THIS IS DEDICATED TO MY GRANDFATHER

These are stories or events that I recall happening while in my Grandfather's hunting blind These events are how I remember them or maybe how I perceived them to happen

My Grandfather injected me with a virus back years ago in my preteen years without knowing it. He gave me the fever for duck hunting. He always told me that there were two types of people that hunted ducks; there were DUCK HUNTERS and the ones that just hunted ducks.

The ones who just hunted ducks were the ones who would go out to the blind, keep their heads down and when someone told them to shoot, they would raise their guns and fire.

A DUCK HUNTER was a different breed of person. He would go out in the rain, sleet and snow, with winds blowing out of the north so hard and so cold that their eyes would feel like they were freezing in their sockets. On bright sunny days you can hear them using their duck calls to call the birds, even though they had reached their limit, just so they could watch them fly.

My grandfather always told me he was one who just hunted ducks. He said you must be able to use a duck call which was something he never mastered and was something he was determined that I was going to learn.

It was sometime in my early teen years when my Grandfather, by my mother’s insistence I suspect, decided to take me duck hunting with him. I don't remember if I even had a shotgun, but I remember it being cold with the north wind blowing in my face. I remember sitting in the boat because I didn't have any hip boots, and the water was too deep for me to stand.

My Grandfather had a friend of his with him that was doing the calling because he was afraid my Grandfather would make the ducks run for cover if he started calling.

The clothing I had on enabled me to blend in with the background. The hat that was on my head kept the ducks from seeing my face but I kept peering up from under the bill so I could just watch them fly. My Grandfather would scold me for looking up because there was a possibility that if the ducks saw my face they would fly away. I couldn't help myself. I loved to watch the duck’s fly. When the ducks started to fly then circle to come into the decoys it was as majestic and as graceful to me as some people would say of a ballerina at the ballet.

My Grandfather told me later that on that day he should have realized that I was going to be a duck hunter because, even though I didn't have a gun, I watched in amazement because that day all I wanted to do was to watch the duck’s fly.

The next year my Grandfather built a blind in the very spot where he took me hunting. It was made out of Cyprus wood so it would withstand the elements that Mother Nature would throw at it. The blind was high enough out of the water so then when the water got deep, we could till hunt.

A friend of his, who was also a member of the hunting club, told him he was crazy for building a blind in that spot because he had the north wind in his face and the trees at his back. My Grandfather just looked at him and told him that it didn't matter where the blind was as long as they could get to it and the ducks had a place to land.

The blind was an interesting place. With the north wind blowing in your face so hard you could hardly see the ducks flying but we always managed to get a few shots. We didn't always bring home a limit of ducks, but we always had a pretty good time trying.

My Grandfather and I always had to take a friend of his along to call the ducks because neither one of us could call. This put us at a disadvantage because we couldn't go by ourselves. We always had to wait till someone who could call ducks could go with us.

We decided to go by ourselves once and it turned out to be a disaster. We got out to the blind with only a device called a "shaker". This type of call made only a feeding call, which was fine if the ducks got close enough. We needed a regular duck call which could make all the sounds a duck could make, including a "high ball call". This would draw them into us so that we could use the shaker. It was around this time my Grandfather decided I needed to learn to call ducks.

Learning to blow a duck call is a tedious task. It takes time, a good teacher and hours of practice. If the right note is used at the right time the result is amazing. On the other hand, if it is done wrong the caller won't see a duck for miles.

My Grandfather couldn't use a duck call, but he knew what to call, when to use certain calls and how loud they should be made. His friend taught me how to use a call, but it was my Grandfather's strategy that enabled me to work the ducks into his blind.

One cold winter my Grandfather and I made our way to the blind by ourselves so could put my newfound skills to the test. He would sit on the bench in the blind, which was behind me, and give me pointers as though I was driving his truck. From time to time I could hear him saying, "Now bring them back with a high ball call". As I responded to his wishes, sometimes the ducks would work but most of the time they would just fly away. I would turn around and he would be sitting on the bench with a cigar in his mouth smiling. He told me that I was getting better, and things would come around.

It did come. It came so well I didn't need to go with my Grandfather only because I was invited to go with other hunters to other clubs and other blinds.

The few years were probably difficult for my Grandfather. He had given me the skills that would enable me to hunt ducks, but I think he was worried that I lacked the skills to become a responsible hunter.

From time to time, I would see him during hunting season we would smile and talk about the hunts we had and lie about the big flights that would come in, but I knew he was always concerned about the type of hunter I was becoming.

He would talk to other hunters, and they would tell him that I was shooting at ducks that were too high and that I was blowing my duck call to frighten away ducks simply because they were not working where I was. I did have him worried, but I think he figured with age and the love of duck hunting I would become a responsible duck hunter.

Early one November, my mother was watching me get my hunting equipment out of the closet. She knew duck season was approaching because I was getting everything ready and I was also fine tuning my duck call, which meant I was blowing it every chance I got.

She waited till the right moment, then she said, "You are going to need to take your Grandfather hunting this year". It was simple and to the point. It was also her way of saying "it is payback time". Time for me to repay the times he took me hunting when he probably didn't want some wet nose kid tagging along with a gun bigger than he was.

My Grandfather was getting older, and his eyesight wasn't what is used to be. Because of the walking required for other types of hunting, duck hunting in his blind was about all he had left. I would take him to the blind where he could sit and still be in the great outdoors. He could also smoke his cigar without getting a raised eyebrow from my Grandmother.

I was older now and I would take him for the day because he enjoyed getting out. It didn't matter if the hunt was successful or not because being out there together was all that seemed to matter.

My calling had to be perfect because the only way he could shoot was for the ducks to be directly in front of him. He might not have been able to see as well, but his hearing was still as keen as ever. When he heard the ducks flying away, he would whisper "now bring them back son, bring them back".

Toward the end of the season, I was able to bring in a large flight. My Grandfather and one of his buddies were able to get off a few shots, then his friend asked me why I didn't shoot at the ducks. I told him I just got involved in watching them work. My Grandfather gave me a nod of his head and a smile.

I didn't realize till later what he meant. Later that day I was putting the gear in the truck, when a fellow club member asked my Grandfather how I was doing? My Grandfather looked at him and said, "He is going to make a fine member and duck hunter" When he told them I was a "duck hunter", they all smiled because being called a duck hunter meant a lot to them, it also meant a lot to my Grandfather.

Many seasons have passed since that time and my Grandfather has gone to where the hunting is always good with skies are bright and clear. The first duck blind my Grandfather built is gone now, but the blind I hunt in now is next to the one my grandfather built. The wood used to cover the first blind is on the newer one because the old Cyprus can still withstand whatever Mother Nature can throw at it. It still faces the north and the trees are still at the back but like my Grandfather said, "If you make the right call at the right time and the decoys are set right the ducks will work your blind."

This past season was one of the best we have had in years and everything my Grandfather said has been true. He told me once that ducks can't read labels on guns or clothes. He told me to buy the best I could afford and to take care of them and they would last. This also has been true.

Toward the end of the season, I was working a flight of ducks when I thought I heard my Grandfather tell me "Now bring them back." In my mind’s eye I could see him sitting there, smiling, with a cigar in his mouth, when I heard it again. This time it was one of my sons telling me "Bring them back dad." I looked around the blind and everyone was kneeling with their heads down so they could not be seen. My youngest was looking out from under the brim of his hat, his gun was leaning on the side of the blind and with both hands in his pockets he was watching. He was watching as I did, and still do, in amazement at the ducks, simply because he likes to watch them fly.

Thanks Granddad