The following is a true account of my 26 hour day. Well, it's about as true as I can make it in its retelling as the details are getting a little hazy, even at only a few hours removed from the experience. It's so odd how memory turns to mercury as soon as it's made and events that seemed certain to be seared into the old cerebral cortex begin to run away and blend and separate. I suppose countering that process is the point of a journal or a blog or any art form although I think, in the end, it's pointless. You'll never really catch the mercury, it'll just go wherever it wants to go and probably end up poisoning you if you mess with it too much. Ah, the tenuous structure of this particular metaphor has snapped! On with the telling of the tale.
12am- wake up after a fitful night of sleep and dreams of drowning in waders.
12:30am- almost open up Melah's present from me- an electric water heater for tea. Why? Because at 12:30am making tea in a sauce pan is annoying.
1am- Out the door!
1:15am- Out of gas! Limp into the Chevron and buy a homeless guy a Whopper and myself ten chicken nuggets and wonder if this is going to affect my shooting ability. (Spoiler: it didn't. I ruined my shooting ability the first time I picked up a gun.)
2:35am- Made it to San Jacinto Wildlife Area in record time! Speed metal and mate are a brutally affective combination when one needs to drive a long way in the wee hours of the night/morning.
2:45am- Tenth guy through the gate. Behind me are approximately one hundred crazed duck hunters. How big is this place anyway?
3am- Let the chaos begin! Reserved spots first. Did all fifty show up? Hope not as there are a ton of us in the "sweat line" anxiously praying that no one on the res list showed up.
4am- Res list done! Thirty-two spots are open! Hazzah! Oh wait, there are seriously two hundred guys in Realtree Duckblind Camo behind me. This could get ugly.
4:15am- Seventh guy called out of the sweat line! Score! I am going to blast some damn ducks today! Well, eventually. You can't actually start shooting until 6:15am. What time is it?
4:17am- I. Have. No. Cash. Crushing blow. Wait! There's an ATM at the gas station down the road!
4:25am- It's amazing how fast you drive down a pitch black dirt "road" in an Element when you're properly motivated. No one can believe I'm back so fast. They all begin looking at me a little differently.
4:28am- "Ohhhh, Walker 8. Yeah, good luck. That's a tough pit blind. I'm sure you'll be fine." I hear someone behind me chuckle.
5am- On the road, looking for my blind. It's dark and there are three foot deep potholes and mud baths for the car. Cuidado, piso mojado.
5:15am- Park. Scout. Half mile to the pit. Water everywhere and no light. Good times. I slip into the waders, put on all the clothes I have and still shiver. Hoist the decoys onto my back, pick up the Stoeger and the blind bag and away we go.
5:17am- Where are the keys? Good thing I have a dork light on my head. Keys are underneath the car somehow but all is well.
5:45am- Did I really just spend half an hour humping all of this crap out to a little dark island only to find my pit blind is half full of what is probably rancid, bug infested water? Yes. Yes I did. God help me, I'm having fun.
6am- Decoys set up in a very convincing crescent with the open end facing... oops, facing me not the wind.
6:15am- After the mad dash to reconfigure the decoy spread I fall flat on my face trying to run through shin deep mud while wearing waders. Momentarily consider that I've crushed my iPhone but am roused to get into my pit as every gun around me simultaneously opens up at precisely 6:15am. It almost sounds rehearsed.
6:20am- Fired two shots at ghost like images screeching past me and was blinded by my own muzzle flash. It occurs to me that I can't really see so I probably should stop shooting and enjoy the sounds of the guns of Navarone around me. Are these guys using night vision goggles?
7am- Almost lulled to sleep by the incessant sound of Black Cloud rounds going off. The sun is coming up and I can now see that I'm surrounded. There are shooting positions at a safe distance from me but I am surrounded. No wonder you don't get too many shots from this damn blind! Fuck! Oh well, I'm here so I might as well get comfortable and see what happens. While adjusting my face mask I realize it doesn't work with glasses- they fog up instantly. I pull the mask off and promptly drop my duck calls into the pit blind "soup." They are done for the day.
7:12am- What am I doing here again? No calls, no shots, no where dry to sit. I think I've gone mad as I'm still enjoying myself. Sip some mate, watch birds get knocked down all around me and wonder what it's like to be a duck hunter.
7:30am- Mate makes me pee. A lot. I don't know how I forgot that but now I find myself in desperate need of a urinal. Ah, I'm standing in one! Perfect.
7:47am- Finally out of the waders, camo jacket, sweater, long sleeve shirt, Under Armor, and everything else in the way. Sweet relief. Good thing I didn't try to use my calls as I'm positive I'm not the first one to pee in the pit blind of shame.
8:30am- Two beautiful birds pull up right in the middle of the spread! So gorgeous! I can't possibly be allowed to shoot these things, right?! Camo helps in opening blind bag and getting the Field Guide to North American Ducks that I just bought. It's laminated so it can go where the ducks go! By the time I realize I'm looking at an easy double on a pair of Greenwing Teal they've both didi'd. They went from an easy 15 yard double to an impossible 60 yard dream deferred. Wonder again what it's like to be a duck hunter.
8:45am- Ducks on the wire at 40 yards and more. No hope in hell but rounds are fired anyway just to show the other guys that the idiot in Walker 8 is serious. Serious but not good.
9:30am- Look! Up in the sky! It's a bird! It's a plane! No, it's a flight of endangered Canvassbacks headed straight for my head! If I hadn't waved them off they would have landed right on me. Too bad you can't shoot them.
9:45am- Crazed looking duck plops into spread. Again, can't decide what to do and must consult Guide. In the meantime the Northern Shoveler that I should have popped has bailed out for greener and safer pastures. Fuck!
10am- Begin thinking about bailing but don't as everyone else is leaving. This might work to my advantage.
11am- It didn't.
11:30am- Decoys in bag, gun and gear on back. Faceplant on the way off the island. Wonder if iPhone is now crushed and wet. Also, what is it really like to be a duck hunter?
12pm- In my car. iPhone is dry and intact. Gun is stowed away. Gear is stowed away. Ego has been kept firmly in check.
1pm- Still driving. Will continue until I reach home or pass out from being oddly exhausted for having sat on my ass all morning in a wet pit.
2pm- Home! Sweet baby Jesus, it is good to be home. Except I can't stay as there is a Christmas party/birthday party for Vincent tonight. Damn. Quick tuna fish sandwich and some Peligrino and I'm out.
4pm- Showered finally! Happy and warm at Melah's house. Where's the party? Ah, one block away from my house, where I just was. Traffic is so bad it's kind of funny. Melah is off to her weird friend's house and we'll meet up later. Cool.
5pm- Driving and contemplating never coming back to civilization again. Was actually happier in the pit blind not shooting at ducks.
6pm- At the party! At this point I've been up way too long but oh well, must have a tequila shot with the Frenchman. It is his birthday, after all.
7pm- Stuffed. So stuffed. And getting drunk. Must apply brakes. Melah shows up at the same time I'm getting ready to pass out.
7:30pm- Rally! Hey, it's a party! Someone kill me, I am too tired for this.
9pm- No, seriously, the only thing keeping me on my feet is that I'm in constant motion grabbing beers, playing with the kids, anything to stay awake.
10pm- Oh joy of joys! Vinnie Vodka is in the house and too drunk to carry his invalid mother in law down the stairs so Jeff (hurt ribs) and me (exhausted) are volunteered to help out. In the rain. Good times. We carry her down the stairs, get her into the car, and then follow it to Vincent's house. So glad I have all my hunting gear in the car as I'm now wearing a super fashionable Mossy Oak New Break Up camo rain pullover. Keeps you dry and doesn't spook the game!
11pm- Saying goodbyes to Melah and Little Half-Dead Ani. For some reason I'm staying on for "one more beer." I have missed all of these people.
12am-Done. Off to Melah's and sleep. Oh wait, must pick up dogs at my house. Left them inside while at party so they wouldn't hang out in the rain in Melah's backyard.
12:15am- Dog puke is so cool.
12:45am- Pull up to Popeye's. Why? I don't know. I'm part black?
1:20am- Fast food? Not in the hood. These motherfuckers don't give a fuck. Slowest fast food experience ever and I think, if they could've, they would have thrown the food at all of us as we drove up.
2am- Pass out finally while watching Melah wrap presents. Wonder how long the midget will believe in Santa Claus. Sleep is nice.
Peace out, bitches!
2 comments:
what did you do to the stuffing?????
After all of that, that whole post, all you can ask about is the stuffing?
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