The creation of an art piece is like pulling your soul and sitting it in front of you and molding it. You never exactly know how it will turn out. As an artist, you picture how the piece should be formed and work it until completion. So many turns. So many strokes to make it. So much detail. So much knowledge. So much history. All of it coming to bare on a single event.
The event of Beaver Pond Woody finds its roots deep in my memories, of a time when I first fell in love with duck hunting. We had stumbled on this little beaver pond and the air just exploded. I had never hunted ducks. Quail, Deer, Rabbits, but no ducks. I had only heard stories about duck hunting from my dad and watching that water come to life just mesmerized me.
So it was on my first duck hunt to this little pond. We couldn’t afford waders so I waded out into the pond in jeans. I almost froze to death and on that morning, I spent way more time just looking at ducks than shooting them. I was just enamored with the woodducks as they would fly and dart through oak trees that found themselves flooded thanks to the ingenuity of beavers.
I shot quite a lot on that day and missed mostly. When finally hitting my target, I literally swam out in the water to get it. It was a drake woody and I was forever hooked!