WHAT A DUCK!

This is a short tale about a long duck, or a long tale about a dumb duck. It doesn't really matter, as the duck probably doesn't remember. This tale of a duck began late summer a few years past. This writer hoped that the memory of the duck wouldn't last long, however, that hope was not to be. The one who was there with me, my son-in-law, seems always to bring up the fallen ducks luck to me even, though I am attempting to forget the tale of the duck.

It was in the month of October that this tale begins. My son-in-law and I, as fisherman do, headed out to fish for the mighty salmon and trout that were found in the waters of Little Traverse Bay at that time of year. We left home early in the morning and headed west from Epsilon to Petoskey where we had great expectations of the big fish we might catch. There was always the possibility of a big one in these waters. The challenge was for you to catch a fish bigger than the person you were fishing with. This potential catch would give you the bragging rights for the biggest fish, at least for this trip.

In the late summer of that particular year, there was a mallard duck hen that must have lost her first nest. Because of this, she had nested late into the summer. This mallard duck had hatched four ducklings which were too young to fly by October, therefore, they spent their day swimming around the harbor.

When we arrived at the dock, unbeknown to my son-in-law and I, an earlier fisherman had just left the dock. This fisherman had spent several hours fishing from the end of the dock with spawn bags. Fishermen who use spawn bags take small colored marshmallows and place them on the hook with the spawn bag to make it float up off the bottom of the lake. As my son-in-law and I came out to fish, we did not know that the former fisherman had not only been fishing with the marshmallows, but had also been feeding the marshmallows to the mallard ducks.

It was here that a tale of woe begins. As we were walking to the end of the dock and deciding which plug we would fish with first, there was not a thought in or minds of anything but catching fish. My son-in-law went to the north side of the dock, while I went to the south side. When in place, we began to cast, with anticipation of catching a large fish (or any fish for that matter).

I had chosen to use an orange and silver Cleo. I sat down on the end of the dock to cast; however, the actions of the next few minutes were far from what I had expected. As I was reeling in and had the Cleo plug out of the water about a foot, a streak of brown feathers came from under the end of the dock, leaping up into the air, sinking its beak into the Cleo.

From across the dock, there was a strange noise coming from my son-in-law. He was doubled over; making funny sounds that sounded a lot like laughter. He was laughing so hard it was difficult to tell if he was in some kind of pain, or if the tears in his eyes were purely from laughter. As I reeled in the duck and removed the hooks of the plug from its beak, it looked kind of funny to me too. As I reeled, the duck was paddling with its feet and was flopping with its wings. Was that the reason for my son-in-laws spasm? After removing the duck from the Cleo, I tossed the duck back in the water, thinking it would flap its wings as it dropped the four feet to the water. That was not to be the case. Instead, when I tossed the duck into the water it failed to react in any way. What it did was to fall directly down to the water, sinking about six feet down under the water. After a few seconds, the duck regained its senses, shot up to the top of the water, and began paddling frantically with both webbed feet.

I would like to think that was the last time that young duck had a marshmallow. Who knows? One thing I do know is continuing its growth and its education, this young duck had mistaken the orange Cleo for a marshmallow.

There must be a moral here somewhere. Is it to never bite on something you can't chew, or is it to never take your son-in-law fishing when you are going to catch a duck? These are the stories that never end, even if you would like them to.