Posted by Matt Snyder on June 01, 2001 at 9:31:44 a.m.:
Born into a 125-year tradition of hunting ducks on Oneida Lake, raised to revere the market gunners who were my ancestors, and transplanted to the urban nightmare of Washington, D.C.
At present I range all over the upper and lower Potomac river, and sample the rich hunting heritage of the Eastern Shore a few times a year; of course, every season finds me up in NY on my home waters, as well.
For what it's worth, I'm convinced that duck hunters are different from other hunters, and that diver hunters are different from other duck hunters. Not to say there's anything wrong with other kinds of hunting -- after all, how else would I spend every spare moment I have from August to May afield with a gun in my hand? But there's no deer or other critter that can equal the rush of 40 bluebills rocketing into the dekes, or the majesty of a flight of cans as they come cruising into the slot. I've been lucky enough to chase those birds all the way from their breeding grounds in Manitoba down to their mid-Atlantic wintering grounds, and along the way I've affirmed over and over again that yes, duck hunting is an addiction.