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  Praire Morning

Hunting StoriesPrairie Morning

The dark sky is full of the musky smell of vegetation while the sucking sounds of my steps unleash the mash bottom. How many times have I almost fallen in the black cold water of the slough. My cold hands untangle the carefully wrapped and weighted lines as decoy bag slowly decreases in size.

Surprisingly I am not rushed, false dawn is still twenty minutes away.

The moist cold of the slough is penetrating. It seems to draw you in like no other place. Watching the sunrise over cattails is no less a spectacle than watching you child take their first steps.

The sounds of the marsh wake you before the warmth of the first light. The flights of wood ducks and teal as they descend on the decoys are unmistakable. They arrive from behind in a rush of wind. Only the residents of the marsh know them by sound. Soon the mallards and gadwalls, they arrive with much more confidence as the woodys have blazed the way.

Posted by Anonymous on Tuesday, August 23, 2005 (21:07:12) (2621 reads) [ Administration ]
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