Done.

Late last night I had a vision.  More of a thought.  What is an unpopular dick like myself going to do tomorrow?  I don't have any good books to read. Being the last day of hunting I figured what the hell, I'll go slay some ducks and become the sole possessor of the coveted second place.  Second place is truly coveted because we all know the reality.  Awake with a small head tickle pack up the gear and head out.  I get in the truck turn on the radio and do you know what song was playing? No not "Susie Q" from CCR cause that would be real scary, but "Sunday Bloody Sunday."  An omen right?!  I arrive at the lot and it's packed, never seen it this packed, there was even a vagrant breaking into trucks, and police.  A pretty chilly walk with a stiffy in my fay.  Walk past a few guys setting up and get the exact place that I wanted.  Threw out my blocks, made a decent blind, and all the other morning rituals.   I'm feeling really good about making the effort to be there.  The stars are out and there is a terrific moon. Morning fly was sparse to say the least. A large flock of mallards (I have no idea but it sounds really good) fly down towards the Old New Spot and in passing they were greeted by a friendly round of sky busting with a round of expletives from said sky busters. Did I mention that a couple of Malakas set up across from me?  Every time they did their busting it would rain on me because they couldn't shoot in front of them they had to shoot at me.  That was the way the morning went.  Me sitting there watching these wankers shoot at everything that came close, including brants.  They finally picked up and left at an especially early time of 8:15, probably due to cold, out of ammo, or because they were lit up like a christmas tree.  They packed up their one duck that they blasted out of the sky about 150 yards out and made like the wind and left.  I think finally maybe I can now do some hunting.  Not really. A lone green head bastard flew through my spread and then some pintails.  With a lighter malfunction and a dry bottle I decide to call it a year.  Can I say it was a bad year?  Yeah I think so.  Congratulations to Clider.  Hopefully next season  Idaho can make it to Oregon so they could see what it's really like to hunt.

GBCH