Ok...thought I'd try my hand at a bit of poetry for a change. Hope it's an alright read...
Twas the day post-Thanksgiving,
And all through the bay.
The waterfowl were whipping,
to avoid ocean spray.
The decoys were strung,
with weights from each keel.
In hopes of some mallard,
pintail, widgeon, and teal.
Whitecaps on the water,
canoes at full tilt.
We plowed through the eelgrass,
the muck, mud, and silt.
Now I at the helm,
was rowing in fear.
That my brother's canoe would tip over,
and we'd lose all our gear.
We finally were set up,
and in came the birds.
Quack Quack BOOM! Quack Quack BOOM!,
too spectacular for words.
Now some ducks kept on flying,
yet some met their fate.
Limits by 9:30,
not a second to late.
My brother Adrian and I with some birds we got on the coast. Two days of hunting...one day was great weather with limits...the other day the weather cleared up a bit and we managed 7 birds.
We canoe into the bay...my one man kayak/canoe's hind end tied to the front of the other canoe (we do this because the second canoe is the type that is very hard to row with one guy). My brother sits in that canoe with all the gear, and I paddle my arse off in the front vessel till we get to shallow ground. Then we can pull the boats along behind us till we get to the X. At any rate, canoes on the bay with that wind is always a great experience...just ask BloodNtheBoat!!
Jon
A Thanksgiving poem!!
Coastalfisherman
Yeah its pretty sporting.
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