This one magical morning, me and a buddy of mine where headed out to the duck hole, not expecting anything special—maybe a gadwall or some woodies to fly over—since our small town wasn’t know to get that many big birds to fly over or really set down anywhere near here.
But I don’t know what it was, or if it was Gods hand set upon us, but this day the sky’s where panted green with mallard heads, and we had the privilege to call em in and harvest a few.
And I’ll tell ya, we where grinning ear to ear with excitement, and obviously we sucked at shooting, so we may have missed a few, but the lord gave us an amazing hunt with an amazing bounty, plus a story that will most likely be exaggerated to our children about how we went to a hole known for how bad it was but had the best hunt of our lives.
But obviously, as the hunt ended, it was our luck—we fell in, filling our waders to the brink with water as we where packing up to leave.
