Duck Camp Bench

~Duck Camp Fireside Bench

I like doing things people don't expect. Like building them a simple log bench while they're out duck hunting for ducks that aren't there.

A few years ago I was on a semi-annual duck hunting trip with some friends somewhere around Stuttgart, Arkansas-the self proclaimed and duly appointed duck hunting capital of the world. Note: If that's true, there must not be very many ducks everywhere else, because we saw a total of like 9 ducks the past 3 trips. Which brings me back to my story about the log bench....

At the sound of the very loud and substantially annoying early morning alarm clock, everyone crawled slowly out of their respective beds, except for myself. I had decided the night before to sit this one out, so I just sat on the edge of my bunk-bed and watched while my friends scurried around in a frantic effort to get all dolled up (relatively speaking) in the required duck hunting apparel. Watching this event unfold gave the impression my friends were going to war with a one of the many terrorist groups instead of just driving a couple of miles down the road to sit in a duck blind and quietly wait for unsuspecting ducks to fly by so they could whack them-or more precisely, shoot in their general direction. By the time they'd pulled on several layers of clothes and assorted hunting paraphernalia, they had a heck of a time getting their duck hunting waders up over the substantial cotton mass they each now had on, which included everything from camouflaged socks and underpants to hats and flashlights (I could never understand the concept of a camouflaged flashlight, but that's another story). Once the guys were finished playing dress-up and had knocked down substantial quantities of Folger's Dark Roast, they left "duck camp" in a fleet of old pick-up trucks and assorted late model SUV"S, sounding more like an invasion than a mass exodus of mostly over camouflaged good Ol' city boys. After watching them drive off into the cold and damp early morning darkness, I slipped back inside and climbed back into bed. I was soon toasty warm and as I thought of my friends who would soon be trudging through knee deep swamp water and mud in the hopes of a record setting duck day, I dozed off for maybe another hour or so, as memory serves.

When I woke up the second time that morning, I leisurely slipped out of bed and fixed up a nice healthy bacon, egg, and cinnamon-role breakfast and washed it down with several hot cups of heavy pumpkin-spice cream infused coffee (I've since moved into nearly full manhood, drinking my coffee "black as the ace of spades" just like my Granddad Stewart always did), I went outside and milled around "down by the river" enjoying the Mid-South early morning. As I snooped around, I noticed several nice logs that had long ago washed up along the bank, and got the idea I'd make something out of at least one of them. I'd brought along a few of my Swiss made Gransfors Bruks fine cutting instruments in the event I got the urge to put blade to wood. I like to be prepared for anytime a raw wood remanufacturing opportunity might present itself, and I saw this as just such an occassion. I was glad I'd packed my draw knife along with the carving and large felling axes that my Swedish wood loving friends had so carefully and thoughtfully created by hand a few years prior.

After selecting a cyprus log of ample size, I whacked off a nice bench length piece and went to work on it with my draw knife. When I'd finished carving, I drug the necessary quantity of large flat rocks to a good spot adjacent to the boy's fire pit and stacked them in just the right fashion to accept the freshly carved bench log. Later that morning when the guys got back from their non-duck hunt, they were pleasantly surprised to find a new sitting bench located next to the old fire pit. Seeing as how they didn't have any deceased ducks to tend to (Tony did tell me he thought he saw one) they proceeded directly to the bench and started drinking cold beer on it. I must say, it did make a a nice addition to the fireside lying that took place that night.

The following day before we left, camp proprietors Lee and Paul asked if I'd sign the bench. As you can see, I gladly did so and appropriately included Lee's then 3 year old son Jake in the parting salutation.
I'd be interested some day in finding out if the bench made it through the last several duck seasons. I don't know whether or not it did, but based on the average of our numerous Stuttgart duck hunting trip results, I'm guessing most of the ducks did.