This post is for Fuzzie, who thinks that I am not diverse enough and for Goon that has his duck hunting opener this weekend.
We had found a great duck hole in the backwater of Sardis Lake at an area called Buzzard Roost. We had talked it up and had invited my cousins (Bebo and Kent) and my uncle (Jim) to join my Dad, Paul and myself there for a really good duck hunt.
The morning was cold and ice covered all the branches as we walked in wearing our waders. The shallow spots along the edge of the hole had ice that we noisily stepped through. We had selected a ring of old brushtops to hide in and Paul and I hurried to get the decoys out as it broke day. We put out about 20 or 30 and started moving back to the blind when a log tripped me and I went forward into the water. The water instantly filled my waders as I struggled to get up and the shock froze me as I bobbled around. I got up finally and realized that the water had settled and I was not really that cold at all. I staggered back to the blind.
Five minutes later I was completely frozen as the ducks started to pour in. Everyone was shooting and calling except for me. I finally climbed up on the brushtop, pulled off my waders and just laid there. I was frozen, my gun was frozen and as usual there was not a lot of sympathy while the ducks were flying. After what seemed forever, my Dad decided we had better head in. I think my solid blue color may have had something to do with it. They had to help me make it across the water and guide me along the path. I never will forget that halfway back we stopped and they made me take off all my clothes and my Uncle Jim stripped down and gave me his insulated under garments. We staggered on to the truck. I learned a whole lot about walking around in water with waders that day, and that in an emergency,if the hunting is going great, I was on my own.