Jacob Chambers

Ms. Litle

English Comp 121

30 January 2017

Paper #1 Character/Place Analysis

The blind was nothing special, no lovingly built masterpiece, no sunken concrete pit, or

boat meticulously painted and cared for. No, it was a cheap creation, sticks arranged to appear as

if it were a bush in the mud of an expanding lake. A hatchet, fishing line, and a few fence posts

were all that was needed. A camouflaged cloth covered the otherwise open top of the blind on the

days that the ducks flew high. The blind was the best spot Id ever had the pleasure of hunting,

and it made for the site of many pleasurable memories.

The blind sat on the outside of a shallow cove, a spot that I had watched for days on end,

watching as first teal, unwilling to suffer the cold weather already brewing in their breeding

grounds to the north, stopped at the lake and sheltered in the cove. Other ducks soon followed.

Widgeon, gadwall, and other early migrators filled the coves confines, feeding on the shallow

mud beds and its abundant bounty of aquatic vegetation that those ducks so relished. Every day

on my way to and from school I watched as flight after flight of ducks flew in and out of the

cove. Little trios of teal, the small almost delicate birds fast and graceful, strafed the edge of the

cove before settling down to feed on vegetation. Widgeon in pairs and singles soon followed, and
even from the road one could easily discern the white head of the males, something which

explained their nickname of baldplate.

I had decided on the position of the blind long before the opening of the season, and had

counted down the days with great anticipation. Each day brought forth more excitement and

opening day slowly got closer.

Finally opening weekend drew near, and I decided it was time to build a blind. The blind

was roughly square in shape, four posts defined the shape, and two strands of fishing line strung

in between the posts held cut brush stuck in the mud. A hatchet provided the needed brush; taller

branches being stuck into the soft mud bottom and smaller branches being woven into the fishing

line strands. The blind could comfortably seat two hunters, with ample room for shotguns and

spare decoys. While open generally, a camo cloth covered the top and hid the hunters inside from

the prying eyes of high flying waterfowl. The blind faced open water where decoys would be set

out to draw in passing ducks. In short, it was the perfect spot.

The blind got its baptism on opening day of duck season. My father and I arrived in the

pitch black darkness of early morning; the air was alive with the sounds of the quiet chatter of

waterfowl sitting on the lake and the gently lapping waves. After quickly tossing out the plastic

decoys I hurried back to the blind to wait for legal shooting light. As it slowly approached the

sounds of the lake picked up, high pitched peeps from teal, nasal whistles from widgeon, and the

quacks of hens of multiple species. As light invaded the sky, the dark shapes of flying waterfowl

grew out of the distance. The red and orange of a clear sunrise reflected off the lakes surface,

creating a riot of colors rarely seen anywhere else.

 And the ducks. The ducks were everywhere. That blind proved its worth shortly after

shooting light. My father and I hurriedly shucked shells into our shotguns as a group of teal

buzzed our decoys. The speedy little birds gave little reaction time but after a flurry of shots a

bird floated on the water regardless. That soon became the pattern of the day. Birds would see the

decoys sitting on the water and would come in quickly to land. Wed stand up and shoot,

hopefully adding yet another bird to the bag. It did not take long for us to reach our bag limits,

and we quickly hurried out to avoid ruining such a spot.

Teal were the blinds most regular visitors. The mud bottom of the cove and its vegetation

served all their needs for food and shelter. The warm weather blue winged teal in the early

season, followed by small groups of hardier green wings. Gadwall, widgeon, and shovellers all

flew into the blinds reaches. Divers such as redhead ducks and canvasbacks both flew into the

cove on cold stormy days, and they too were added to our bag limits. Canada geese often flew

directly flew overhead the blind. All too often the flew low, the sizable birds always making for a

great hunt. The blinds greatest asset was the surprise of what that day may bring. Would it be

speedy teal? Or would the day bring low flying geese? Possibly a redhead barreling straight into

our decoy spread, only time would tell how the hunt would go.

The blind always produced. It never failed, there was always some duck in the sky ready

to land at the edge of the blind. It was a calm relaxing place on its worst days, an exciting hurried

place on its best days. On stormy days ducks and geese alike hurried to the protected calm bay,

on calm days birds lazily flew into the blinds reach to feed. Some days the birds simply flew

low overhead, and pass shooting these low fliers became the way to put birds in the freezer, other
days every duck wanted in the decoy spread. It is a rare location that could ever have matched

the variety of both birds and situations that the blind produced.

The blind only produced for a single season before the rising lake waters flooded it. At

first my father and I wondered if the spot could be salvaged, yet the waters still continued to rise.

Now the blind sits under eight feet of water, and the protected cove that always so faithfully

produced has become an overall component of the lake. Yet even now I wonder, maybe the lake

will go down. And if thats the case, maybe itll be the great spot it was before. If so, maybe the

blind could produce once more.