Oh, those cool fall mornings, peace and quiet in the wee hours; slammin' the snooze button just one more time. That's about to end - duck season is biting at our heels. In our little slice of middle-of-nowhere heaven, the shotgun blasts begin early.  Way before it's even possible to see ducks, much less take aim and let 'er rip. Do these people have super powers? Night vision goggles? Each fall, those nearby boom-boom-booms have taken the place of our forsaken city noises such as the almost constant pitch of sirens and cars racing by.

I don't know anything about bag limits; we just enjoy seeing the occasional smarter ones take refuge in our part of the lake - it's our channel, cove, whatever you want to call it. The mouth of the lake opens up just two houses over. Of course, we have to get out the trusty bird book to identify (and in some cases mis-identify) the ducks that arrive.

It's not unusual to see all those folks in camo at gas stations, running quick errands (when we do go into town). And, no, they're not on a military mission - they're just duck hunters. Some bubbas; some not-so bubbas.

So, with that little vision, I'll leave you with the latest and greatest in bumper stickers (as seen in the back window of a pickup:

Hooked on Quack