On a very cold December morning, I could hear the woodducks in the slew next to me whistling away all morning long. At about 7:25 they spook and fly overhead. Then this bad boy walks out in a thicket about 100 yards away. I see him here and there in the palmetto, and can't get a shot. I get nervous when he turns to walk away and blew my grunt call. He turned back my direction and finally gave me an opportunity for a shot. The rest is history.