The First Hunt

I'll jump right to the point and say I didn't shoot anything yesterday. Not that the day was fruitless. I found places I won't bother going again and a few places I definitely will.

Drove to a small lake at local game area, arriving just short of 8. I'd wanted be there well before that, but I always underestimate the time it takes to drive to that area--near Picnkney, actually. The lake was beautiful, ducks or not, even in the steady rain and the wind that sheared yellow leaves from the oak and polar trees in clouds. No houses stood along its sides--just reeds, shrubs, tall trees, and shallow, mucky backwaters. To my untrained eye, it looks like a decent place to set up for waterfowl. I didn't, since there was a truck with Ducks Unlimited stickers parked at the landing. I had no idea where the guy was set up, and I didn't want to stumble around his blind.

Next I made my way west to another small lake on public land, and followed a small creek with a fairly swift current to where it entered the lake. I expect that would be a nice spot for the late season, when lakes begin to ice up. But step into the lake to test its bottom told me that trying to retrieve a duck there would be suicial. I went in to my knee, with no sign of stopping, in half a second. This will be a problem with many southern Michigan lakes. Getting a float tube may be a good idea, provided I can find a spot I can reach w/o walking through half a mile of osier and multiflora.

I tried to take a shortcut to avoid some of the tangle on the way back to my car, which led to the low point of the day. I lost sight of the landmarks I'd seen going in and ended up walking in circles for over an hour. At one point I could see a road intersection across a narrow strip of marsh that was heavily posted. I passed it by a couple of times, not wanting to trespass, but finally I went for it--I would have welcomed being picked up by the sheriff at that point. I was actually very close to my car when I came out of the swamp--a relief, though it made me feel that much more the idiot.

After that I turned back toward Ann Arbor, poking around in a few marshy spots along the way, each of which had that same soft marl bottom. I did jump a couple of wood ducks in a small river, though I wasn't carrying my gun at the time. The river flows near a rental cabin in a state park, and I suspected it might not be open to hunting. I was right, though I walked along it for a ways just to see if any birds were there, and sure enough...

I returned home wet, chilled and very happy. No, happy doesn't cut it--I was deeply conscious of being alive, and of the goodness of that. Not that I don't appreciate life, but sometimes the value of the condition is easier to grasp.

I have a feeling most of my duck trips this fall will be like that, just poking around. But returning home with that feeling will make them worth whatever disappointments they bring.