My Suburban Escapes

I recently had the honor of duck hunting with my friend Charlie, another redneck in the ‘burbs who is an avid hunter and fisherman.  As it was the last day of the season, he invited three guides from a nearby shooting club to come along for fun rather than business. I’m sure they didn’t know what to make of me when I showed up on their day off.  Client? Cousin? Russian Hooker?  Wandering around a deserted boatyard at 5am on a cold winter morn in search of gun-toting men in camouflage is not for the meek-hearted. Hundreds of huge boats in white shrink wrap hovered like ghosts of long-lost sailors. The wind howled through clanging mastheads.  I wondered if I were the only woman in the world who had ever gone solo in search of such a scene.   They greeted me silently, as men do, and we loaded up the boat and headed into the misty.

I love men. More accurately stated, I love to do manly things in the company of men.   I love the simplicity of their socializing process, emphasizing DOING rather than talking.  All that’s required is to show up prepared and on time, and perform your duty adequately. Done.  I never have to wonder what to wear. It’s clearly defined.  I like to talk about the outdoors and gear. I like to hear stories of hunts and fishing trips, mishaps and adventure.  Compasses and carabiners, guns and gadgets: these are the things for me.   I like the way men interact.  They take their time. Conversation unfurls organically. Pauses aren’t awkward. They’re DOING something after all: hunting or fishing or playing a sport, getting to the hunting or fishing or sport spot by land or by sea, prepping for it or cleaning up after it. Silence is perfectly acceptable.

When in the company of men, I tend to behave as men do, but I’m sure it comes out all wrong, as bawdy as Mae West.  I may sound flirtatious, but I’m not saying it as a girl. I’m saying it as my Man Self.  My man friends seem fond of my Man Self. They slap me on the back like any other man.  I’m welcomed in the club by dropping a nasty one-liner, making an astute observation or spitting over the boat rail. If you jump in there and do what needs to be done, you pass initiation. If you pitch in and get things done without being asked, you’re in. If you expertly back into a parking spot or bring your own pocketknife, you’re an honorary man for the day. BAM!

The pre-dawn light slowly revealed the glory of Charlie’s rig, a 23-foot welded aluminum boat which doubles as a duck blind, James Bond style, and is powered by a 225 four-stroke Yamaha outboard.  In other words, it hauls ass and blends into the scenery.   Decoys are shelved under the sides of the boat with more decoy bags on the floorboard, neatly packed like your Mama’s fine china. Compartments under the seat store guns, ammo and personal gear.  Individual padded swivel chairs allow hunters to see over the gunwales. It’s a combination of floating Rubix Cube and Swiss Army knife.

It took about a half hour at top speed to reach our spot, a small rocky outcrop in the Long Island Sound. Migratory ducks begin to fly at daybreak, so the race to get in position was on.  Without a word we formed an assembly line, as men do, to get the decoys out and set up the camouflaged cover to hide the boat.  Charlie backed up in a notch of the rock, threw out an anchor and called his black lab to his side.  She was the true heroine of the day, as I damn sure wasn’t about to jump in that icy water for felled ducks. At the crack o’ dawn, Charlie began flapping a flag to attract ducks to our decoys, mimicking the sound of birds in flight. (No one ever said ducks were smart).  And the hunt was on.

Self-reliance and daring are a dangerously appealing duo in a woman.  I think everyone should hunt at least once in a lifetime, or learn to shoot, in case the world as we know it ever comes to a grinding halt. What the hell would you do? If you’ve been introduced to the basics, you can figure out how to feed your family if your life actuallydepended on it. And besides, it’s fun to come home smelling like WD-40 with mud on your hands.

There are great opportunities around these parts to learn to shoot, mini adventures that’ll open up a new world and have you back in time to pick up the kids.  When’s the last time you shouldered a shotgun you assembled yourself, feeling that final satisfying click? Or caught the sunrise over the Sound while hundreds of seabirds darkened the sky?   Just to be outside and active in the dead of winter is enough.  You don’t even have to shoot. But there’s great comfort in knowing how.

Public Sporting Clays Facilities which welcome Beginners:
Orvis Sandanona (www.orvis.com/sandanona)
3047 Sharon Turnpike, Millbrook, NY.  845-677-9701. Offers great instruction for all levels.  Beginners are welcome and gear is provided for newcomers. Wrap up your session with a lovely lunch in their café and a little shopping onsite for great gear and clothing. 

Mid-Hudson Sporting Clays (www.midhudsonsportingclays.com) 
411 North Ohioville Road, New Paltz, NY. 845-255-7460. Offer Intro courses (mandatory to rent gear). 

Private Instruction:
These experts will meet you at an area sporting clay course for instruction and will provide gear. They are also proficient in wing shooting, and can help you with gun choice, fitting and purchase. 

Tom Fiumarello (www.xcelsportingclayinstruction.com)
Email: tseaswirl1@aol.com

Keith Lupton  (www.keithlupton.com)    
Email: keithlupton@icloud.com

All Out Warfare: 
Liberty Paintball (www.libertypaintball.com)  50 Thunder Ridge, Patterson, NY.
845-878-6300 Crazy Paint (www.crazypaint.net) 1949 East Main Street, #6, Mohegan Lake, NY. 914.526.0806