Duck hunting

by Lorin Michel Thursday, January 26, 2017 9:28 PM

I am not a hunter. Not only am I not a hunter, I don’t like hunting; I don’t approve of it. Once upon a time, hunting was done to feed a person’s family. I still don’t like it, but I do understand that. However, to feed your family these days, you go to the grocery store. There really isn’t a reason to hunt.

Most people hunt for fun. Big game hunters hunt for trophies. As an animal lover, I am appalled. I know that many animals in the wild are dangerous. But they’re dangerous because they need to protect themselves; they need to assert their place in the kingdom. People like the Toddler’s sons who hunt for fun make me physically ill. The dentist several years ago that shot Cecil the Lion was a source of visceral anger. I know I was – am – not alone.

Years ago, when George W was president and Darth Vader was his veep, the latter went duck hunting and shot his friend in the face. It seemed to define the very sport, and I use the term loosely. Duck hunting where the duck wasn’t shot but the perpetrators – or in the case perpetrator – were. Perfect. 

Duck hunting is the practice of hunting duck, geese or other water birds for food and sport. In western countries, like our oh-so-fine US of A, water bird hunting is prohibited and duck hunting is simply an outdoor sport. 

Which leads me to today. 

Riley has a stuffed duck. He got it a while ago and I have no real recollection when. He has opened it up several times, dutifully pulling out the stuffing and depositing it in a pile to the side. Kevin has then dutifully restuffed the duck and sewn it back up. 

Today, Riley took Duck out onto the deck. Every morning, after we return from our walk, he grabs a toy while I grab a cup of coffee and runs to the door in my office, requesting access to said deck. He pushes out the door before it’s even open, and whips his toy back and forth while growling. Then he usually drops the toy and settles down. For some reason, today the toy – Duck – found its way off the deck and down onto the rocks below. I went out to retrieve the dog and his guy, but there was no “guy.” I went to the railing. There was Duck, down below. 

“I’m going Duck hunting,” I announced as I came back in only to go out the front door. I made my way down the swale to retrieve duck and brought him back to Riley. A while later, Riley and Duck went back out onto the deck. I went down the hill to take care of my neighbor’s dogs. It was 12:30. When I came back, Riley was standing at the railing looking at me and then looking down below. Duck. Down.

I went duck hunting twice today. Both times I was successful. I admit that I liked it. If everyone hunted ducks like I did and do, the world would be a better place.

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live out loud

Comments (1) -

1/27/2017 12:17:08 PM #

I have the answer to your problem, Lorin. Just tell Riley it's really "Wabbit Season".  LOL!

Fred Marcin United States

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