Finding the Extraordinary

The morning had been a struggle, what few birds had buzzed the rice had come in from the left when I was looking right, or in from the right when I was looking left. Rather than my decoy spread, they had opted for the safety of the reeds tucked tightly against the shoreline.

Tired of watching, I decided to make my own magic.

Jumping birds while pushing a boat can be tricky. Simple things like balance and coordination are not so simple with a rocking boat, and a motivated target. Nonetheless, I managed to drop a pair of Wood Ducks as they attempted to escape the protection of the reeds, both birds succumbing to my steel.

Bobbing in the open water, their white bellies made an easy mark for which to track. Turns out I wasn’t the only hunter who took notice. A giant Bald Eagle leapt from its White Pine perch, circling high above the further of my two fallen birds.

In spite of my verbal protest and hurried push pulling, the massive hunter dove effortlessly towards the water with its talons outstretched. With a quick splash, the realization of a bird lost, and feckless epitaph of expletives I watched in astonishment as it returned to the sky, my prize clutched firmly in its grasp.

I’ve experienced crazy in this bog, I've seen birds lost to the rice, but this was a first. What had been simple routine, quickly became something so completely unexpected, a reminder that when in the bog from time to time even the ordinary can become extraordinary.