From Behind the Duck Blind
By
Nate Bailey
The vapor of the fresh ground coffee danced in my nostrils. Today is a great day and the sun has not even risen. From the time, I changed my son’s first diaper I prayed for this day to come. Today my boys step into a world I dearly love by joining me in the duck blind for their first time. I can tell by the smiles on their faces that they can feel all of creation holding its breath in anticipation of the morning that is yet to come.
We huddle around the propane heater admiring our handsome string of decoys, sipping coffee, out of our well-worn Stanley thermos, waiting for my cell phone to declare legal shooting hours. The orange glow in the west pushes its light above the edge of the horizon, bringing with it the chorus of mellow quacking greenheads and the distinct, hurried, whistles of the widgeon.
With each quack, I can see the tension build in Aaron’s face. Shooting hours are ten minutes away and he knows it. Gage, being three years younger at ten, is oblivious to the crescendo of wings that the sunrise will bring.
We are hunting a drowned wheat field. The ducks sit on it during the night and leave with the sunrise-- not to return until about 9:00 am. Most mornings I can get in some good pass shooting as the birds leave the field, but for some reason this morning is different.
“It’s too early.” Aaron whispers with a hint of panic, “They’re starting to fly—they’ll be gone by shootin light!”
Before he gets the last word out, a group of mallards starts the retreat, which takes a total of nine minutes and forty-five seconds. At fifteen seconds before shooting light, my son’s hopes went with the tail feathers of the hundreds of fluttering specks in the sky. I reach down at my feet for the thermos, when I hear the distinct rush of wings overhead. I knew there was no way I could reach my 870 and get a shot off before this bird splashes in the decoys. “Dad! Dad! Dad!” repeats Aaron with a thirteen year-old’s enthusiasm “Get Him!”
Gage, about 5 seconds too late, blurts out in a thick whisper, “Duck!”
Aaron shoots Gage a piercing, older brother, look that says, “Don’t ruin this chance!” I try to calm both of the rookies down as the huge Greenhead, has already cupped its wings, committing itself to the wet landing. I can see the confusion on the boy’s face, why isn’t dad shooting they thought. My experience tells me that if I were to reach for the gun now, it would all be over--our whole deception would be ruined. I decide to let the mallard land. This was the only way I would have plenty of time shoulder my gun for a shot after I spook him back to flight.
With a splash, the duck now floats alongside our plastic frauds. Without missing a beat, he happily paddles himself in front of the expressionless dummy nearest to him. With a gaze of concentration, the duck peers into the dark spot that poorly represents a real duck’s eye, and gives a loud but friendly, “Quack!”
Expecting a response, the Drake’s face winces with confusion. Out of desperation, he lets out a louder, more forceful, “Quaaaak!” but it still doesn’t wake the dead. Leaving the rude plastic model behind, he swims with a nervous cadence to the next closest decoy. This time the large drake positions himself, like a drill sergeant, in front of the decoy and forcefully screams, “ Quaaaaaack!” The lack of response finally clues the old boy that he’s been had. In an embarrassed flurry he takes off. Luckily for him, the boys and I are too busy laughing to even think of trying to shoot.
After watching the clown disappear, I feel the Holy Spirit prompting me to explain this to my boys. “What brought that duck in?”
Gage, with his straight forward ten-year old mind answers, “the decoys Dad,” He sneers at his brother as if he has beat Aaron to the punch.
“No, Gage,” Aaron says in a quick defense, “he wanted something. And even though that something was wrong and he saw dad trying to get the thermos, he still came in and landed.” Aaron stares at the ground, as he always does when he’s is thinking. “That mallard talked himself into landing, even know he saw Dad.” Looking into my eyes he said, “He wanted those deeks more then his own life.”
Now I’m not sure how deep ducks think but, the Lord was showing my son something about Aaron’s own humanity through that duck. Feeling the Spirit’s gentle prod, I reinforced Aaron’s thought pattern with, “Your right, Aaron. What do you think the Lord is showing us today?”
Before Aaron can answer, Gage blurts, “It’s kind of like things the devil puts in front of us. He makes them look like something we want.”
“Exactly!” I say.
Aaron challenges, “If he wanted it so much, why did he leave?”
I can see deep thought on both boy’s faces now. “Listen,” I say in a voice that demands attention. “Think about the last sin you found yourself caught in.” Pressing closer I continue, “Didn’t you find out that the very thing you ached for would never make you happy?” The connection marks itself on my boy’s faces. They both crack a smile. God has used this one duck to connect with them.
Aaron wraps up the day’s lesson in an excited conclusion. “I see. Once the duck realized there was no life in his decision, he booked it, he was ashamed, in the same way we as followers of Christ should be when we realize we’ve chosen wrong.”
Gage says with a chuckle, “Do you think that duck was asking for forgiveness as he left?”
Laughing I wink at Gage, showing my approval. Aaron nudges him with all the affection an older brother can muster. Silently, I thank my heavenly Father for making it clear that he is paying attention to us. Then we turn our eyes upward looking for the return of the specks that will eventually bring action.
By
Nate Bailey
The vapor of the fresh ground coffee danced in my nostrils. Today is a great day and the sun has not even risen. From the time, I changed my son’s first diaper I prayed for this day to come. Today my boys step into a world I dearly love by joining me in the duck blind for their first time. I can tell by the smiles on their faces that they can feel all of creation holding its breath in anticipation of the morning that is yet to come.
We huddle around the propane heater admiring our handsome string of decoys, sipping coffee, out of our well-worn Stanley thermos, waiting for my cell phone to declare legal shooting hours. The orange glow in the west pushes its light above the edge of the horizon, bringing with it the chorus of mellow quacking greenheads and the distinct, hurried, whistles of the widgeon.
With each quack, I can see the tension build in Aaron’s face. Shooting hours are ten minutes away and he knows it. Gage, being three years younger at ten, is oblivious to the crescendo of wings that the sunrise will bring.
We are hunting a drowned wheat field. The ducks sit on it during the night and leave with the sunrise-- not to return until about 9:00 am. Most mornings I can get in some good pass shooting as the birds leave the field, but for some reason this morning is different.
“It’s too early.” Aaron whispers with a hint of panic, “They’re starting to fly—they’ll be gone by shootin light!”
Before he gets the last word out, a group of mallards starts the retreat, which takes a total of nine minutes and forty-five seconds. At fifteen seconds before shooting light, my son’s hopes went with the tail feathers of the hundreds of fluttering specks in the sky. I reach down at my feet for the thermos, when I hear the distinct rush of wings overhead. I knew there was no way I could reach my 870 and get a shot off before this bird splashes in the decoys. “Dad! Dad! Dad!” repeats Aaron with a thirteen year-old’s enthusiasm “Get Him!”
Gage, about 5 seconds too late, blurts out in a thick whisper, “Duck!”
Aaron shoots Gage a piercing, older brother, look that says, “Don’t ruin this chance!” I try to calm both of the rookies down as the huge Greenhead, has already cupped its wings, committing itself to the wet landing. I can see the confusion on the boy’s face, why isn’t dad shooting they thought. My experience tells me that if I were to reach for the gun now, it would all be over--our whole deception would be ruined. I decide to let the mallard land. This was the only way I would have plenty of time shoulder my gun for a shot after I spook him back to flight.
With a splash, the duck now floats alongside our plastic frauds. Without missing a beat, he happily paddles himself in front of the expressionless dummy nearest to him. With a gaze of concentration, the duck peers into the dark spot that poorly represents a real duck’s eye, and gives a loud but friendly, “Quack!”
Expecting a response, the Drake’s face winces with confusion. Out of desperation, he lets out a louder, more forceful, “Quaaaak!” but it still doesn’t wake the dead. Leaving the rude plastic model behind, he swims with a nervous cadence to the next closest decoy. This time the large drake positions himself, like a drill sergeant, in front of the decoy and forcefully screams, “ Quaaaaaack!” The lack of response finally clues the old boy that he’s been had. In an embarrassed flurry he takes off. Luckily for him, the boys and I are too busy laughing to even think of trying to shoot.
After watching the clown disappear, I feel the Holy Spirit prompting me to explain this to my boys. “What brought that duck in?”
Gage, with his straight forward ten-year old mind answers, “the decoys Dad,” He sneers at his brother as if he has beat Aaron to the punch.
“No, Gage,” Aaron says in a quick defense, “he wanted something. And even though that something was wrong and he saw dad trying to get the thermos, he still came in and landed.” Aaron stares at the ground, as he always does when he’s is thinking. “That mallard talked himself into landing, even know he saw Dad.” Looking into my eyes he said, “He wanted those deeks more then his own life.”
Now I’m not sure how deep ducks think but, the Lord was showing my son something about Aaron’s own humanity through that duck. Feeling the Spirit’s gentle prod, I reinforced Aaron’s thought pattern with, “Your right, Aaron. What do you think the Lord is showing us today?”
Before Aaron can answer, Gage blurts, “It’s kind of like things the devil puts in front of us. He makes them look like something we want.”
“Exactly!” I say.
Aaron challenges, “If he wanted it so much, why did he leave?”
I can see deep thought on both boy’s faces now. “Listen,” I say in a voice that demands attention. “Think about the last sin you found yourself caught in.” Pressing closer I continue, “Didn’t you find out that the very thing you ached for would never make you happy?” The connection marks itself on my boy’s faces. They both crack a smile. God has used this one duck to connect with them.
Aaron wraps up the day’s lesson in an excited conclusion. “I see. Once the duck realized there was no life in his decision, he booked it, he was ashamed, in the same way we as followers of Christ should be when we realize we’ve chosen wrong.”
Gage says with a chuckle, “Do you think that duck was asking for forgiveness as he left?”
Laughing I wink at Gage, showing my approval. Aaron nudges him with all the affection an older brother can muster. Silently, I thank my heavenly Father for making it clear that he is paying attention to us. Then we turn our eyes upward looking for the return of the specks that will eventually bring action.
