In January of 92 best friend of my life, Russ Pullen asked me to go duck hunting with him. The quick answer I gave him was a big, fat no. I had been a deer hunter all my life by the raising of my father. My father duck hunted in the seventies when they ran from the law with kroger sacks full of ducks. What the heck is a kroger sack anyway? It must be a big sack because they would put hundreds of ducks in them. The only reason he ever gave me for stopping duck hunting was not being able to use lead shot anymore. Back to my story of Russ asking me to hunt, My thoughts of standing in water in the chilling cold to kill a big dove was dumb. I killed enough flying birds with the opening of dove season each year in September and it was done in the warmth of summer. Water and cold is not a good mixture.
I finally agreed to go on a hunt though about the hundredth time he asked me. You pester me long enough on anything I will finally give in. I went on the pre-evening scout that afternoon with him to find where the ducks were. We pulled up to an old family friend's house where there was a an old slough running right behind. She came out to check what was going on as to somebody being in her driveway. With hundreds of dogs barking and roosters crowing, I felt like I had drove up to a barn than somebodies house. She was older lady that loved her animals and it showed. She came out to greet us and to see what we were doing. We informed her we were going hunting in the morning in the slough behind her house. A look of desperation and anxiety came across her face. Her next words I never will forget was "You shoot my pet ducks and I am going to shoot you". Wow!! This coming from an old family friend. Wonder what she would do to somebody she doesn't like that shot her pet ducks? I carried on the conversation with her as Russ scouted the hole. Russ came walking back up as the sun went to bed with a big grin from ear to ear. He motioned me to lets go. The older lady made her way back to the barn, oops trailer and turning around as she walked in the door and saying "You shoot my pet ducks and I will shoot you". We climbed into the truck and I noticed Russ was shaking with excitement. "They are thick as thief's", he said. What does that mean? I never have figured that one out. Do thief's stick really tight together? If so why don't we arrest everyone of them while they are so thick?
The morning had arrived of my long awaited first duck hunt. Let me tell you it was cold. Hold on a minute. Cold doesn't even begin to explain it. It was so cold I my dad had passed on going deer hunting that morning. If my dad wasn't hunting because of the cold you had to be an idiot to be hunting. He could withstand anything. He woke me that morning for my hunt. I layered the clothes on and was really trying to talk myself out of going hunting that morning. Letting my friends down was something I was not into doing. I promised him I would go this one time and I was gonna follow through with my promise. Headlights hitting the den windows was my call to the Arctic cold. The thing I really remember about that morning was Russ's windows were so frosted over that we had to drive to the hole 3 miles away with the windows down to see.
We made our way to our parking place and began to unload. I didn't really have to get use to the cold because I was frozen from head to toe. The hardest thing for a hunter to do is get out of a warm truck and jump into the cold dark morning. That is the point you start talking yourself out of a hunt. It wasn't this morning. I put on some frozen waders that belonged to my Uncle. These waders must have been made for hunting in Mexico. They were made from rubber and as thick as a Ziploc bag. The only thing they were made to do was keep you dry and from the patches on them I didn't think they would do that. I agreed to carry the decoy bag and Russ would carry guns and and shells. Russ led the way through the dark woods. He never was a good leader. One under written rule of hunting with a partner is you always hold any branches that might get in the way of the following hunter. He missed hunting etiquette classes. He let a limb that seemed the size of major log come back and hit me right in the face. Even if it had been a warm morning this thing would have made a grown man cry. With it being cold it quadrupled the pain. I laid on the ground in excruciating pain, Russ laughed. I laid there as he walked on and started throwing out decoys. I finally regained my composure and mad my way to the water.
The pink of the sunrise broke the eastern sky. The sounds of whistling wings and the occasional quack circled our heads like fighter planes Di-bombing a battlefield. I loaded my gun and quickly got ready. Excitement filled my veins and the pain of the limb on my face and the blistering cold throughout my body deceased. I saw a black outline coming right ahead of me and kicked my gun to my shoulder and let the fire fly. It was a direct hit and it made its way down from us. I went to trail my kill down edge of the slough. Ice crackling under my feet from the frozen water made lots of noise and my hunting partner screamed to get on the bank to make my chase as I would be scaring of any incoming ducks. I found the crippled duck lying on the edge of the water already frozen in the ice where it had hit. I picked it up and in disbelief I saw I had killed one of the lady's pet ducks. The thought of the previous days conversation with the little old lady rang through my head. "You shoot one of my pet ducks I will shoot you." I dug a hole in the frozen ground as fast as I could to bury the evidence. With my fingers pink from being frozen and mud frozen to them I tried to warm them in my pockets. I had so much mud on my hands they would barely go in my pocket. I made my way to my hunting partner. With questions flying I felt like I was being questioned for a crime. Really I could have been, thinking to myself. I finally told him I had killed one of the lady's pet ducks. I explained it was a mallard hen just like in her back yard. "How do you know it was one of hers", he asked? I muttered it had some kind of silver band on its leg with writing and numbers if you kill this duck call this number. I didn't think to look to see if it was the old lady's number or the number to the local sheriffs department to turn yourself in for killing a poor old lady's pet duck.He asked where I had put the duck and I proceeded to tell him I had buried it in the frozen tundra. With that my friend walked on water. Jesus and Peter weren't the only ones to walk on water. Russ Pullen did it. I was a witness. You want to find Al Capone, Russ Pullen is your man. He found the duck in a matter of seconds in the camouflaged hole I made for its final resting place. He went on to tell me what I had done was what most duck hunters had been trying to do for years, kill a banded duck. I didn't realize what I had done till later on in the day as Russ paraded the trophy around to all the local duck hunters.
I gave that band to him to remember that hunt with him and we still laugh till this day as we look on at his single band on his call lanyard. I have numerous pieces of jewelry on mine now, but none will be as special to me as that one and it couldn't be with a better person than my best friend. He still tells the story to all who will listen. I went on to make a career out of duck hunting and every hunt as I am throwing out decoys I think back to that hunt.What if I hadn't gone? What if I had laid there on the ground after being struck with a tree? What if? Make every moment in your life a what is, because you never know when one single moment is gonna change your life forever. Russ had shown me that taking people hunting and sharing a moment like with others is what life was all about. I didn't realize it to later on though what that hunt meant. Thanks, Russ I will be forever grateful for a moment that changed my life forever. A moment that led into a living and the birth of Mossy Island Outfitters.
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