My Dad is an amazing man and an incredible example to be followed but was never much of a hunter. Growing up, I had my Hunter's Safety card at eight years old but didn't go hunting until almost high school. My Dad and my Grandfather took me deer hunting for a few seasons but I wasn't very good at it. I enjoyed my time with them and loved being outdoors but the enjoyment I thought I would get out of it just wasn't there. Through college I hunted some Hungarian partridge, grouse and went turkey hunting once but still hadn't found the passion I thought I should have for it.
Fast forward a few years, I was just out of college and trying to figure what my career was going to be. I had an invitation to join my friend duck and goose hunting for the season. I let him know I had done a little upland bird hunting and had some funny stories about that one time I went turkey hunting (I'm pretty sure the turkeys still laugh about that one), but that I really didn't have any waterfowl hunting experience. I knew I wanted to like hunting and I knew I loved to be outdoors, I just hadn't quite found my niche yet. We went shopping for the things I would need to stay warm and safe in the field and I procured my Grandfather's 12 gauge shotgun as the twenty gauge that I had was not enough to be successful. Our first couple trips were pretty basic in water no deeper than we could wade in as we didn't have a boat or a dog. I learned how to prepare my gear and put things together so it could be pulled out of the car and safely carried up to a mile in the dark and the cold. Early in the season the sun was still fairly warm and the weather had not yet cooled enough to force the flocks of birds south out of the wetlands of interior British Columbia and Western Alberta and into the Columbia Basin. I learned how to carefully put together everything I needed to be successful and most of all safe in the water in the middle of winter. These first weekends were in preparation for the week of Thanksgiving and the time over Christmas when his Dad came over for days at a time for holidays and hunting.
I had known him for years as his son and I had been friends since preschool. I had seen him play softball in men's league as a kid and saw his passion first hand. He had a love for anything you could do outdoors and a desire to teach others about that love. My friend had taught me well enough that I didn't look like an idiot that first weekend, but I am a why person and I learned many of the reasons why he had taught his son so carefully all those years. Mistakes can get you cold and wet and filling your waders full while you are in neck deep water is no fun. Before the advent of snug fitting neoprene waders a misstep or a fall has drowned many sportsmen. We drove barely awake in the wee hours of the morning down narrow rough dirt roads to lakes I grew up fishing and quietly loaded his boat before setting off rowing to whatever remote shoreline we were going to make our home for the day. Many mornings there were four or fewer inches from the top lip of the boat to the waterline. None of us were small but the amount of gear we had to make ourselves moderately comfortable for hours was daunting.
Once we got to our location and unloaded he would row out and set decoys while we set up the blind. If it was a spot we had already been and the blind was still up it was mostly just situating for comfort and shooting windows, if not, we had to hurry to gather materials and arrange them to hide us from view and prepare for daylight. His decoy spread was something to behold dozens of duck and goose decoys placed expertly from years of experience giving the waterfowl a false sense of security causing them to steer around and attempt to settle in gently in front of us before... I can only imagine what it looked like from the air. The side view was not so stunning. Most of the decoys were pieced together with shoe goo, haven't I told you that you can fix anything with shoe goo? The only open area amongst the decoys was placed directly in front of our blind with the birds inevitable upwind approach directly in front of us. "They will come in feet a dangling and lips a smackin," he used to say. That was just one of the many quips he would share with us daily. If I was shooting in front of or behind the birds that day he could analyze my form and help me be more and more successful.
We were out there from daylight to dark. We truly would not begin packing up the blind until we had hunted the last millisecond of daylight. We would unload the boat and load the truck and then drive back home in the dark. First we would resupply, repair, perform maintenance on our gear. Then we would eat dinner and it was time to clean our ducks. We would get done late at night and be back at it again hours before dawn in the morning. When the hunting got slow in the middle of the day he would break out a fishing pole and catch a few trout. Every spare minute was full of hunting or shooting advice, a funny story or a dirty joke then just as quickly as the story started it would stop, there would be a few quick answers on a duck call and we would be back on the hunt calling in as many ducks as we could. Trips to Tri-Cities to stay with Uncle Winnie to hunt the big water were a trip and some of the most fun times ever.
Admittedly, the career I eventually found and the family I have made has kept me from hunting for the past ten years. Working graveyards and weird shifts on weekends doesn't exactly lend itself to waterfowl hunting. Being dad to two little girls has made it difficult to get out there as well. While I regret neither of these things it did take away hunting time with he and his son. I always wanted to get out there again with him and now I won't have that opportunity. What I wouldn't do for another day in the blind.
He shared his knowledge, his passion, his sandwich (with the dog not me), and the outdoors with me. He helped me find my niche in the outdoors, my passion for hunting, my love for wingshooting, and for that I will always be grateful. I only hope I can teach someone else as well as he and his son taught me. Thanks Dave for everything and thank you Aaron for sharing your Dad with me and I am more than happy to share my dad with you. I love you both very very much.
Fast forward a few years, I was just out of college and trying to figure what my career was going to be. I had an invitation to join my friend duck and goose hunting for the season. I let him know I had done a little upland bird hunting and had some funny stories about that one time I went turkey hunting (I'm pretty sure the turkeys still laugh about that one), but that I really didn't have any waterfowl hunting experience. I knew I wanted to like hunting and I knew I loved to be outdoors, I just hadn't quite found my niche yet. We went shopping for the things I would need to stay warm and safe in the field and I procured my Grandfather's 12 gauge shotgun as the twenty gauge that I had was not enough to be successful. Our first couple trips were pretty basic in water no deeper than we could wade in as we didn't have a boat or a dog. I learned how to prepare my gear and put things together so it could be pulled out of the car and safely carried up to a mile in the dark and the cold. Early in the season the sun was still fairly warm and the weather had not yet cooled enough to force the flocks of birds south out of the wetlands of interior British Columbia and Western Alberta and into the Columbia Basin. I learned how to carefully put together everything I needed to be successful and most of all safe in the water in the middle of winter. These first weekends were in preparation for the week of Thanksgiving and the time over Christmas when his Dad came over for days at a time for holidays and hunting.
I had known him for years as his son and I had been friends since preschool. I had seen him play softball in men's league as a kid and saw his passion first hand. He had a love for anything you could do outdoors and a desire to teach others about that love. My friend had taught me well enough that I didn't look like an idiot that first weekend, but I am a why person and I learned many of the reasons why he had taught his son so carefully all those years. Mistakes can get you cold and wet and filling your waders full while you are in neck deep water is no fun. Before the advent of snug fitting neoprene waders a misstep or a fall has drowned many sportsmen. We drove barely awake in the wee hours of the morning down narrow rough dirt roads to lakes I grew up fishing and quietly loaded his boat before setting off rowing to whatever remote shoreline we were going to make our home for the day. Many mornings there were four or fewer inches from the top lip of the boat to the waterline. None of us were small but the amount of gear we had to make ourselves moderately comfortable for hours was daunting.
Once we got to our location and unloaded he would row out and set decoys while we set up the blind. If it was a spot we had already been and the blind was still up it was mostly just situating for comfort and shooting windows, if not, we had to hurry to gather materials and arrange them to hide us from view and prepare for daylight. His decoy spread was something to behold dozens of duck and goose decoys placed expertly from years of experience giving the waterfowl a false sense of security causing them to steer around and attempt to settle in gently in front of us before... I can only imagine what it looked like from the air. The side view was not so stunning. Most of the decoys were pieced together with shoe goo, haven't I told you that you can fix anything with shoe goo? The only open area amongst the decoys was placed directly in front of our blind with the birds inevitable upwind approach directly in front of us. "They will come in feet a dangling and lips a smackin," he used to say. That was just one of the many quips he would share with us daily. If I was shooting in front of or behind the birds that day he could analyze my form and help me be more and more successful.
We were out there from daylight to dark. We truly would not begin packing up the blind until we had hunted the last millisecond of daylight. We would unload the boat and load the truck and then drive back home in the dark. First we would resupply, repair, perform maintenance on our gear. Then we would eat dinner and it was time to clean our ducks. We would get done late at night and be back at it again hours before dawn in the morning. When the hunting got slow in the middle of the day he would break out a fishing pole and catch a few trout. Every spare minute was full of hunting or shooting advice, a funny story or a dirty joke then just as quickly as the story started it would stop, there would be a few quick answers on a duck call and we would be back on the hunt calling in as many ducks as we could. Trips to Tri-Cities to stay with Uncle Winnie to hunt the big water were a trip and some of the most fun times ever.
Admittedly, the career I eventually found and the family I have made has kept me from hunting for the past ten years. Working graveyards and weird shifts on weekends doesn't exactly lend itself to waterfowl hunting. Being dad to two little girls has made it difficult to get out there as well. While I regret neither of these things it did take away hunting time with he and his son. I always wanted to get out there again with him and now I won't have that opportunity. What I wouldn't do for another day in the blind.
He shared his knowledge, his passion, his sandwich (with the dog not me), and the outdoors with me. He helped me find my niche in the outdoors, my passion for hunting, my love for wingshooting, and for that I will always be grateful. I only hope I can teach someone else as well as he and his son taught me. Thanks Dave for everything and thank you Aaron for sharing your Dad with me and I am more than happy to share my dad with you. I love you both very very much.
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