The Cranky Ole Taxidermist sunk his boat several years ago. It put things in perspective for me. He wasn’t far from the landing but still probably wouldn’t have survived if it weren’t a Saturday, a popular landing, and without the help of a handful of camo-clad strangers in well-lit duck boats. He survived but he gave up duck hunting.
It wasn’t just the event that caused him to give up duck hunting. Age and other health issues combined with the accident to hasten a decision that he had been putting-off for a while anyway. He’s a giant of a guy (played on the offensive and defensive line for Georgia back in the day) and a cancer survivor in a daily struggle against psoriatic arthritis. It was time.
I had hunted with him a handful of times every season since about 2005 but always from his boat; the one he sunk. It was initially hard for the obsessive-compulsive in me to relax and let someone else control the hunt. I am used to doing everything exactly my way including shooting or not shooting ducks based on some pre-scripted ideas I plan before every duck hunt. His decoy spreads were a mess – basically the antithesis of mine, ugh. He kept his decoys in an open bin with twisted, bare wire siding – I keep mine in slotted bags. His were all plastic – mine are solids with wooden heads. His were barely recognizable for species and leaking foam from where he patched bullet holes – mine are meticulously painted to match the biology of every species. I learned to not bring mine on our hunts because a bird in the decoys was going to get shot regardless of any collateral damage. COT never apologized. He wasn't rude. He just didn't see it as a problem - they're just decoys for goodness sake..
It took a couple of seasons but I learned to, not so much enjoy but, endure hunting over misshapen brown blobs thrown out helter-skelter. Part of my hesitancy in accepting his style of decoying was having to admit to myself that my own decoy details are more about me, maybe much more about me, than the ducks. I still uphold my pre-existing decoy principles. It is a big part of scripting my duck hunts and a soothing ointment to my OCD, obsessive-compulsive duck hunting methodology.
It is not just the decoys. The Cranky Ole Taxidermist was an unapologetic duck killer. A duck anywhere within his perceived range of his favored 3½” shells was going to get shot at and he had a high opinion of the range of the long shells.
Decoying flocks weren’t parsed for drakes, adults or species. An empty gun was about the only guaranteed result of a quality draw.
Early on I kept my standards but realized that waiting for the right duck to approach the decoys at just the right angle and the right time was making me nothing more than a spectator at a duck hunt. At some point I started joining in on the fun. I tore into flocks without regard to species or gender and we sorted them out afterward. Having a dead duck that neither of us would claim became almost as common as a dead duck that we both claimed. I smiled and laughed where my solo hunts are as serious as brain surgery. I still like the way I hunt but have some fond memories of those unscripted days when if it was brown it was down.
A couple of months ago I decided to compile pictures of our better hunts into an album and send it to the COT. This was one of my favorites just because of the number of species…it was a fun day.
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