"The Duck Blind and Other Woods Stories"

The Duck Blind and Other Woods Stories

by John B. Anderson

Dan and I decided to go goose hunting on Saturday. I stayed overnight a Dan's house on Friday night. This was when Dan's house was near his dad's, “City Motel.” We had a good supper that evening, but Dan is one of those nature lovers who likes to sleep with the window open – even in winter. I froze my ass off that night.

The next morning, after breakfast, Dan and I bundled up in our hunting gear, grabbed our guns and ammo, and trudged through the woods toward Stony Point. We spotted some geese swimming in Lake Michigan, just off shore. We started sneaking through the bushes toward the geese, Dan in the lead. I clicked off the safety to be ready to fire. I tripped. The gun went off. The little tree next to Dan fell over.

Dan suggested, “I think that you should lead, John.”

Dan, Donnie, and I camped out in the woods by the ferry docks. Camping out was always a lot of fun. This particular evening, we thought it would be fun to throw our shells into the campfire, then duck for cover. The shot gun shells were as disappointment. When they exploded, they just went poof. The 22 shells, however, were exciting. When they exploded, projectiles sailed all around us. It turned out to be important to remember exactly how many we had thrown into the fire.

Dan and Donnie told me of an outing that included Dan's cousin, Doug. The game this time was to light an M-80 firecracker, drop it into a Coke bottle, and throw it into the air. It was important to hit the ground, because when it exploded, glass went everywhere.

Doug held the bottle. Dan or Donnie lit the M-80, and threw it into the bottle. Doug asked, “Is it lit yet?” Boom!

The camp out was cut short, as Doug needed a couple of stitches in his wrist.

Dan, Bill and I were hunting in the woods towards Thompson, without too much success. Bill excused himself to go deeper into the woods to take a crap.

After he had been gone a reasonable length of time, Dan said, “I think I'll fire one over his head.”

Boom! “Owww!”

“Oh s**t! You've hit him!”

We went to find Bill. One of the pellets from the shotgun shell had ricocheted off a tree, and hit Bill in the upper thigh. It was just a bruise. We walked out to a clearing, apologizing to Bill for the unforeseen ricochet. Bill stopped. “I forgot my gloves back there.” While pointing his gun at us, he said, “You two are coming back there with me.”

Dan and I agreed. We headed back to the crap spot, when Dan whispered, “Run!”

Dan and I ran back to the clearing to wait for Bill.

After about ten minutes, we wondered where Bill was. We called, “Bill! Bill!”

Boom! A branch next to Dan's head fell to the ground. At that point, we agreed that enough was enough.

Dan and I found a wonderful beaver pond. It was on the west side of US2, on the way to Thompson. (There are some homes along there now.) The beaver pond was large enough for ducks, plus a lot of little trout were also in the pond. One Sunday we decided to build a duck blind.

Dan and I were chopping down trees for the blind, when I heard, “G. Dammit! John, come here! I've chopped off my toe!”

Dan said, “Help me to the truck. You'll have to drive me to the hospital.”

“But, I can't drive a stick shift,” I replied.

“You're going to f**king learn how right now, dammit!”

I got Dan into the truck, and, sure enough, I got the truck onto the highway, and headed for Manistique. As Dan's house was right on the way to the hospital, I told Dan that I would stop and pick up Dan's mother.

“No you won't,” he said. “I'm bleeding to death. Get me to the hospital!”

At the hospital, when the nurse removed Dan's boot, blood spilled all over the floor. His big toe was kind of dangling there. After Dan was well sedated, Dr Fyvie started sewing the toe back on. As Dr. Fyvie sewed, he mumbled to himself about the procedure.

Dan, who was relatively high at this point, told Dr. Fyvie, “Doc, you talk like you have a mouth full of s**t.” Dr. Fyvie took no offense, smiled, and went on with his work.