Aggressive calling pays duck-hunting dividends — if you know what you’re doing.
The water was high, but it wouldn’t be for long.
A northwest wind baring fangs sharpened in Canada tore through our camo coats and waders, making the short night spent in our warm beds seem like some type of surreal fantasy.
This was a serious blow that would drop temperatures to near-record levels later that night, but at this point, the wind was still on a seek-and-destroy mission, hunting down any semblance of recalcitrant warmth that remained, and driving it way out into the Gulf of Mexico.
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