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Jason Coffel
I moved to Louisiana a few years ago and was persuaded by a close friend to go on, "just one duck hunt." Fellas, let me tell you what…I was hooked! I can count the number of times I have deer hunted since on one hand. There's just something about duck hunting. It gets in your blood. A year or so ago, I was able to take my Dad duck hunting for the first time. I had spent a lot of time learning to call'em in and finally, just the right birds made that one last pass.
Dad and I watched as several ducks lighted in the spread. No guns went off…just me and my dad…together again…on the water…with ducks…that I called in for him. No where are you closer to heaven.
By the way, we dropped a couple of the ducks as they took flight…just to say that we did.
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I grew up as a military kid. So, wherever we lived…was home. We never stayed in one location for more than a couple of years, so, hunting became a way for Dad and I to spend time together. I can remember sitting in Dad's deer stand when I was five or six and then quickly being lowered to the ground to answer the call of nature…right under Dad's stand…which ruined the hunt. He didn't care…we were together. We moved to Japan and learned that customs doesn't care for you to bring guns to a foreign country. So, we took a couple of years off. Then we moved to Florida where a big deer is about the size of a large dog. We hunted deer and hogs in Florida…(with little success.) But, boy, we had a great time. The best part was getting to spend quality time together with Dad.