The Infallible True Account of the Duck War of 2013

It was the first day of fall, and than meant pumpkins.
 It was the first day of fall, and that also meant cold wind. But I didn't care - all the same to me - I trooped out in flip-flops, garden wagon in tow. Everything was dead, except the pumpkins, making my job grim indeed. Little bits of frost still clung to the once-alive-but-now-frozen-crisp pumpkin leaves.

The cat was extremely annoying. It was hard enough to dodge cornstalks and pumpkins vines - even harder without stepping on a certain cat's tail! He meowed in perfect agony, begging for me to bring him inside.

But duty is duty. I had to harvest the pumpkins before it was too late. Time was running short, no doubt about that.

As I said, it was the first day of fall - and I was enjoying my chore. It smelled like fall and felt like fall and seemed like fall - and the cheery orange pumpkins were just too happy for words.

That's when I heard it. 

The loudest bang that ever made me jump out of my skin.

I mean - not a bang - but a gunshot.

My heart was in my throat and I turned towards the bay (where the gunshot had come) and watched as ducks by the fifties frantically began to fly in my direction.

Oh, I suppose they're duck hunters.

Now - duck hunters are allowed to hunt in the water. But only in the water. They may shoot in the water - but only towards the water. However, I think it's a perfectly horrid thing to do, considering there's a family of eleven only forty feet from the edge of the bay - and a stray bullet could be fatal. Plus - it's just plain annoying and they don't stay in the water and trespass on my grandfather's land and it's a very selfish habit to wake up the neighborhood for a stupid duck.

Anyways - I knew they were duck hunters. Yet I wasn't thinking (annoyed at being scared) and I watched the birds flying my direction.

I say, my direction!

Suddenly, the gun shots started going bonkers - it was a series of blasting what-not. They were shooting at the birds who were flying towards me...shooting at the birds diving towards me? Wait a minute.

Dive, stupid!!

The cat was gone - and I instantly ducked to the ground and hide under the pumpkin vines. It was a dirty maneuver - the dirt got all over my now-bare feet. I could see the trees being disrupted by the bird-shot. No one had ever hunted that deep in the bay (it's only about a foot deep!) and so close to the garden.

I'd never been so angry in my life. Who in their right mind would shoot towards a house?

I wanted my cat. The bullets stopped.


I yelled his name. Instantly (I almost could swear there were no birds flying by now) the shooting started again. Goodness - I thought - they're shooting at me!

"Are you crazy!?!?!?!" I screamed, "you're shooting in the wrong direction!"

Mentally - of course - mentally. Although I admit, I had half a nerve to give them a piece of my mind. I scared myself by such a hostile mentality, but it's not very charming to be shot at...like a duck!

Yes, I'm prone to drama - but anything was believable now. Forget the cat. I ran inside and left a trail of muddy footprints down the hall. And if I hadn't been so scared - I would've been screaming bloody murder the entire race back to the house.

After a while - I calmed down and fetched my pumpkins (which were undisturbed), texted my sister that I nearly died and stonily spied on the other duck hunters who were setting up duck decoys. 

(to which I share a secret: it is a known practice of my sisters and I to walk outside and sing Broadway at the top of our lungs. It almost always works to get duck hunters to leave.)

And that, friends, is the Infallible True Account of the Duck War of 2013.

Wait in anticipation for The True and Sad Tale of Miss Muppet and the Garden Spider.

Happy fall! 


1 comment

  1. Oh my goodness lol this is hilarious. I would hate to have duck hunters so close to my house! Have they no respect for the neighbors? I hope Tiger returned home all right :D


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Maira Gall