First, allow me to compliment your sets Saturday at Presque Isle State Park.
You see, my wife and I had it in mind that day that we'd scour Presque Isle for birds -- songbirds, raptors, ducks, gulls, anything we could find. It's not the best time of year for mass bird sightings from a moving vehicle, but you never know. Or at least we didn't. Especially since we -- I -- had left the binoculars at home.
So when the shoreline trees on the bay opened briefly as we drove past to show flashes of black and white and the clear shape of ducks, then closed just as quickly before we could process what we'd seen, we had to pull over.
That's how we came to be standing in the shoreline scrub, bewildered but pleased that the ducks had calmly and uncharacteristically allowed us to get within a couple dozen yards. What a find, too: Mallards, sure, but canvasbacks, and even four buffleheads in a perfect diamond set.
The few buffleheads seemed out of place, given the mass numbers one can see in the late winter and early spring, but we were so enthralled with finding them at all on an otherwise duck-free day that we didn't even question their presence.
It was the napping mallards that gave things away. No matter how close I got, they never woke. None quacked, or flapped a wing. And my brain started forming a word. "Decoys."
And then the plastic construction became clear. It couldn't have been more obvious if PLASTIC DECOY had been stamped across the back of each bird in neon.
The thought process was gradual but slow.
"Nice set. Well conceived.
"You know, decoys are kind of expensive. And there's little point leaving them out if you're not hunting at the time.
"Who would be dumb enough to leave out an unattended set?"
And the answer occurred to me.
No one.
That's when I turned and saw the three of you, all camo but your eyes and shotgun barrels, wondering when in the name of Cabela's I would notice I was standing 30 feet from an active and well-hidden shoreline blind.
I hope you laughed at my spastic wave and frantic retreat. My wife did. She shouldn't have; she took photos.
The rest of the day was songbirds on the peninsula's interior. Juncos. Sparrows. Robins with attitudes. A shotgun sounded once through a darkening sky. I hope it was yours.