Things started off well enough. I rolled out of the warm bed at about 0300, made a pot of coffee, and by about 0345, I took off on a largely empty freeway. I made great time, and actually rolled into the “sweat line” before the gates opened. I had time to organize my shells, dig my calls out from under the seat, and make sure the rest of my gear was in order. This is usually a high-speed, rushed fiasco at the last minute, and almost always ends in my finding myself in the marsh at shooting time without some important piece of equipment.
This hunt was also a little different in that I would be working with a new dog, Cyrus, the black lab I bought for Kat last Christmas. This would be his first duck hunt, and only his third time in the field at all. Since Sundays are generally pretty slow hunts, I figured it would be a good opportunity to introduce him to the marsh, without the excitement of fast and furious action. He’s a natural hunter, and I was feeling pretty good about the coming day.
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