Duck hunting

Just to catch up a bit, since May, I've finished 3rd year of med school, done two surgery rotations at the VA Hospital in Seattle, took a few weeks off and am now back in Seattle for my ER rotation.

My break started by going back home. My dad, 2 dogs and I flew across Cook Inlet in his plane for opening day of duck season. We started duck hunting over there together when I was in 5th or 6th grade so it was a pretty nostalgic trip. We stayed in a luxury duck shack complete with a stove, table, porch and separate room for bunk beds. Opening day found us swatting swarms of mosquitoes in the twilight hunkered down behind a pile of driftwood fashioned into a duck blind. There had been some ducks on the pond in front of us prior to shooting time that acted as live decoys to give those we'd put out a hint of authenticity.

It's hard to describe the following hours in a way to paint the taking of birds in a majestic light but there were picturesque moments, freeze frames where every contributing factor summed to etch an indelible snapshot in my mind. After a morning of birds flaring into our decoys, birds from the far side of the pond responding in curiosity to our calls and dogs finally realizing their inborn drive fulfilled, my dad and I decided to take a walk and jump shoot before heading back to the shack for breakfast.

We had already put down 14 out of a 16 bird limit and were both wanting to prolong the day, but still felt compelled to seek out those final 2. We walked through the grass and marsh without seeing much for a while, the dogs trotting along tired from a long morning. I spotted two heads peeking up among the tall grass and signaled to my dad their location. We crouched, crept forward quietly until in a burst of sound and motion, they rose into the air. A pause. Eyes tracking, guns rising, a moment of calculation. Simultaneous shots forming one loud BOOM and both birds fell synchronized from the sky. The dogs, Chipper and Darby, alerted to the action bolted to find the fallen ducks in the grass.

It was the perfect ending to a morning unparalleled in all the duck hunts I have been on. It wasn't so much the hunting as it was the plane parked in the blowing grass with the mountains stretched skyward in the background. It was the plate of chips and onions and cheese and chili the night before. It was walking through the tall grass in silence with my dad and the dogs and the occasional hawk riding the air currents. It was the moment of anticipation, of hearing the wings overhead and briefly tensing before reacting quickly.

It's hard to describe without having been there, but it was one of the ways I felt a reawakening during my time off. It was a chance to sit quietly and experience the fullness of the life that God has given me and be thankful.