The Downeast Duck Hunter: The Opener with the Rabid Outdoorsman: Part Two

This submission will put our co-existent blogs at the same place as I have two parts to the Rabid Outdoorsman's first submission...

At the landing...
I bear witness to an obvious excitement and assurance in Steve's demeanor. Too often has he pledged his time traveling east to meet up with his brother, Matt, and myself for a hunt. Rarely have I been able to join Steve and appreciate his efforts and dedication to embrace the outdoors. Repeatedly, he would urge me to accompany him for a turkey hunt, trap shot, or fishing trip but often I deferred. Somehow, I can't find the time whereas he finds, or rather makes the time. I admire him for that, he seems to be flawless in how he manages work, family, and his own time without any obvious signs of dissent. However, I do expect his world to change some when his wife re-enters the workforce from her maternity leave. When that happens, I'll smile and suggest to him that it was a good run.

Without haste, we set out for our destination, apparently a speck of an island, only to find that spot already garnished with an assortment of decoys. In the center of that quality spread, sat two fellow waterfowlers behind a blind next to a tent on an island about twenty feet in diameter. They too would be spending the night before the opener. Steve obviously knew them, sailed closer, and we chatted for a bit, but a quickly setting sun required a move to plan B. Steve looked at me and proclaimed that “Quack head” was our next stop. Ah, the legendary gunning hole that Steve spoke so well of, but I then was wondering why wasn't this special point of interest our first choice?

My take: Steve, the Rabid Outdoorsman reactive, but still positive and myself, dented but hoping for the best... Quack head here we come...

In about 5 minutes we arrived at the far side of this larger, but still small island. At the southern tip as we began to idle along was this fixed blind constructed of wood about 8 feet in width, 5 feet in depth, and covered by roof. Absolutely no work had been done to cover the blind, and little did I know that this would become my job while Steve motored back to get the rest of his gear and his trusty companion “Onyx”. With my instructions rendered, I mulled my circumstances and then began clipping brush and covering this blind.

My take: Steve, excited about our possibilities, myself racing against the dark, slightly stressed but functioning

We have seen quite a bit of rain these past few weeks and the water level seemed to me rather high, the blind almost seemed to be on the end of a peninsula of submerged brush and cover. Only a little strip of dry land connected the blind to the island, well at least I thought when I tried to get some more brush further away from the blind and aptly discovered that I was “stranded” with my muck boots.

Steve returned with the dog and seemed encouraged by my work, hell I've never put a leafy branch on some chicken wire, but I didn't think it was rocket science. However, these birds had been flying by the box blind without any cover for several months now and I wondered if my efforts would actually increase our odds of getting more ducks. Besides that, Steve seemed content with the work and started handing me our gear for the hunt.

My take: Steve, eager for camp, myself, encouraged by Steve's reaction to my work