I've got thousands of stories, but I'll tell you my most recent goof up.


I remember the date, time, everything. It was December 27, 2007. Me and a buddy of mine were headed out to the saltwater side of Bushy Park tokill a couple ducks. It was SO COLD... I was underdressed, like I usuall am. It was 17 degrees and we were high tailin it to the duck hole the boat. We got there kinda early, before the sun came up, so we dropped anchor and just chilled by the butane heater until legal shooting time. About 4 minutes before that time, I saw one wood duck to the right of us dip below some trees. I hit the call hoping to get a response, and a second later three more came up from behind the same bunch of trees. They came barreling straight towards us and locked up. They landed about 15 yards in front of us. We waited for about 10 more minutes and woodies just started coming in from every direction. A drake and two hens saw our decoys and the ducks already in front of us, and they locked up. Craig growled "cut 'em," and we jumped up took two on the wing, and shot one as he got up off of the water. We started laughin and tellin each other good shootin, when I noticed some light coming from beside my foot. I looked down, and my buddies shell belt full of duck loads was blazing with fire! We started shoutin naughty words trying to put out the flames: "Throw it into the river!" "I'm trying" "Step on it!" Afraid that the 4th of July was about to rock our world, I picked up that belt and tryed to throw it in the river, but the flames burned the crap out my arm and I lost my grip. A good ten seconds of stress had gone by now, so I gave that it three good steps and extinguished the fire.

"I need a dip." *thwap *thwap *thwap. Craig put a pinch of grizzly in his mouth, and I couldn't stop myself from laughing .