Since I shot my first Canadian Goose on that bitter Thanksgiving morning I have been addicted to waterfowl. The art of waterfowl hunting has intrigued me more than any other type of hunting because it’s so hands-on and unpredictable. The birds we run into across the country aren’t exactly park geese or Wonder bread ducks; each mile they have migrated south and every hunter they have evaded has made them smarter and swifter, and pursuing them is a new, unique challenge.
There is something special each and every time we fool big migrating birds to pick us specifically and make their final flight. As long as I am alive, I will never cease to be amazed by the sight of big Canadians soaring into my spread like a 747 ready for landing or a group of ducks parachuting onto me. I will always take a frozen blind at 4 a.m. over a warm bed, and a snowstorm over a clear, sunny day because waterfowl hunting means more than limits to me.
It’s about getting out with the guys and dogs, making breakfast and coffee in the blind, and telling stories that will never make it out of the field. It’s what I live for… I live for Full Skies.