Duck Remorse

John and our daughter went duck hunting last night - about 2 hours after I posted the picture of my favorite type of ducks. They returned triumphant and we were all happy as we have no meat in the freezer right now. Our daughter walked in clutching these feathers and I asked, "What kind of duck was it?" "Merganser." "What? The duck that is my favorite? The one I want to be?" "Yep!"

I was a little offended that they targeted the type of duck that I felt the most affinity with. I guess when I said that I would like to be that duck I forgot that they were hunted. Now the dead duck is hanging out in the shop to age.

John also discovered that his retriever, the same one who will fetch sticks and fake ducks until her lips fall off, won't fetch a dead duck. Sophie described it like this: "When the duck dropped Rynda didn't see it because she was busy with other stuff." The "busy with other stuff" I'm sure will always be a problem with this particular dog. They had to throw sticks to the spot where the duck was floating to point her the way, but when she would get there, she would just get the stick and return. After throwing 11 sticks, her wake finally brought the duck in close enough for John to grab it. It will be a long duck season with that method.