Okay.  The last few blogs have been somewhat serious; this one is going to be just fun.  Let me (Andy) share with you what Duncan and I did over Christmas vacation this year (2009).  We went duck hunting.  Now you have to understand this is the first time in some 20+ years that I have been duck hunting.  I used to go all the time.  This was one of the few things that my dad and I did together:  deer hunting and duck hunting.  I had not been duck hunting with my dad since I had left home to go to college - 22 years.  And, while Duncan and I have done a lot of deer hunting together, this would be his first duck hunt. 

I purchased a five day out of state license, a federal duck stamp, and four boxes of steel shot shell.  Of course, I had to head back to the Bass Pro shop and pick-up a new pair of camo coveralls (my old ones were just a little too big; remember I've lost about 200 pounds over the past 10 months).  With all of our goodies and boots thrown in the back of my truck we headed north for Kentucky Lake to meet up with my dad and nephew.

I won't bore you with all of the minute details of the week; but I will share with you Duncan's first kill.  It was the second day of hunting (the first day we [dad, nephew, and me] killed three ducks, winged a dozen more, and saw a few hundred simply laugh at us as the flew by and away) and we had a lone duck slowly swimming into the decoys.  If you've ever been hunting you know how nerve wracking this can be.  Poor Duncan was climbing the walls inside the duck blind trying to stay low, keep his face down, get his gun ready, and all the time the rest of us telling him to wait, wait, wait.  Finally, the duck was inside the perimeter of the decoys and was presenting a decent shot for Duncan's first kill.  Duncan slowly raised his shotgun to his shoulder and slid it over the top of the blind.  Sighting down the barrel he gently squeezed the trigger.  BAM!  In a flurry of steel shot and feathers the duck dove underneath the icy water.

This promised to be a proud moment for father and son; for grandfather and grandson; even for cousins.  I was in the process of taking off my glove to give Duncan the mandatory man-to-man, you've just killed a critter handshake when all of a sudden my nephew hollers, "There it is!"  Some how, Duncan had managed to miss the duck all together.  It resurfaced some 60 yards out from the decoys and quickly made its getaway - no handshake, no duck.  This was the last duck that Duncan had a chance to shoot at; all of the rest of the shooting was on the fly and he just wasn't fast enough to shoot (this year).

As we wrapped up five days of hunting I asked Duncan if he had a good time.  His response was a big grin from ear-to-ear, "Yes!"  His response reminded me of what I had enjoyed so much about hunting with my dad.  It wasn't the killing that I had enjoyed as a boy; it was the simple fact that my dad enjoyed doing something with me; that my dad treated me like a man when we were hunting; that my dad found value in my company.  It was awesome to have three generations of Gowins' crammed into a duck blind, in the freezing December weather, on Lake Barkley.  It was awesome to spend time, again, duck hunting with my dad.  It was even more awesome getting to spend some time sharing a legacy with my son - Duncan.  Oh well, maybe next year he'll be able to earn the coveted title - Duncan the duck hunter!


                            Duncan in the duck blind.                                                                          I'm way too cold


Getting ready to leave...another successful day