CLINT BREAKS a long silence in the blind. “I read in some waterfowling magazine that this is a bucket list hunt,” he says. “Canvasbacks on Pool 9 is one of the top five hunts to do before you die.”
He gets the reaction he’s looking for, a rueful chuckle that breaks the boredom for a moment. No one on the lake is shooting. Yesterday, before I arrived, Clint’s crew hunted all day to kill a few gadwalls and teal. This morning we have one hen gadwall. The cans aren’t flying.
Six of us guard a decoy spread bobbing on unimaginatively named Big Lake, a broad, open expanse in the mile-wide