Well before dawn, vehicles full of excited duck hunters line up at the guard gate that leads into the South Shore Wetlands, a group of private duck hunting clubs located just off the southeast shore of the Great Salt Lake. It is opening day of the 2010 duck hunting season in Utah.
This year is extra special for me, as it marks the 60th consecutive opening day in which my father has participated. My father, who is now 75, has been hunting ducks since he was 15 years old.
My dad, a former Chicago policeman who grew up in the inner city, hunted his first opening day in the marshes located two hours south of Chicago and hasn't missed an opening day since. Shortly after moving to Utah in 1964, he joined the Brown Duck Club, one of the many clubs that make up the South Shore Wetlands. He now owns and operates two clubs.
I am a second-generation duck hunter and my nephew is a third. I would consider my son, who is now 12, a fourth-generation duck hunter due to the age difference between he and my nephew. This year, all four generations sat in the blind with guns in hand and calls hung around our necks, watching the clock tick down to the opening time.
Opening day is special to us, as it is to most duck hunters. It is a tradition. It marks the beginning of a long-awaited new season. The offseason is full of hard work. I was taught that being a hunter means that you are also a conservationist. My father in turn taught that same lesson to my nephew and to his grandson. We spend the offseason rebuilding habitat. We rebuild dikes, plant food in the lake beds, and lately we've battled Phragmites, those nasty weeds that threaten to take over and choke the marshes of Utah. I think most hunters, of any game, truly care about the species in which they hunt and the environment in which they live.
My opening day was cut short this year because of a little league football game my son and I had to attend as player and coach. As we were gathering our gear to cut our opening day short, I heard the familiar alert from the end of the blind, "Mark! There is a single coming from the north."
We crouched down and watched as the lone green-winged teal approached. As it began to veer to the west, I watched my son click off his safety in anticipation of the shot. As the duck passed just outside our decoys, he clicked his safety back on and passed on the shot.
When asked why he didn't shoot he said, "It was a little far and I thought maybe it would go into one of the other blinds farther down the club. Besides, I didn't want to take the chance of crippling it or having it go down where we couldn't find it."
The gleam in my father's eye and the smile on his face was priceless. He knew he had taught his grandson well and the tradition would be safely passed on.
Sam Russell lives in Bountiful, Utah, and owns six auto dealerships in Utah and Idaho.
e-mail: sam@autocarcredit.com