Blue norther with sleet stinging your face and snow blowing sideways on the Pecos River in West Texas with the mallards, pintails, redheads and canvas backs coming in to the deeks all day. Heaven on earth.
In high school my younger cousin and i would get his mom to drop us off at daylight on the Piney Creek bridge on Hwy 59 north of Corrigan in East Texas. We had 10-12 miles to cover up the creek by dark, for her to pick us up. Squirrels and ducks died. The woodies jumped from the bends were either shot or shot at cutting up through the pinoaks and sycamore and black gum trunks and limbs-spot shooting at its best, which precluded ever learning to "swing through", at least without often stopping the swing to fire.
Getting to the Iron Bridge early meant building a fire and each of us spitting a duck or squirrel over it and watching the juices sizzle in the inferno below. After all day with nothing more than an orange or apple they tasted simply wonderful with no salt or pepper.
