Blue skies, wind, cloudy, rainy, it really doesn't matter. The sounds, the sights, and the smells are all the same. Waterfowl opener holds a special magic quality that can not be replaced.
Duck hunting is so much more than shooting six ducks. Or finding the "best" spot. It's about carrying on traditions that our fathers and grandfathers have passed on. Generation to generation, the heritage remains very alive. Sometimes company doesn't come in the form of another person. Instead, we are surrounded by life. Just listen and watch, you'll understand. Wetlands are streaming with company, if only you take notice.
This year I learned that it really doesn't matter which mud you stand in, as long as you're in mud. Each place is just as magnificent as the next. And, the ones in your heart are always around you. Traditions and heritage are not limited to a single place, nor are they met by harvest and location. What matters is that you continue to participate.
The water was wet and the sky was blue. The skeeters itched and the sun was warm. The wood ducks flew low and the geese were responsive. Dixie was spot on with her retrieves and of coarse slept the rest of the day away. We did not miss duck opener. We were there.