A Fowl Season Pt.1

(Part 1)
A single, bright light illuminates the room, exposing the silent night lamp, and the long arm that has awoken the phone. "One o'clock," I think to myself as I release the device that has most likely stirred the dog and my sleeping girlfriend, "only three more hours." It had been the third time that I had awoken in fear that my four a.m. alarm had been "snoozed," anticipation for the early morning had stirred inside myself since I had gone to bed at ten. It was the eve of another season, one that would bring coffee filled cold mornings, stories to pass quiet times, and hopefully, with some success, a freezer filled with the cornish game hens of the migrating sky. With shotgun in hand, steel shot within my pack and old patched up waders to hopefully keep me dry, I walked out of my house to welcome in duck season.
An hour had passed since leaving the warm sanction of my house as my fellow hunter and friend, David, flew his pickup down the lonely countryside highway while our canine companion for the day, Deac, slumbered in the back. Hunting hour started at 6:30 that morning, so there was no doubt we could get in and set up under the cover of night without compromising our position to the early birds, however, if you've ever hunted opening day before, you know there is the rat race of other hunters to get into everyones favorite spots. As we rolled into the parking lot, there was no doubt in our minds that we were the first ones up, and hopefully it would stay that way. With the engine silenced, guns and packs wrapped around ourselves, we made our way by foot down the trail, one that David knew too well and myself stumbling over every rock we came across. From behind, we suddenly were lit up by a single headlamp. "Hurry," David said as he picked up the speed.
Through the woods and across a low river we went as the light continued to get closer and closer. "Alright, we're hear," David said with a sign of relief. Somewhere in the towering reeds was his honey hole, a hidden man-made blind. With eyes adjusting to the dark, I could finally make out the beaver dam that had caused the perfectly placed pond. "We'll wait here and see where this guy goes," he said, pointing the attention to our stalker who had stopped at the location where we forged the river, not even 50 yards from behind our blind. We waited and watched, David's headlamp pointed towards him and his pointed at us as he wrestled with his equipment. Out from the trees three more headlamps emerged. "They brought the fricken brigade," I thought to myself. Concerned about crossfire, David handed Deac's leash to me, dropped the decoys, and made his way to discuss hunter etiquette with our neighbors. The swish of the water crashing into David slowly fainted as he made his way across, and with back and lamp turned away me, I lost sight of his tall figure.
It took a few minutes before David returned to our little island. "They set up decoys last night," David said, "And they're not budging on their spot.""But isn't that illegal?" I asked, thinking about the 30 minutes before hunting law. "Yeah, well I'd rather not get shot in the back on a low flyin' duck, I got another spot." Outgunned and frustrated with our eviction, we continued back across the river, passed our "friendly neighbors" and through the woods once again where we came across another opening to the river. "This looks good, let's set up," David pronounced as he opened the decoy bag. Growing up with a father who loved to hunt ducks, it was always his job to lay blinds and decoys (when we used them) and mine to hold onto the dog, so I did just that.
Few birds were flying by the time of sunrise, and those who did aimed their bills straight towards the beaver pond followed by the explosion of four guns. Feathers had begun to fly. Two stray, low flying Teal, those of which we presumed escaped from the group of 8 we saw head for the pond, zipped passed our decoys not even a foot above the water. "Damnit," I let out, as I hadn't even raised my gun. More booms erupted from behind us. "I'd love to tell a couple of Wardens about our little incident," David chuckled. Almost simultaneously, two floating Game Wardens rounded the bend in the river and landed upon sight of us. "Shit," I heard David say.