October Social Notes

I HAVEN'T missed an opening day on ducks since just after Noah dropped the hook in the shoals of Mt. Ararat, and this year I have a special reason for not missing. I simply must be ensconced behind a slimy water-soaked log out on the flats at the river mouth when the cold grey dawn oozes out from under the rainy clouds on the 10th. Some of those smart old mallards have had a lot of fun with my shooting in the past few years. They'd hide out until I was nearly frozen, and had to inject a couple of hot rums into my heating system to loosen up my finger so it would crook around the trigger. They always hid down-wind so they could smell the rum and gauge the time when I'd be ripe to sprinkle shot in the air ten feet behind them. They sure had fun.