Photography by Hal Lauritzen

A bloated harvest moon, resplendent in all its autumnal glory, ascended ever-so-slowly over the duck marsh, as though silently tip-toeing over the cattails and bull rushes to avoid disturbing the aquatic creatures that call the marsh home. The trilling of pintails, the shrill two-toned whistling of widgeon and the seductive come-hither quacking of hen mallards permeated the pungent evening air, punctuated only by the occasional plaintiff hooting of a great horned owl.

Photography by Hal Lauritzen

In the waning twilight, the hunters leaned forward in their wooden chairs, intently listening and staring, as though mesmerized by countless flocks of waterfowl silhouetted against the moon and the straw-hued trail that it cast over the rippling water. The Labrador retrievers, each alertly sitting beside his master, followed with keen interest the closest flocks as they swept within what would be tomorrow’s shotgun range. Inexplicably, a handsome drake green-winged teal abruptly peeled off from its flock and in a dazzling display of darting, diving, and twisting maneuvers so characteristic of its species, recklessly splashed down in a patch of water a scant 20 yards from the hunters. Such a foolhardy display during the waterfowl season would quite possibly result in that teal’s abrupt removal from its gene pool. This postulation was not lost on the hunters, who speculated about the teal’s audacity and what its naiveté might represent for the next morning. The dogs, making eye-contact with their owners, seemed to sense that the brazen little bird’s action was a harbinger for good things that were sure to follow.

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