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Clay McConnell
One of the weirdest things about the whole experience was the lack of blood. This was the first and only duck I have ever shot and truly believe that I scared it to death. He was gorgeous. Granny and Papaw decided he was the perfect duck to mount for me. He still sits in my office over my bookshelf.
Although time has changed us all, the memory remains. My favorite memories growing up are moments just like that, with my dad and my grandfather. For me duck hunting is not a past time, but a way of life.
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I grew up hunting flooded timber in Louisiana with my grandfather and flooded rice fields in Texas with my dad. When I was seven I was hunting in the timber at my grandfather's hole when a woodduck lit in front of me and dad. Slowly I raised the single shot 4-10 until the duck was in the sites. I pulled the trigger and for the first time in my life did not hear the panic of wingbeats making an escape. Dad waded over to the duck and proudly picked him up. I promise Papaw's chest grew two sizes as he came over to congratulate me.