Hunting With Jim & John

As told to: Glenda Salley

I was less than excited to be up early on that cold December morning for my first duck hunt. My brother-in-law Jimmy Gammill showed up at the house in Drew with my incentive, a steaming cup of coffee. I could tell by his demeanor there was no time to be wasted in getting to ”the spot.” When we arrived at John Clark’s farmhouse, we found him checking the day’s weather on the computer. It looked like a good morning to go to the break. Jimmy and John had explained previously that on a clear day, hunting was best in the breaks, but open fields were preferred on a cloudy day.

Traveling to “the spot” took some effort. We had driven there by 3-wheeler and suited up in waders; mine were borrowed from Jimmy, who is well over 6 feet. I looked pitifully like a little boy wearing his big brother’s hunting gear, and when I put the waders on, they hit embarrassingly under my armpits. The bigger shoe size swallowed up my smaller feet, making my walking a comical spectacle.

We finally arrived at “the spot” and started our march to the break, wading in waist-deep water—well, to my waist. We found a nearly submerged log, where we perched and visited. I discovered that male bonding during the waiting time is the main reason why guys go hunting.

When the sun started lighting the horizon, the boys became more agitated, carefully scanning the skies for ducks. As the birds began to circle, Jimmy and John made ridiculous sounding birdcalls. I had always wondered whether those artificial sounds work. Boy, did it make a believer out of me! In amazement, I watched the ducks zooming in at an incredible rate of speed. That’s when the shooting began. I really wanted to watch the birds land, but I didn’t have much of a chance. As the morning continued to unfold, and the sun’s rays became bolder, I asked permission to leave them so that I could get some photographs. Without hesitation, they agreed because they really wanted me to have a good hunt too.

As I walked around, I had the strange sensation of a cool wetness covering my feet. It was then that I realized that my borrowed waders were leaking. When I yelled to Jimmy about my problem, he replied with a snicker that they might have been dry rotted. Thankfully, it was not a frigid day. Despite the soggy footgear, I captured on film some of the neatest sunrise photos I had ever taken. I used a great deal of film that day, photographing the sun as it came up most impressively through the cypress trees.

My walk had taken me in front of my friends. I was startled when I heard the boys holler to stand completely still. Immediately I froze to the spot, hearing the squawking of duck callers. Looking down in the still water, I could see the reflection of many ducks circling above. Suddenly there was a barrage of shooting overhead, and ducks “rained” all around me. What an unbelievable experience! As we left “the spot” to wander back through the woods, I trailed behind to snap a few shots of the successful hunt. Maybe one day that photo will also be a painting.

During that hunt, I noticed a cypress stand, and I immediately visualized a long painting of trees with filtered sun seeping through their limbs into a watery reflection. When I later began this painting, it filled me with such a rush of excitement that I carried my early efforts to Arlyn Moeller, a good friend and one of my best critics. I had always known him to be one who never spared the truth in order to be kind. Arlyn really liked what he had seen even though he understood that this piece was incomplete. However, the shadows bothered him; they seemed wrong because of their downward slant. I explained my point to Arlyn-- reflections go straight down, and radiating shadows are made from one light source (in this instance, the sun). Arlyn, convinced that the sun could not create this effect from such a distance, was adamant in his opinion. To substantiate my point, I had to consult a reference work for proof. Finally, though not easily, he conceded.

Another point of interest concerning “Cypress I” was an overabundance in limited color usage. Though I pared down my palette to only a few colors, the resulting tones made the piece appear amazingly effortless in its subtlety. Keeping things simple is an important principle to remember.

I was almost ready to paint, anxious to recreate the water, and I got “wet” feet--HA! I was fearful of messing up the rest of the work. Remembering that I was in control, I dove right in-- HA again, because I was so pleased with the outcome! I laid a thin wash over the reflections to encourage a shinny light. After I finished the work, I carried it back to Arlyn for his approval, and he judged it too perfect to sell to a stranger. He could not face the fact that I would sell this special piece, so he bought himself. I hope now that whenever Arlyn gazes into the cypress break, he vicariously feels himself sloshing through the frigid waters as I had once done that cold December morning.