It's all i've ever known. My dad took me anywhere and everywhere to chase critters and fish for as far back as I can remember. My first memories duck hunting was napping in a coleman sleeping bag in the bottom of a 15' aluminum war eagle, cold as hell. At that point my arms were to small to shoulder a gun. Couldn't have been more than 4-5. I distinctly remember at that age watching big groups of widgeon decoying and remembering just how cool of a sight it was. The hook was set. I graduated from that to busting my eye open with a single shot, hammer cocked 20 gauge trying to water swat a summer duck in the decoys. Somehow I kept wanting to go back. Now at 32 I am more ate up with it now than ever. It's the end of march and I'm constantly thinking about ducks and trying to get plans together for the fall. Not sure my pops was ever as mad at them as I am but he definitely led me down the path.
My little boy just turned 2. I believe the best is yet to come.
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