Even with two men per boat, it took six of them an hour to set all of the decoys in the water in a pattern to attract their game. Shortly after 5:30 they got back on shore and pulled the boats from the water.
They all hurried back to the parking area to retrieve their shotguns, ammo and other equipment. They carried these things and small portable chairs out to the duck blinds. Still too early to shoot, they hunkered down in the weeds, underneath several small trees on the peninsula, to await the sunrise.
This was Jackson’s first time out with his dad and he was determined to make him proud. Eric, Jackson and Chris covered the left side of the backwater and the other four men, including Chris’s dad Don, were to their right. They all had lightweight portable stools to sit on and the ground they were on was dry and firm. There were several small trees scattered about and between the trees, the normal growth, the cattails and their camo clothing, the men were almost invisible.
Jackson sat quietly and content, happy to be hunting with his dad and Chris even though he wouldn’t touch a gun. He had his earmuff style noise suppressors draped around his neck while he quietly ate a power bar and sipped water from a canteen. Blue, a superbly disciplined dog, sat on his haunches, absolutely still, between Jackson’s legs. The dog had been hunting many times and was probably the most excited one in the party; anxious for the sun to come up to get the action started.
There was a slight breeze coming across the river out of the east where the sun would rise shortly after 7:00. They could legally start shooting a half-hour before the official sunrise but waiting in the blinds, with the sky full of stars and an almost full moon, it was already light enough to shoot.
Every few minutes they would see a dark shadow flit across the sky and a moment later hear wings flap and a quiet splash as the ducks began to drop into their decoys. Blue could also hear them and he had his nose into the wind, his eagerness apparent.
The sky directly east across the river began to turn gray and Eric held up his left wrist into the moonlight to check the time. By prearrangement, the men had decided to stand and shoot at precisely 6:45, exactly a half hour before the scheduled sunrise. He flashed the five fingers on his left hand twice at Chris to indicate ten more minutes. Eric scratched Blue behind the ears, gave Jackson a brief hug and shifted slightly to make standing quicker and easier. Listening to the birds come in, he had mentally calculated there must be close to two dozen on each side of their small peninsula.
By 6:40, the red of the sun was clearly starting to show to their front. At 6:45 all of the hunters looked over their shoulders, nodded at each and quickly stood up as did young Jackson with his ear protectors firmly in place, his hand on Blue’s collar.
The water exploded as the startled ducks jumped into the air, desperately trying to flee from the sudden appearance of the men with guns. In less than thirty seconds, all six guns were empty with decidedly mixed results. Eric and Chris each scored two birds and a fifth one that they weren’t sure who had hit. The other four men, all older than Eric and Chris had knocked down only three between them and they were already in a heated argument over who shot what.
Jackson released Blue and the dog was off in a flash through the cattails and into the river. He spent the next fifteen minutes swimming in and out of the decoys retrieving the downed birds. One of the other men, a friend of Chris’ dad, had his dog that did the same for them.
For the next two hours they sat in their blinds patiently waiting for their quarry to come to them. One of the older men was fairly good with a duck call and every few minutes two or three birds would be drawn in. Eric and Chris each bagged two more, a pair of drake mallards, a male wood duck and a green winged teal. Whenever a bird or two showed any interest in the decoys in front of the other four men, all four of them would completely unload their guns at the curious fowl, making the small cove sound like a combat zone. More often than not, the bird would turn tail and speedily fly off, frightened but otherwise unscathed, much to the amusement of Eric, Chris and Jackson.
By nine o’clock the sun was heating up the air, the birds were flying higher over the river and the action had slowed considerably. Jackson, a little bored though determined not to admit it, had yawned a few times and almost nodded off.
“Hey, bud,” Eric said to his son. “Take the keys and go on back to the truck and lie down for a while.”
“No, Dad. I’m okay.”
“Go ahead,” Eric quietly encouraged him. “It’s okay. You’re doing great. Besides, we’ll be taking a break in about an hour to eat. Go lie down and get a nap in.”
Secretly happy to get the offer, Jackson took the keys and started back toward where the vehicles were parked. He had to pee and at his age, he was a little too self-conscious to do it in front of the others. When he reached the open space between the river and the parking area, he turned to his right and ran along the edge of the cattails until he found a good spot to relieve himself.
There was a slight indentation in the ground about a hundred feet from the path to the duck blinds. It was an open spot of bare earth, about two feet high at the top edge, sloping down about ten feet into the cattails. The indentation was a semi-circle about fifteen feet across where the river had washed away the foliage and the water had receded leaving dry ground.
Jackson dropped down into it and walked up to the edge of the cattails. He quickly finished and as he was zipping up his pants, he noticed something in the water. It was about five feet out and looked like it might be a rag or maybe a doll stuck in the weeds. Jackson was wearing water proof boots that went up to mid-thigh, so he cautiously began to make his way toward the object. When he reached it, he pushed aside several of the tall cattails and bent over to get a better look.
There appeared to be scraps of a small child’s pink flannel pajamas and a white object with what looked like several strands of hair attached. He reached down and gently rolled the white ball over and instantly recognized it as a small, human skull.
Desperate Justice Page 47
