The Dropped Glove

Years ago, Mike McGee and I were hunting out of one of Whitfield's blinds on the Pamlico River. To prevent storm damage to the blinds he built, he only framed them in, then nailed a heavy fence wire on as the sides and floor. He tied grass to the sides and carried a couple pieces of plywood out hunting with him to throw down on the wire for someplace to stand.

Well, McGee and I didn't take any plywood, because we never knew which blind, or where we would be hunting. We just stood on the floor joists and tried not to fall through the wire floor.

Anyhow, this one particular day was cold and windy and miserable. A great duck day. We started shooting shortly after daylight and were killing Bluebills and Scoter in alarming numbers. I was doing something and took off one of my gloves and it dropped through the wire floor and fell into the water beneath the blind. It was the first Gortex-Thinsulate pair of gloves I was ever able to afford and I didn't want to lose it. I shouted for McGee (who was hunting on the end with the door) to please jump out real quick and retrieve my glove before it sank or floated away.

He hopped out and grabbed my glove. Before he could climb back into the blind, a flock of Bluebills came by and I killed a triple. He cussed me for half an hour over that. Pretty much in good fun, but I could tell he was a little upset. After a while, I saw another nice flock of 'Bills coming our way. I pulled off my other glove and threw it through the floor and hollered for him to grab it for me. He grinned and said sorry, then came up shooting.

I eventually rescued the glove and we both had a good laugh over it. I had some really cold, wet hands, but at the time it was a good joke.