Ducks with a Death Wish?

Although our men are tied to the daily demands of their farms right now, irrigating and tending to growing crops, they can still dream. Those rare summer showers that are few and far between will find them planning and preparing for their favorite time of the year—hunting season.

Any spare time is spent sighting their guns and trying to find the perfect hunting lease. Unless, of course, they’re hunting on their own land, and if that’s the case, you can find them posting no trespassing signs here, there, and everywhere.

Paulette’s Uncle Troy always said he spent more time chasing trespassers off of his land, than he did hunting it. I remember a story he used to tell about the year the ducks were exceptionally plentiful. Uncle Troy saw dollar signs. He had flooded his fields and sold a couple of duck blinds to some big city hunters and it was his business to make sure those blinds were empty and available should his leasers fly in from the big city.

One morning he heard a round of gunfire from the back forty. He jumped in his pickup and hurried down the turn road. Minutes later, he found three strangers toting some duffel bags to their nearby truck. They were pretty much in shock when Uncle Troy greeted ‘em and proceeded to peer into the closest bag. “Did y’all not see my signs?” He asked, “I could have you arrested for trespassing and shooting my ducks?!”

They looked at each other and one fellow finally spoke up. “And what makes you think we’re shooting ducks?” he asked.

“Well,” Uncle Troy replied. “First off, son, you’re on my land with a gun. Second, I heard gunfire. Third, you’ve got dead ducks in this bag here, and you’re going to have a hard time convincing me that they flew in and committed suicide.”

Hugs, Shellie