From the landing to the late evening...

The Rabid Outdoorsman Leads the Way
It didn't take long for my esteemed and pathological prankster friend to add insult to injury. The truck came to a screeching halt and a jubilant individual remembered the other part of his targeted plan. Since today was opening day and a Thursday, I had forgone this sacred opener to attend the weekend Duckpower conference in Central Maine. However, my buddy had in fact already hunted out of the same blind we would be attending for the next two days. He had to show me his quarry which consisted of two wood ducks (a duck that I have always wanted to take). As hurt as one may think I was, I just shook my head as the proud hunter put the mature drake into the freezer for taxidermy purposes while we were to enjoy the other as part of our fare that evening.

We reached the landing in no time and quickly put the foldable boat into the water. It was here that I got my first step in the super magnum ultra camo super cool waders (too cool for commas). To be brutally honest, it was a great feeling to go crotch deep and not get wet. Oh my god, that just sounded like a condom advertisement. I can see it now...



The Downeast Duck Hunter, “For full protection, I recommend the super magnum ultra camo super cool waders... Keeps the cold out and the heat in...”

Anyways, back to the story...

The sail out brought back so many memories of just one year ago, the foliage seemed identical in it's wondrous oranges, yellows, and reds. An absent wind left the still reflection of all colors in a kaleidoscope of intrigue. This was where I needed to be, for a moment in time I had forgotten the anxiousness that everyday life brings. As we motored towards our destination, several groups of our kind were hidden in the brush, grass, and trees along the shores of this paradise each in high hopes of harnessing one final shot before dusk beat the daylight.



Our race against light meant distributing the decoys in the proper avenue dictated by our most recent weather forecast, setting up the basic amenities of camp, and Steve making another trip back to the landing to acquire his four legged allergy machine. Stuffiness had already taken it's toll and even though I love water dogs, my body seems to tell me that one isn't in my future.

Once all was best prepared, the evening festivities begun. The meal would consist of a chili concoction of sharp cheddar cheese, added tabasco sauce, and other spices I would rather leave at the supermarket. But it did smell so good and the stomach was not happy that I had just invested in a three hour trip with no stops. The chili was devoured without hesitation and the wood duck was roasted over the open fire. Over the years, I have found that there exists no better substitute for cooking wild game than the efforts served by a generous flame. One difference between Steve and I is that he prefers his take a tad more raw while I enjoy a more medium prize with a charred exterior. But let me tell you this, I would have taken that duck over any top restaurant steak. Plus I had hoped the duck would have been a good buffering agent to the atomic agent Steve called chili. Actually, I would be more inclined to name it Chili Con Carnage...

As the clouds proceeded overhead and the darkness beat the light, we rested around the campfire chatting about anything and everything. This time spent with a great friend makes a good hunt great. We hammered out a few of the world's problems, reflected upon a few of our own, and provoked some potential aspirations out of each other as we continue our trek as experienced outdoorsman...

Even though my dear friend has and will constantly look for an avenue to shatter my personal well being through harassment and sinister actions, Steve and I share a friendship based on honesty, respect, and support. Our words on these hunts look for improvement, positive angles, and dreams. Although reality often acts as our ground, we never let the negativity of life dictate or negate the experience.

After some Youtube entertainment and browsing Facebook on the traditionalist's Blackberry, we elected to call it a night. Opening light would be five hours in time...