This is a game not without challenge – no lack of hard work – no small requisite of determination.

We met at the crazy hour of 2:00am on opening morning with trucks packed full of everything we needed, and nothing we didn’t need. No, not a first for us. More a tradition.

Arrived at the dark, quiet of the pathway in the trees that opens to a lily pad choked expanse of murky muddy water and launched two canoes. Dad and Ember in the 12 – J & A in the 15. Quietly through the lily pads turning right in the channel maybe 40 yards off shore.

Shortly, both canoes glide left around a point of land where the water then divides a stretch of trees and there it was.

The trees and water were black borders and base for a mysterious horizon of bars in colors of dark, medium, and light gray. And then the stars – popping out of a clear sky – 4 gazillion, 500 million and seventy-four of them. One of the dippers dipped its cap to us; or so it seemed. The crescent moon glowed as if smiling its approval. And yes AB, I believe you were right – even a planet!!  And just for throw-ins, a couple of shooting stars. Lord only knows how many miles away was all this theater – but for us, it was seemingly a hand reach distant.

We landed at 3:00am and huddled in the small space next to our blind on the comfort of stadium chairs (stadium chairs? – now that, was a first for us.) Dad, his dog and his sons. The landscape limiting room to move around, nowhere to go, nothing to do for 3 hours — except talk.

There is a beaver lodge maybe 45 yards away from our blind and they weren’t at all happy about the intruders Bellistri. Never saw them, but they splashed in and out of the water all around us and frequently womped their tails on the surface giving us what for.

As first shot got close and we began setting up the decoys and attending to details, I watched my two ‘little kids’ who have grown so proficient and purposeful at this thing called duck hunting. Filled my heart.

Before we actually start, another tradition needs tending. Cigars all around.

And all of a sudden, it’s one half hour before sunrise. AKA First Shot. It’s impossible for mere words to describe mind and body at that moment. So I won’t try.

Shooting is certainly a feature of hunting but today we didn’t do too much for a bunch of reasons.

But how special the 4 of us sitting in close proximity, watching the sky – oh yes, Ember does that too – and eyeing birds in the distance trying to decipher what their flight patterns and wing beats were telling us – and calling them – with an artificial call perhaps – but when blown well, an art form in of itself.

Eventually dropping a few birds – good shooting and plenty of ‘atta boys.’ The cherry atop being my dog. Seeing her filled with anticipation – and then doing with skill what she and I work so hard to perfect.

Time to pick up the dekes and load the canoes for the paddle out.

Standing there with guns cased, a duck flies up the channel exactly how we would have requested – 20 yards out front – 15 yards high – going left to right. It was a Bluewinged Teal. A special surprise – no, a gift really – for a whole lot of personal why’s and what-fors. No shot taken? No big deal.