What has it become?

I was unfortunate enough to experience one hell of a screwing Saturday morning. Picture yourself enjoying the sight of gadwalls and wigeon trying their hardest to join your decoy spread, but they are catching hell finishing because they other hunters on the river decide to crank up their rap music between 8 am to 10 am at various times, or the guys across the river with the wind in their faces hammering their mallard call like they are in Arkansas timber. It’s very aggravating. I use to be the one to cuss out someone else, but over the years I’ve learned that it doesn’t help. Maybe one of you was one of the other hunting parties out there that day. And to you, have some respect!