Being in a hunter’s purgatory only seems worse when it is a misty 37 degrees.

Yet there I was Sunday. Knee deep in it, so to speak, attempting to duck hunt with my son, Thomas, and friend Darren Dennis.

It was my second hunt in three days, but what went wrong and what went right was just a continuation of the first hunt Friday in Hopkins County. There we were hunting a two-acre irrigation pond that was long on potential, but short on opportunity. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. There were plenty of ducks, but mostly divers. Without the forecasted wind at sunrise almost every duck, despite its heritage, lit mid-lake just out of range.

What was worse, however, was my dog Sadie. She has developed a horrible habit of whining when we are hunting, and it only gets worst when she see ducks flying through the spread.

That, along with the lack of shots, did not make a 3:30 wake-up call enjoyable.

Sunday was supposed to be a more gentile hunt. Leave my house a little after 5, drive to the water’s edge, throw out the decoys and hunt.

Not knowing exactly what the set up would be I carried both a pair of knee boots and chest waders. Once there I reached for my boots, but there was only one. The other was still in Chapel Hill. The problem with that is I live in Tyler and we were hunting near Overton.

So it was the waders. A pair I bought about 30 pounds ago. It took a while, but I eventually got them on and buckled one buckle. I reached for the other, but it wasn’t there. Well, half of it wasn’t.

Field repairs with sunrise nearing were not an option, so looking like Country Ned with one overall suspender flapping in the wind, I walked to the water’s edge. It might have been OK, but the weight of my shell belt was uncomfortably pulling one side down a little farther with each step.

And the whining dog from two days earlier was still whining. Not as loud, but constantly. It was driving me nuts and I could imagine what it would be like for the others. Feeling like a pariah I moved down the bank about 30 yards to the back end of the spread.

Because of the mist I did not wear my glasses. I am not blind. I can still read those big green interstate highway signs, but in a doctor’s office or the DPS the letter E is about as far as I get. I could see the ducks as they closed in on the decoys, but as for spotting them across the lake I had to take someone else’s word for that.

More importantly I never knew that it was my glasses that have been holding up my ancient facemask up. The first time I raised up to shoot it fell over my eyes and I never saw a thing.

And all of this happened before I slipped and fell in the water. Fortunately it was shallow enough I didn’t take on water.

Most of the birds coming into the decoys were wood ducks, but we did see some mallards, widgeons and gadwalls. Unfortunately it was toward the end of the hunt I remembered I could take three wood ducks instead of the old limit of two. By then they were diving into the woods to feed on acorns that were raining down from the trees.

Still we ended up taking a few ducks and by the time we were finished things were starting to look up.

I called Tyler dog trainer Grant Huff who offered some tips on the dog. The key is some hands-on punishment, and maybe carrying along a bumper for in the field training. Another option is simply time out back in the kennel if she doesn’t calm down.

I realize it is out of excitement. A desire to retrieve. I hate to mess with that spirit, but I need to get it stopped while she is still young.

I also found a plastic buckle to fix my waders. I started to ask the price when I called about it, but then realized it didn’t matter. It would certainly be cheaper than a new pair of waders.

And the boot? Good as new. It was located in the center turn lane of Highway 64, no worse for wear.

So I am optimistic about the rest of the season. I got rid of the early season yips. What else could possibly go wrong hunting in knee deep water in freezing temperatures?

Don’t answer that.

 

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