Once the frenetic pre-daybreak blitz of waterfowl activity has ended and the sun’s rays signal the start of a fitful armistice between duck hunters and birds, you’re left with two choices: strip off your coat to work on your last tan of the year or abandon the blind to find where those ducks are hiding
I love hunting dogs. I’ve been around them my entire life and have had three myself. Unfortunately, I’ve had bad luck with them. My first dog, a beautiful yellow Labrador, would hurl himself into the water with reckless abandon, retrieved decoys, balls, and even brought me live rabbits and grouse from the woods. He was
