Sitting on a flooded-out beaver swamp last Saturday, a pile of wood ducks on the blind floor, my cell phone went off with a text from my good buddy Mike Bard. He was a couple hundred miles away for the youth season, hunting with his son Zach. Few people are as dedicated to waterfowl hunting as Mike. He built a barn just to hold his 10,000-plus decoys, two boats, and small fleet of ATVs, trailers, blinds, guns, and gear. Zach had just shot his first bird, a drake wood duck, and had joined his father’s fraternity.