“They busted us,” said my cousin, who could not contain his incredulousness.
It was a perfect late-autumn morning in the marsh – crisp, clear, mildly windy, full of promise. The day couldn’t have started any better. We had scouted this smaller peanut-shaped wetland surrounded by picked corn the night before as hundreds of mallards piled into it near dusk. With few other options, we decided to set up there the following morning.
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