Mallard drake. There is a feeling you get deep inside that never goes away. It tugs at your heart and imbeds in your mind. Some of the best days I’ve had duck hunting I never fired a shot, nor killed a bird, but I witnessed life coming full circle when my youngest brother, whom I taught to duck hunt called in a pair of Canada geese for my father who had taught me all I know of duck hunting. I was a hundred yards from them and watched in amazement as my baby brother called and worked the birds into the spread. My father pulled up his Browning A5 as he had done so many times before and crumpled one. It hit the ground within feet of them. I don’t remember if my brother got his, he has taken many since. A sense of pride came over me so strong I had to sit down, I was almost in tears listening to my brother praising my dads shot and seeing my dad standing there with a big grin on his face holding his goose. I realized then what my father had tried to teach me so many years before, That all men can hunt ducks, but only True Men Duck Hunt.

MY dad, My bro Mike, and Me
My bro Mike and Me, With my banded honker, Mike’s honker, our bigfoots, and our Brownings

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