Duck Hunting the Mountains of Colorado

Duck Hunting the Mountains of Colorado

“It sounds like an old man is dying.” I whisper to Greg.

“I’ve never heard anything like it. It’s like a mix between an obnoxious roommate advertising that he finally broke the dry spell and a clogged up New England fog horn.” is the whisper back.

"Well whatever it is, it sure sounds lonely” I mutter. I notice Greg is fidgeting with his safety as well. If that zombie or whatever it is tries to flank us, it’s going to catch a couple of rounds of #3 steel shot.

"I hope it stops before the ducks start flying. There’s no way we’re gonna call them in with that dying beast throwing out it’s death rattle.” say Greg.

“Yea, that’s going to be the cause of the ducks not coming in. I’m sure it will have nothing to do with our calling.” comes my retort.

The sounds subsides as we bury ourselves into the blind for a bit more cover. Several teal land a few minutes before shooting time as is customary in duck hunting. They take off as the dogs' whines plead for us to shoot them.

Go time. Ducks are spun out of the sky and three eager pups make retrieves in the frigid Colorado. I can’t imagine dipping my little toe into that icy water, let alone fight someone else to be released  and be the one to dunk my whole body into it. Then again I’m sure my pups look at me every morning and wonder why the hell I take off to work instead of roaming the mountains hunting with them.

The fury ends early and we pack up, deciding on heading north to explore some potential new spots. As we’re loading the trucks all three dogs go on full guards, back hairs pointed towards the sky.

“What the hell?” comes out of my mouth as I take a look in the direction their eyes are fixed on.

There’s a rustle in the willows no further than a Payton Manning’s pass behind where we were set up.

Greg is standing by my side by now.

“Well we might see the old man after all.” he says.

The old man comes busting out of the bushes. Six foot tall at the shoulders and shooting snot from his nose.

“Would you look at that. I guess he was lonely. And now he’s found a little honey to keep him company.” Greg notes as a huge bull moose comes charging out of the bushes hot on the tail of a female.

“Mystery solved. Let’s head north.” And with that we head out in the search of new hunting grounds.