Turn your front stoop into a hunting blind

I gotta admit I hit a patch of particularly creative thinking on this one. I was out for a ramble across the back forty yesterday when I happened across a hunting blind on the south west corner of the woodlot. It resembled a small tent, but fully decked out in cammo, with multiple zip-down windows, and a couple of chairs inside. I’m pretty sure it’s the handiwork of a hunting party of youngsters who’d asked permission to hunt turkeys on my property recently. I’m generally copasetic with those requests, with the quid pro quo being make sure something finds its way into my freezer after hunting season. This arrangement has worked out reasonably well for all concerned. The lads had built their blind in one of the most opportune locations on the property. From the corner of the woodlot they’ve got a view that goes from the Meaford tank range on the other side of Owen Sound bay, all the way round to the marsh at the north end of Bass Lake. Not that they’re gonna see any turkeys at the Meaford tank range, but it’s a nice view, especially if you’re settling into your blind in the pre-dawn hours and Meaford has some night-time live-fire exercises going on. But it’s out of the marsh at the north end of Bass Lake where the hunting action will come from. And there’s only one place on the entire property where you’ve got a better shot at the marsh. My front stoop. All I need to do is drape the stoop in cammo, and I’m good to go! Here’s a partial list of what I had a shot at during a four hour window Saturday afternoon. Instead of just sitting on the stoop with a gluten-free beer and my vape, I could have ducked behind the cammo curtain with my glutten-free beer and my vape and my Benelli side by side, and had a clear shot at: 1 bald eagle 1 blue heron 3 trumpeter swans 2 sandhill cranes half a dozen ducks several dozen geese. one turkey wandering across the lawn which may have been a peahen rather than a turkey. The astute reader will realize not all of the above are considered “table birds,” but here’s the thing. I’m not a hunter, but I have profound respect for the locals who take their teenagers out at deer season and teach them to field-dress a deer right out there in the woods. When the shit hits the fan, and Communist China collapses our power grid, and Loblaws and Foodland and all the rest of them have been shuttered for a month, the local hunters are going to keep me and my clan alive.