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Wild Duck Chase

The call of the wild. To Jack London, it meant wolf howls echoing through snowy valleys of the Alaska wilderness. To me, it sounds like geese — that distant honking that always jerks your gaze skyward and sets your neck craning around, searching for the source. […]

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It Ain’t Rocket Science

Twelve-year-old Louis Rossignol Jr. hadn’t been in his box stand overlooking the foodplot for 10 minutes, and his heart was already in his throat. His eyes bugged. He didn’t breath; he gasped. His father — tense, eyes riveted — looked over his son’s shoulder. […]

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Short-Changed

These didn’t look ANYTHING like pick-box draftees. None wore the battered sneakers and long-sleeved work shirt. None wore that huge straw sombrero and baggy pantaloons. None looked like Edith Bunker or Phyllis Diller. No, the sight of these had us RIVETED. […]

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Coastal Killers

“There’s somebody back there!” Eddie hissed, spraying me with whiskey spittle as he pointed a gloved finger behind the duck blind. “I’ve been hearing them all morning.” His eyes were wild. His lips quivered. “SEE!….. Hear THAT?!” […]

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Do It Yourself Tuna

Mother Nature’s been good to Louisiana. She saw to it that the liquid-swollen Mississippi River weaved unsteadily across our front yard, staggered through the hall and kitchen, grabbed a hold and steadied itself around the Greater Macedonia Baptist Church, and finally puked its guts out below Venice. […]