Last Day and Two Shells to the Good

SOLD

11 x 14

Oil on Wood Panel

Alla Prima Still Life

The last couple of weeks have been a little slack, and this morning gave all indications that it was going to be no different. My son, Nixon, and I sat in the drenching cold rain hearing shots around  while not seeing any ducks in our spot. Finally two geese came in as pretty as anyone could ask for and not one hit. We were in the duck doldrums on the last day of the season as silence and disappointment settled in on top of our blind.

It was decided to call it a morning and the walk back to the truck was as long a one as I could ever remember.  Both of us stared through the windshield on the way home both thinking to ourselves "what now"?  Going home with a skunk on the last day is a bitter pill to swallow.

Out of nowhere the phone lit up with its usual annoying tone. It was Nixon's hunting buddy's Dad calling as I fumbled to grab the phone from the dashboard.

"Hey Charles said Nixon had a swan permit this year. Does he still have it?"

"Yeah! We never got a chance to use it this season."

"High Tail it over here if you can. We are loaded with Swan, but  I'm not sure how much longer!"

No time to stop for breakfast or even a drink. We floored it to the other side of the county, and as we pulled up to the spot, swan were swarming over the field like seagulls behind a unfolded harrow disk in March. They were everywhere.

Nixon, with his swamp waders still own,  sprinted to the ditch where his friend Charles was crouching down behind a  bunch of swan decoys. Charles had already shot one and had to chase it down the field to finish it. Tired and winded, he told Nixon to get ready for the next wave. Too exited and frustrated from the morning hunt, Nixon shot too early and too high as he unloaded his barrel with no hit. After a few yells from us at the road to get down and wait this time for them to get lower,  Nixon shot high again, but miraculously brought one down. Still alive and only wounded,  the swan gave chase for twenty more minutes as my son had to follow it running in a spongy wet field in  neoprene chest waders. This is the equivalent of sprinting while pulling a pine log behind you.

Both swan and boy disappeared in the woods. A few minutes and one final finishing shot later, white wings, silhouetting a proud and exhausted fourteen year old's shoulders, appeared back in the field. Nixon was beginning his long walk back with his first swan - a fourth quarter comeback on the last day of the season.

Charles Atkins and Nixon Rascoe

Bertie County, NC

2015