You step into the classroom on day one, as the leader, not the carefree. Before being struck by airborne matter with an accompanying wisecrack you notice an assembly of ruinous damage. You hear a succession of whistles, songs, chatter, clatter and bangs. You see mind-bending, rapid motion – a freakin’ slew of it. You could be attempting to teach your kindergarten class for the first time, or likely, meeting your “buddies” for the annual Teal opener.
Amongst the sparring, you’ll likely encounter “skeeters”, “no-shoulders” and other damaging critters. Yet, all will be dismissed from mind come the first squadron screaming through the decoys. You’ll hail a decrescendo – one of little influence, and great passion. ‘They’ will bank, the Benelli’s will bark and members of the blind will rejoice.
The natural vegetation is in full foliage, the water pure, and the hunters eager. The inattentive Teal won’t be certain of anything, but the hunt most certainly will be a good one. The dangers are ever-present, but the “fowl sickness” prevails. After all, we don’t live for waterfowl hunting; it lives within each and every one us. It brings us all together. It’s nearly that time of year, and it’s hunting fit for a King. It’s Teal Season.