Duck Season

Andrew from Half Moon Bay

It had just gone sunrise. Nestled along the steaming banks of the wide canal, six of us crouched in the camouflaged hut known as a 'Mai mai'. Some had already been drinking Port, I could still smell dope and perhaps unbelievably, I was the only one there not dressed up as some kind of paramilitary reject. All of us had shotguns; double barrels, semiautomatic and pump action.

This was to be my first taste of opening season. Decoy mallards bobbed in the canal in front of our position and sporadically, we could hear the honk of phony duck calls carrying to us from neighbouring properties and further down the body of water.

Then they came. A frantic exodus of feathered bodies, desperately seeking sanctuary. We could hear their panic. Harried mercilessly from lake to creek, they banked towards the lures we had placed. Only to be greeted by the barrage of fire we opened upon them. A veritable hail of lead shot poured into them from our little bunker as we fired again and again. Some were struck dead in flight while others were shredded, disintegrated or just blown limb from limb.

The Labrador pups at our feet whined and cowered under the concussion of the rapid shotgun fire. Then it was over, the survivors flying desperately onwards in futile retreat.

The guys whooped and cheered while I think I managed a sickly grin. High five.

Sliding back the corrugated iron hatch to our hut, the Lab's scrambled free and plunged into the water, pushing through the carnage to seek any ducks unlucky enough to have survived our gunfire.

So ended day one of Duck Season, my first and last experience with it.

I was working as a farmer at the time and the life and death of animals was often in my hands. Some of those creatures I loved, some I hated. They had personalities. I had taken those lives before and more than once I experienced a living creature's life blood pour onto my hands, which is something I still find hard to justify. I'm not a vegan or a peacenik and I strive not to be a hypocrite. I've slaughtered, euthanized and hunted. In short, I'm not an innocent.

To me, Duck "hunting" is no such thing. It is a bloodthirsty massacre of terrified creatures. It is inane butchery on a wide scale ...and it's as Kiwi as Lion Red.