A Teal for Cassie. This was a different kind of wakeup call. Flicking on her light, touching her foot, I gently stated "Cass, are ya ready to shoot some ducks?" . Now, normally, a wakeup to my 12 year old daughter involves pillow throwing, murmuring, death glares, and even attempts at breaking the light bulb. Today was different. Today, after a decade plus wait, we were finally going duck hunting. Her eyes blinked awake, and a second later, her feet hit the floor. She was down the stairs, camoclad and face painted before i had the coffee filter pried apart from its siblings."Better take a thicker coat." I said-,"Its a long, cold boat ride." Duke already knew what was up. At the very end of his leash, he sat, twitching but generally still. He spun his dizzying 10 circle getaway dance before shooting to the pickup, looking every bit like a greyhound on the 30 yard dash, kicking up leaves and empty shells in his wake. "Get in the back." Duke forlornly hopped into the extended cab part of my truck as Cass took his place in the passenger seat. Although i knew that this day was coming, it was still surreal to see her there, hands clutching the single shot 20 guage I bought her upon learning i would have a child 12 years ago. Jim was waiting for us. My hunting companion for the last 8 years, he truly is something you expect to see on an episode of the Fall Guy, circa 1983. He shoots the same Browning A-5 he always has, drives the 1972 Chevy 4x4 he has owned since before i was born, and has an unnatural affinity for wintergreen chew and calling strings looking like they belong to a witch doctor. We just naturally went to work, loading decoys and launching the boat, a routine that is better done in silence, instructions a mute point after all this time. Cass and Duke gingerly climbed aboard, and after choking the cold blooded old witch, the 80 horse Mercury stammered to life. Across the waves we skipped, moonlight our lantern, shadows our map, until at last I cut the motor and we drifted into the bay. The rush of a thousand wings greeted us, splashes and quacks fading into the grey predawn. "You scared em all away!" Cass moaned. "They'll come back." Jim assured. Satisfied with the response from the old swamprat, Cass set about making a cozy spot in the rushes while Jim and I set out our sure-fire extra secret decoy spread.  After turning on the roboduck, I slogged back into the weeds, taking my place beside Cassie and Duke. This is when it really set in, that finally, here was Cass, gun at the ready, eyes to the sky, ready to carry on a Wilebski family tradition that carries back 5 generations. "Daddy, are you crying?" "Not yet.",I lied, choking back a little happiness into my throat, which happened to be in close proximity to my heart at the moment. So, fighting back pure emotion, I hugged Cass, took a last swallow of lukewarm coffee, and made a career out of studying the decoys. A sleepless night, followed by an early morning, multiplied by a first duck hunt with your firstborn and too much caffiene is a lethal combination to someone trying to act like a man in front of his longtime grizzled hunting partner. Jim knew as much and was intent on studying a hangnail as hard as i was studying the decoy spread. WHOOSH!! A squadron of teal broke me out of my blubbering wussy stage, zipping around the bay once, and splash landing in the dekes, 5 yards from in front of where Cassie and I sat. Cassie sat, obviously spellbound. "Ease the hammer back.", I whispered. Cassie snapped to attention, 2 thumbing the hammer on her single shot. "Now just raise the gun up, put your finger on the trigger, and SHOOT THAT DUCK!",I stage whispered as loud as I dared. After what seemed like an eternity, all the while watching the muzzle dip and dive, BA-WHOOM!!!! A muzzle flash lit the morning darkness. Looking through tears and flash spots, i made out a limp form floating in the decoys. A big smile spread across Cassies camo covered face as I ran over to hug her. Half, jumping, half falling, I high fived Cass, bear hugged her, and just about fell into the lake. Duke came swimming back with the duck, a handsome little blue-winged teal. Holding it by the beak, Cassie admired it, then flipped open the action of her shotgun and handed me the shell. "Keep that.", she said. And keep it i shall, along with great memories of a very special hunt, a hunt on which we shot 11 more ducks, a hunt on which most of those ducks were "Just teal.", a hunt that to many would be less than spectacular. I myself have shot limits of those "Big ducks." I have limited in less that 20 minutes along with 5 other guys. I have shot banded ducks, and have many full plumage mounts in my house, and yet no other duck has been more special to me that that one little teal. And herein lies a very important lesson. A hunt is just what you put into it, the joy you get out of it, and especially what you make of it. Out of that one teal, I gained a great, deeper bond with my daughter. I gained a hunting buddy, a friend. A friend who had only one question for me as we pulled up to the dock. "Are we going again next saturday?"

by Travis Wilebski