To me the last day of duck season is the saddest day of the year. You always start worrying over those days that you could have gone hunting but laid in bed, the days you didn't shoot well and could have had a limit if only you'd have been handling your gun a little better, the long cold days left in the winter with nothing to do, the even longer hot summer with only fishing (a poor subsititute) to occupy your time, and on and on and on.
But there weren't many days I laid in bed, and I shot pretty well most of the year, so the remorse isn't too strong on those accounts. I counted up birds killed for the year, it came to 95 ducks and 8 geese, certainly a season to be proud of.
Hopefully another goose or two on Friday and Kaas has given me hope for a few more ducks as well. But to me it's still over, when I folded up the wool blankets off my bed in Ontario I knew the fun had really ended. But there's always next year, Good Lord willing.....
Destry
P.S. I've got to get all my pictures developed, I'll try to do that this week.
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I was as virtuously given as a gentleman need to be; virtuous enough; swore little; diced not above seven times a week; went to a bawdy-house once in a quarter--of an hour; paid money that I borrowed, three of four times; lived well and in good compass: and now I live out of all order, out of all compass. Falstaff - Henry IV
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