We hunted opening weekend at the brake (my Dad's farm/cypress brake south of Tunica). There were ducks working, and we had some shot opportunities at some ducks but couldn't quite get the logistics smoothed out to bag any. I also had him pass on a few shots as I was hoping to get some to land in front of the blind really close. We actually did have some land in the decoys about 15-20 yards out, but my son was sound asleep and did not stir until my third shot...but I digress.
We tried again a couple of weekends later when I took my friend and his two sons (8 and 10). Again, we had some opportunities and some shots, but no one was all that hot that day for the few shots we had. Again, when some prime opportunities availed themselves, my son was sound asleep.
Thinking the third weekend might be the charm, we went hunting with my BIL and FIL (kids and I call him "Pop") at Pop's farm that is around Johnson Grove, TN, and bounded by the Forked Deer River. We hunted in one of the blinds in a flooded field and had some ducks flying early on. After about the third group that came by, my son was ready, locked and loaded when a group of about five ringnecks buzzed in front of the blind from right to left. Pop and my BIL both shot as they passed, but my son locked in one that took off away from the blind with a slight quartering to the right. As I was standing behind and a couple of steps below him, I watched over his shoulder as he tracked the ringneck hen as she fled the scene. She was about 50 yards out on afterburners when I was about to tell my son let her go. A half second later he fired, and I prepared to take the .410, eject the shell (#4 bismuth), and load another one for the next visitor. To my surprise, my son leaned out of the blind a little to see around the heavily brushed shooting spot he was in, and told me he watched the duck go down. Pop and my BIL confirmed the duck was down on the water and out the blind we went to get into the boat.
My BIL cranked up the motor as my son jumped into the middle seat. I knelt in the bow with my 870 loaded and ready to play Captain Nemo as we pursued our prey. The ringneck, though wounded, dove and swam away on several occasions, popping up all around us in a maddening fashion. As crippled ducks are prone to do, she rose only enough to obtain more air and was gone again often before I could shoot. Determined to not lose my son's first duck, we continued our assault with a vengeance. Finally, after possibly getting lucky with one of the box of shells it seemed we shot at this duck, she was wounded enough for us to come right to her--only for her to vanish again. This time, however, she was unable to dive deep or quickly enough, and I was able to reach below the water, grab her by her foot, and then ring her neck. My son, proudly holding his prize, looked as though he had just won the Super Bowl, the NASCAR cup, the Masters, Wimbeldon, and the Olympics all the same time. Needless to say, it was a very fine day and one that will always remembered by all of us. As were leaving the farm that day before heading home, my son said, "Pop, I just want to live on the farm, shoot ducks, and catch fish every day." I must confess that brought a tear to my eye...and still does.
Thanks for letting me share. Here are a few pics.
First duck
First duck with Daddy
First duck with Pop
Got her!
First duck hunt at the brake with Granddad (my Dad) and me when my son was four
First dove hunt with Pop and me when my son was three
) and is really encouraged and excited to read what folks have written. However, he can't believe I actually wrote that he fell asleep on two different hunts. I told him I had to post it the way it happened. 
Poor guy....oh, well, at least there will never be any way someone will be able to say he does not belong to me.
