Late on a cold Thursday afternoon on the upper reaches of the Trinity river, Greg my hunting buddy and I had been watching hundreds of mallards flying into this small flat just off the main river channel. We knew it would be an easy sneak through the thick brush. We had beached the boat a couple hundred yards away and started the stalk. I don't know why I turned around to check the boat, but it was on its way back to the main river. Everything was in it, towels, matches, hot chocolate, etc. If it made it to the main current we were in big trouble that long cold night. We ran back the 50 yards we had covered and I began to strip. The air was about 36 degrees and the water no more than 40. The blood in the body rushes back to the vital organs almost instantly when you jump into very cold water. The heart feels like it will explode trying to push the blood back to the extremities. It was the longest short swim of my life. I climbed back into the john boat and sat my bear butt on the aluminum seat. To say it was cold is not even close. I started the engine and ran the boat back to shore. I dried off, put my clothes back on and drank all the hot chocolate. I put my waders on and did jumping jacks until the shivering stopped. That was almost an hour. We tied the boat off and started our stalk again. The mallards held tight and on the flush we almost managed our limit. Another 30 minutes and a few more groups of birds and we were headed back with 9 green heads and 1 hen.

 We hunted that spot for the rest of the season managing alot of greenheads and blue and green winged teal. And, each time both of us would make sure the boat did not drift off again. God I loved those days!