I really want to go again before the war comes, like the old times in Prussia in 1937, before it dawned on the world what was being planned for her.
To go into the places where it is all jagers and meisters, in kindnesses of feeding you like the fatted calf every hour it seemed in a place so serene and sedate it seemed as if the wars had never come.
I want to take with me things that matter. A double barrel muzzleloading shotgun, with all the cards, the lead two shot for the environmentalists to ignore and the new citrus powders. I do not want to kill ducks, geese and swans. I simply want to hunt them and praise them with my barrels if some sacrifice to me an offering where we could dine on them, on the morrow, as we ate them on the large wood tables and that big fireplace belching carbon into the atmosphere.
I really want to take along an 8 foot duck boat, that they do not make any more. Not that it is a serviceable thing, but I want that coziness to be in the reeds up along the Baltic, and maybe take her down to the Hungarian plains, just to introduce her to the waters before they are all poisoned.
Yes, beloved Uncle's Winchester 97 will come to, as he loved to waterfowl, and of course I have that box of shells from him in 2 2/4 and for this I'm certain I could find some old Nash Buckingham paper shells in twos that might like to greet some European geese.
How sweet that would be in roast goose, baked apples, yellow potatoes with sour cream and carrots, as the carrots are always good there in the cool of the year.
Perhaps some frau would make us a kuchen and we would have whipped cream on it and speak of things the way it used to be in memories gone.
There is something about duck hunting in the mysts of the cold mornings, waiting for the sun, and the sounds of them defiantly in play, noising to the world. I would rather hunt ducks than geese, as geese are such regal and nobel creatures who make one wait for audiences, but with ducks they are pure Republican in joyfully massing to vote upon the ponds and inlets content in the world they have made.
I love ducks. The woodie, mallard and pintail are supreme for dining. I see no reason for the widgeon or gadwall as they are delectable too far in between, and the teal are so small and ducky tasting.........and then those sea ducks which taste of fish, I would rather just see them fly in fast wing beats than to burn powder at them.
Yes, the joy of loading that black powder shotgun. Measuring the dram of powder, spitting down the tube and then pressing home the two cards, and the equal measure of shot, two shot as that is the only load, and then the card to keep it all in place.
Capping the nipple, half cocking the hammers, and then running my hands over that walnut and blued steel.
I can understand the camouflage patterns and new synthetics, but my heart is warm for the woods and the blues of steel, as there is comfort in them.
I wonder if a draathauer will be there or perhaps two. I would not want labs there, because this should be the domain of things German. A scowling, wire haired native, covered in that salt and pepper colored coat and all sternly surveying their domain, pretending they desire no attention, but always accepting it when the time comes.
The gentle sweep of winds in the reeds with that sound the world over. The knowledge that to the east lay Russian tanks and armies and in the west there are the fat Armies of the Europeans still trusting in American nuclear arsenal, is the foreboding like the grey clouds upon the northern horizon.
Most prefer bad weather for ducks as the hunting is good. I prefer sun and warmth with less shooting, as it is much prettier and more pleasant.........and who is to say that after 10 o'clock tea, that one might settle back and rest their eyes in the warmth of the sun, and awake to the sound of fluttering wings and convince yourself you are upset you missed a shot.
My in Uncles hunting coat, too tight now in being washed and hindering my swing, but all the same, invited along as he can no longer be there as we buried him over a decade ago now and his friends all look like they will soon join him in the great beyond.
I would love to have his Winchester 53 and Belgian Browning to take along to play, but alas people who do not love guns and have a heart for such family matters have them and view them as assets, while I view them as memories.
The 53 was a constant companion in his pickup while I was a child. That and his old wooden trunk he kept in the bed of the pick up. The trunk I have, rescued from a shed, having inside more rat feces than value and a rotting hide, but I did fix this trunk and replaced the nails with screws to secure it, and it still looks at me from an open shed, waiting to go to Canada again or perhaps at least hold the memories of a Europe long ago.
I miss Uncle at times like these. His wry smile and his knowing eyes. It was not that I did not know things, but it was always nice to have him confirm the things I knew as being told those things were caring that is but a bittersweet memory.
The ducks will fly away and I hope their roost will be safe for them from the war which is coming. The dead laying unburied and not mourned. It is all such a different world.
Yes a brown duck coat with shells too heavy, an 8 foot duck boat, an 11 gauge muzzleloading shotgun, two shot, a good dog, a thermos of tea with cream and a nice quart cup.
There is something comforting about the scent of the wetlands in autumn decay graced by the smell of burned powder...........even ducks in their warms smells as a much pleased dog shakes off the water from the retrieve and expectantly is looking for a repeat performance.
I have been cheated from too many times as this by being deprived of them by lack of funds horded by others.
"Would you like to shoot a boar?
No I have come to hunt ducks.
We can have you shoot a boar even if it is out of season.
No I have come to hunt ducks.
What about a stag or a bear to shoot?
No I have come to hunt ducks please.
Yes, I understand, you have come to hunt ducks.
Yes, like the old times, I have come to hunt the ducks."
agtG
