THE BIG SHOOT

You’d think, with all my ill-spent time on newspapers and shooting sports for my books, that I might have gained some talent for with a camera, but except for a lucky shot now and then, no talent developed.

There was, however, one big day.

When Jean and I had a kayak, we especially liked to paddle up Walker Creek. We’d launch at Nick’s Cove and then find the channel through the sand flats at the mouth of the creek. With good timing we could ride the tide up the creek and then come back out when the ebb began.

These were the days when I liked to dream of being a nature photographer. What Hemingway did with a gun in Africa, I would do with a camera in West Marin. And indeed, you can get very close to birds in a kayak, so for these voyages, I would hang my camera with it’s impressive 120 millimeter lens around my neck. I at least looked like a pro.

On the way up creek during this particular day, we had fun with a great blue heron. We would creep up, paddling softly and snapping pictures until he flew further on for us to sneak up on him again.

Leap-frogging thus, we made an exciting up-creek journey, and before we knew it, reached a barrier of overhanging willows that barred further progress. We were about to turn back when I spotted some ducks bobbing in the shade of the trees.

I whispered and pointed. We began stalking them. Jean paddled gently. I snapped pictures. My fear was that the loud clunk, clunk, clunk of the focal-plane shutter on my old F2 Nikon would flush the birds too soon, but they seemed oblivious to the sound and to us.

There were four of them – mallards, I guessed from their size. We edged closer. I believed I was getting some breath-taking pictures, but I wanted to be ready when they flew, imagining how the glitter of tormented water and the birds, wings blurred in flight and reaching desperately for the sky, would make a prize-winning photo.

Then the light dawned. These “ducks” were hunters’ decoys that had broken free and drifted up with other flotsam to float in their leafy cul de sac.

Well, a good photographer knows how to make the best of a bad thing. We hauled the decoys into the boat, took them back to Inverness Park where a duck-hunter friend bought the lot for $20.

It was my best day with a camera.

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