Shootin' the Breeze

Shootin' the breeze -

The sun had not come up yet, when Rick, Harry (my nephew), and I began a short trip to one of our favourite duck blinds. The temperature was just above the freezing mark, but we still had high hopes for a successful outing. The moon was still in full splendour as we made it to our destination. The 30-minute drive to the path (we would have to take to our blind) had flown by and our little trio emerged from the vehicle excited to begin our day.

The path was shrouded by large spruce and balsam fir, and seemed ominous as we began our track. The frost had frozen the sphagnum moss and it crunched underneath our feet. The cool, crisp air filled our lungs. Everything was quiet and still. We made our way quickly to the blind without a word spoken. These precious moments of silence are priceless; they make you forget the hustle and bustle of the city we had just left behind. I often wish more people would leave the confines of the concrete and glass cages we call cities and towns, to spend just a half an hour in the quiet moments of the morning out in the wildness of our beautiful province. But, I digress. We approached our blind cautiously so as not to disturb any ducks that maybe nearby.

We went straight to work setting out our decoy spread. Harry threw out the first one, and to our surprise, bounced its way across a layer of ice that had formed near shore. After a few chuckles, Zeus and I were put to the task of breaking up the ice and clearing a hole to place our decoys in. One could say our day started with a bang!

With the hard work of clearing the ice and setting decoys behind us, we all set back to wait to see what would fly by. It was now 6:45 a.m. and the sun was almost fully up, when I heard a familiar sound, Harry's stomach indicated that it was time for breakfast. We customarily have Mr. Noodles and a cup of freshly perked coffee for breakfast, so Harry set out to light the soda can stoves and begin breakfast. I sat back staring at the sunrise. I couldn't help but think how lucky I was to see this. How many people would pay a small fortune to enjoy this small piece of heaven we call home. As the sun began to rise so did the temperature. It was interesting to hear the ice crack and bang as it slowly melted.

I must have dozed off because I suddenly snapped to when Rick whispered, there is something in the decoys, ED....ED!

Rick and I jumped to our feet and removed the safety from our shotguns and aimed...But, wait, there was something not right, the bird we saw wasn't a duck at all. It was an osprey or fish hawk as I have often heard it called. Its talons griped tightly around one of the decoys' heads. It must have thought that it had hit the jackpot; 50 ducks just laying there waiting to be picked off. It must have swooped down from behind us. The poor thing got some start as two defensive men jumped up, guns at the ready and pointing straight at him. The bird nearly died of heart failure, nearly falling into the water. We all laughed to see this thing fly away at light speed, probably never going to attempt eating duck ever again.

After that bit of excitement, Harry announced that breakfast was ready and would be eaten if we didn't hurry up. So, Rick and I quickly rushed off to join him. That would be the only bird we would see that day. But, it would be a duck hunt that would be remembered for years to come!

Ed Smith is a conservation officer with the province of Newfoundland and Labrador. He writes from Conception Bay South, NL.

Check Ed's outdoor network site: newfoundlandwaterfowlers.ning.com