Column: Crashing waves of doubt
I arrive at the spot, I’m as silent and sneaky as I can be, I muster the best calls I can when I feel it is time to call, then about 10:30, I start to feel it. It seems like the good hours have once again passed and if it hasn’t happened by now, it’s not going to.
Ridiculous of course, but I know there’s a team of buddies stacking the gutless bodies of everything from forkies to four-points onto the back deck of a seiner. Someone else sat down and before she could take a sip of coffee after blowing the call, was almost run over by a hard-charging rut buck. One guy called in two bucks while another called three, both were out done by the dude who called in four, at one time. Then there’s the 17-year old who opened a can of Monster, to which a 5×5 with 3 eye guards responded, and proceeded to walk in sideways to maintain a broadside pose. It will all be posted by the time I’m eating dinner, wishing my burger was backstrap.
