Stuck in the muck

It had been a while since I’d scared myself.

I was hunting the marsh with Jem a couple of days before the pheasant opener. We were loaded for ducks, but the primary purpose of the trip was to scout for roosters.

Jem, my black and white springer spaniel, is the only one of my dogs that will enthusiastically retrieve waterfowl. Spot’s reluctantly brought back a few ducks that she could reach while wading, and Ace will corral them on land. Jem, however, can even perform blind retrieves, if I direct him with rocks thrown in the direction of the fallen fowl.

I’d shot a couple of mallards on one of the bigger ponds and he had jumped in, swam out and retrieved them both. Then he started flushing pheasants and it was time to head back to the truck.

We were walking along a two-track bordered by flooded cattails when a duck rose quacking into the sky. I shouldered the gun, took a shot, and watched him fall. The duck hadn’t landed too far away, but he was out of sight behind a stand of cattails.

Jem, who had been prospecting on the other side of the road, didn’t see him drop. I hollered fetch, though, and he came running, jumped in and swam in the direction the duck had fallen. I could hear him working his way through the cattails and I chucked a rock where I thought he’d find the duck.

A couple of minutes later, however, he emerged from the marsh duckless. I threw more rocks and Jem went back in the water.

He had no more luck the second trip, emerging from the cattails with a confused look on his face.

We were less than a half mile from the truck, the day was warm, and I figured it was time to get wet. Besides, I hated to leave that duck.

I propped the shotgun up on a sagebrush bush at the edge of the road and slipped into the water. It was deeper than I’d expected and quickly filled my boots. Pushing through the cattails, I found open water, took another step and sunk crotch deep. I tried to turn back but my boots were stuck fast in the mud and I was sinking. Jem swam in circles and watched

I reached back, grabbed a cattail, and pulled myself free.

After my heart quit racing I picked my way carefully through the cattails, reached dry ground, and sprawled there for a few minutes.

I could still hear Jem swimming in the marsh.

He never did find that duck.

Parker Heinlein is at [email protected]