Excerpt

I left the car in the farm yard. I filled my pockets with shells, threw a gunnysack of decoys over my shoulder, picked up my Winchester model 12-pump and headed for the lake. The decoys were solid wood Masons, heavy, inherited from my fathers duck hunting gang, the remnant of which had originally been 150 in number. Masons were standard equipment in the upper mid-west in the early part of the century. They were manufactured in Detroit, Michigan. Mine have long ago been retired to decorative status in my library and homes of my sons, too valuable as collectors pieces to take to the marsh anymore.

The heavy sack of decoys was a burden as I trudged to the lake in the deepening snow, now halfway to my knees. What started as a rain storm had turned into a raging Minnesota blizzard. When I reached my boat, it was barely visible, covered with snow. I turned it over and looked out in the direction of the lake, visibility about 10 yards, limited by the blowing snow. Should I be venturing out on the lake? I had been watching the bluebills feeding in the center of the lake for a good week. Now was my chance to get some of them. I chose to go after them. I pushed my boat into the water, dumped the decoys in the bottom of the boat and push poled to the edge of the rushes where I switched to oars, still some protected from the northwest wind blowing from off the shore behind me. I started spreading my decoys. The wind was so strong I could put out only one at a time, then heave on the oars to reposition myself by the stool I was trying to set.

I had placed only about half of my decoys when out of nowhere and much to my surprise a small flock of bluebills sat down in the water right next to my boat. Ducks go crazy in snow storms. They flew off when they became aware of my presence. I threw out the rest of my decoys and pushed back into the rushes. Immediately there were ducks back into my decoys with other flocks in the air all around me. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of ducks coming off of the lake, seeking the protection of this tree lined west shore and attracted by my decoys.

I loaded my gun and shot two birds. There was a short delay before I rowed out to try and retrieve them. By the time I reached the open water they were gone with the wind, out of sight. I then decided to not pursue them into open water, with wind whipped waves, in my small boat propelled with oars. I headed back to the rushes. I had already gone out too far. It was a struggle rowing back. I was without a dog. What should I do? I wanted some of those bluebills. I was hungry for wild duck.

I decided to shoot and retrieve, one at a time, getting out of the rushes quickly to retrieve each duck. I had my limit in a short time, with mo more lost birds.

By this time the wind and snow were ferocious. I was relieved when my decoys were back in the boat and I had push poled back to shore. I turned the boat over, put my sack of decoys on top of it and plowed my body back to the farm buildings. I couldnt believe how the snow had further deepened in the short time I had been on the lake.

Harry came out of his house to happily greet me. He had been watching for me. He said, Did you see John Mayer? He had gone through the farm yard to the lake earlier this morning, before it started to snow.

Harry, I did not see John Mayer. He may have been near me, but if he were over 25 yards from me I would have neither seen nor heard him in the howling, snow filled wind.

It wasnt till the next day that I heard John Mayers story. He had launched his boat further north on the point and rowed to a location further south on the lake. He had an excellent bluebill shoot about the time the snow started. As he was struggling to get back to the north point, lost an oar, couldnt make it paddling with one oar. He drifted to the south part of the lake where he encountered ice, accidentally capsized his boat, managed to get to shore where he was greeted by the Winnebago Fire Department Rescue Squad who had just arrived there after having been called by Johns frantic wife when he hadnt returned home in the raging blizzard. When the Rescue Squad helped John to their vehicle he was suffering from hypothermia. He recovered.

John and I could have both lost our lives that day.