Chew, if only you could see what I've seen with your eyes.

It's funny what the mind sees when it wants so badly to see something. This is never made more evident than when duck hunting. Once again, various agents of the thing called Nature conspired to keep me from successfully murdering a duck. I did, however, manage to murder some species of marsh bird closely related to that most hated of beasts the Coot. Coot-Lite, as I've named it, took on the wonderful red undertones of a Cinnamon Teal as it tried to swim into my decoys so I shot it through the neck. It then drifted out to the deep channel that bisects good old E1 pond and I had to go find a long enough stick to drag it back. Good thing the dog doesn't do water retrieves, damn good thing. After procuring a suitably long and sturdy log of about 9' in length I almost got water in my waders but managed to drag back to me what I thought was a Cinnamon Teal and then thought was a Redhead and then found to be a Coot-Lite. It's amazing how very unlike either the Teal or the Redhead a Coot-Lite looks like but in the wonderful and tricky light of the early morning over a duck pond you'd be amazed what happens. Every little wrinkle in the water, every little reflection of light into a tree, every sound, becomes that duck you'd really like to see flying into your dekes at that moment. Alas, I senselessly murdered a Coot-Lite and that was the sole critter I shot this morning. I had a few more passing shots on some actual ducks but I was feeling kind of guilty about the lil Coot-Lite and so my heart wasn't really into shooting anymore.

Following a truly depressing morning of non-duck hunting I drove through traffic all the way into Hollywood so I could hang out with a pack of snooty fashionistas and shoot a film test. Yep, from fetid swamp to fashion island in only one hour. Of course, I reeked of swamp water, had mud on my pants and boots, and was still wearing a camo hat but hey, I was the cameraman so what the fuck were they going to do about it? At least I left the dog outside as he really smells like ass. The whole thing was rather painless, I guess, but I'd have preferred to have stayed out in the duck blind and maybe rallied after lunch. There's always this weekend! Oh wait, no, I'm working on some shitty music video. Next Wednesday! Nope, Old Navy commercial. The weekend after! I could go down to Wister for the weekend! Hmm, doubtful. Fiance and kid have been gone a week and that'll be there first weekend after returning to school/work. Weekend after? Sure. Just keep telling yourself that, kid. You'll be fine.

When's spring turkey season start?

Peace out, bitches!