For some odd reason, Jarvis could see birds fine as long as they were in the air, but as soon as they hit the ground he just couldn’t find them. It seemed he would spend most of the day bent over looking through weeds, brush, and high grass rather than hunting.

Well meaning friends suggested to Jarvis that he get a dog to help him find the birds. The old fellow felt he was too old to train a dog, or worse yet, he couldn’t subject a vigorous young dog to his slow, plodding way of hunting. No, he decided to grovel in his misery himself.

Then one evening a solution to his problem moved into the apartment building. Each Tuesday night members of the Citizens Against Senility got together to play Hearts. The new gentleman on Jarvis’s right had moved into 401. His hair was fine and white, but his face had a weathered look that indicated many days looking into sun and rain. “He’s got to be a hunter,” thought Jarvis.

The new fellow introduced himself as Ted. Like everyone else, he declared he should not be here, but out at the lake where his house was. “But those darn kids of mine wouldn’t leave me alone until I move into town,” he growled.
As the game progressed he kept looking at Jarvis like he knew him from somewhere. Finally Jarvis called him on it.

“Am I supposed to know you, old timer. Or do you just stare at everybody that way?”

“No, I don’t know you,” Ted retorted. “You just look like an ornrey old hunter to me. Want to go sometime?”

“Sure, but you look kind of old. Can you see very well?”

“Heck, yeah. Let’s go tomorrow,” he said as he threw down the Queen of Spades and stuck Jarvis for thirteen.

By first sunlight the two cohorts were in the woods. Jarvis was elated that he had someone who could be his “eyes.” Ted was no spring chicken either, but hey, if he could see, he as good enough for Jarvis. Of course, he wasn’t about to tell Ted that. He chuckled softly to himself like he’d pulled one over on someone. Suddenly he was jarred back by the roar of wings. Quickly Jarvis fired at the blur and it disappeared.

“Did ya see it drop Ted?”  Jarvis yelled.

“Oh, yeah. No problem.” Ted replied back.

“Well…where did it go down?”

“I don’t know.  I forgot!”

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He and I were hunting ducks one cold morning. There were a number of drainage canals that crisscrossed the land we hunted on (private). We knew that we would always stand a good chance of spooking up some ducks from these drainage ditches.

Anyway, I’m walking by the ditch and I spot a duck awhile down the canal. I signal my buddy, and we proceed to walk as far away from the ditch as possible in order to sneak up on the duck. I’m making my way back to the canal where I believe the duck is hanging out, crouching down so as to not cast a shadow toward it, almost in a crawl – through the snow. I get within about five feet of the canal and am very proud of how well I’ve done when I stand up, point my shotgun at the canal, and am shocked that the duck hasn’t taken off.

Meanwhile, my buddy is laying down in the snow, pointing at me, and laughing himself to tears.

I look over and I apparently stalked a decoy he left behind earlier that week.

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