FIRST LIGHT FLIGHT
- Katie Lowe
- Oct 27
- 4 min read
An excerpt from Always Game by Christi Elliott
Blowing a duck call
Photo credit: Melissa Goodwin
I DON'T CONSIDER MYSELF a good duck hunter, but I don’t let that stop me from chasing ducks. The only sound I can make through a duck call is a single "quack," and I hunt with a Brittany, not a retriever. Then again, I’m not your average hunter.
One early morning, my headlamp dangled around my neck, because the moon shone so brightly, I didn’t need it as I walked across a marsh near Machias, toward the ocean. I love hunting in Washington County. It’s about the size of Connecticut but with only thirty thousand residents and three stop lights. Downeast is sparsely developed, and the ducks are not pressured by hunters. Although it was a frigid fifteen degrees, I was starting to sweat. I slowed down. I was wearing bulky men’s neoprene waders, carrying a layout blind on my back, a backpack on my chest, and my Beretta shotgun slung over my shoulder. In my arms I carried a small blind for Argos. I didn’t want to sweat in those temperatures because once I stopped moving, the sweat would chill me.
I reached the spot I wanted to hunt in the small tidal cove and surveyed the water. A trickle of fast-moving water cut through the middle of the cove. I looked at my watch. One hour until legal hunting, ninety minutes until sunrise. It was an incoming tide and the marsh would soon hold enough water to attract ducks. Perfect. Outside the cove, the open ocean was calm. A slight breeze from the north annoyingly blew my hair across my face. I plopped everything I was carrying down in the grass and dug a few black duck decoys out of my backpack. I slopped through the mud in the cove and tossed them out. In an hour they would be floating. This area of Maine has one of the world’s largest tides.
I quickly locked the pieces of my blind together and set up Argos’ blind as well. I angled them toward the decoys. I gathered handfuls of marsh grass and tucked them into the sides of our blinds to help camouflage us. I continued brushing in our blinds until I heard quacks and looked up to see ducks flying overhead. I checked my watch again—fifteen minutes until legal. Unlike geese, which “sleep in,” ducks start flying early, often before legal hunting time. Legal hunting time for the entire state is thirty minutes before sunrise in central Maine, but because I was much further east, the sun rises earlier, and thus the ducks fly earlier. I gave Argos the command, “Kennel” and he begrudgingly entered his blind. Although Argos loves pointing birds, he does not retrieve by instinct. But his instinct to freeze and be quiet around live birds is an excellent trait for waterfowl hunting, and he retrieves ducks with some coaxing.
I laid down in my layout blind and folded the doors down above me. I pulled on my facemask and laid with my 12-gauge down my lap, pointing toward the decoys. I wrestled with impatience and boredom and am tempted to reach for my phone to text and scroll and click. My normal workdays are full of hustle, bustle, and to-do lists. But while hunting, I must remain present, in the moment, ready for anything. The sky turned shades of watermelon and lavender. I realized with shame, that I would likely never watch the sunrise if I didn’t hunt.
I love hunting alone. It forces me to make every decision—where to set up, when to call, when to shoot. There’s no one to blame, and no one to shoot the duck I missed on my first shot, which means I always get a second and third shot.
A pair of black ducks landed in the decoys, and I dug through the layers on my wrist to check my watch. Seven minutes until legal. They flew off, with a few quacks, nervous about the unmoving decoys.
It was almost time, and I loaded my Beretta. My eyes scanned the horizon, with my finger on the safety should a duck fly into shotgun range. I appreciated this quiet moment, reconnecting with nature. For a brief time, I partook in what humans have done for millennia and become a player in this wild world.
Then suddenly I sat up, which pushed the doors of my blind open, and fired my gun at a low, quick-flying bufflehead. My second shot found the bird.
“Fetch!” I told Argos, and he leapt into the frigid sea toward the downed drake. Our morning was off to a good start.
Christi and Argos
Photo credit: Christi Elliott
Always Game is out on October 28, 2025.
Book Launch Events:
Christi Elliott and Islandport Press are throwing the book launch party of the year. Come one, come all to Maine Beer Co. to meet Christi, and hear her and writer and fellow Islandport author Ryan Brod share some wild tales from woods and waters.
November 3rd, 2025
Maine Beer Co. Rt 1, Freeport, ME
Join author Christi Elliott and Islandport Press for the celebration of her new memoir, Always Game. The chefs at The Villager Cafe have created a special wild game tasting menu inspired by the book.
Nov 20, 2025, 5:30 PM – 7:30 PM
The Villager Cafe, 25 Mechanic St, Camden
