The Old Monroe bottoms still holds ducks. But, they're stale, just like the weather.

It was time for a change of game to a corn field that didn't get picked until the day before rifle season. It's a ridge top field that is surrounded by steep wooded hills.
Those gray bastages light in the perimeter treeline and watch and wait........ for ever !

I was by myself this morning, and in a field of that size, it was like herding cats on horseback.

I'd do it again.