Tuesday, November 16, 2010

That Time Josh called that coot with his speck call & the shell fell out of Kevin's gun...

© 2010 Joshua Stark

I love the Fall.  "The sound of gunfire, off in the distance (I'm gettin' used to it now")... because, when I'm hunting, that's oftentimes the only way I hear gunfire. 

Many people worry about the physical act of hunting, because guns are so dangerous.  Well, let me put that worry to bed right now: Go hunting with me, and the only worry you'll have about your gun is how it's making your arms sore from lugging it all over Kingdom Come.  In fact, you might even start asking yourself why you even bothered to bring a gun in the first place. 

I'm known in my hunting circles as a "cooler" (look it up, yourself), a condition that grows in magnitude whenever I go hunting with my cousin.  Our hunts together have been described as Epic, as in, "Wow.  I've never, in my entire life, had as bad a hunt as with you two - and I doubt I ever could again." 

If you've ever heard a hunting story of our adventures together, you know that they always start with the line, "that was the time that" followed by a title fitting of the greatest thing to happen on that particular hunt.

"That time we shot that speck";
"That time we shot that dove";
"That time we heard those woodies about 15 yards from us, but never got a shot";
"That time we emptied a box of shells to bring down that bufflehead";
"That time we saw those pileated woodpeckers";
etc.
(Contrary to the ramblings of one Hunter Angler Gardener Cook, there never was, "that time we almost heard those geese," that's just hurtful.)

For clarification's sake, those aren't special hunts - we didn't shoot a record-winning dove.  We shot a dove.

So, though I often talk about the ethics and importance of hunting, I just wanted to be clear with you, the reader(s, I hope).  I wouldn't want any illusions as to any prowess out there. 

A typical mid-Winter day duck hunting with me.  75 and clear, with no breeze...

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