Expectations run high in the minds of outdoorsmen, especially the day before a season opens. Sometimes these high hopes can be shattered by the following days’ weather conditions.

This past Sunday was one of those days for my hunting crew, The Quack Assassins. We live to waterfowl hunt, and enjoy bringing family and friends along for the experience. It was just one of those days you keep repeating, these days are what makes the good ones that much better.

Hopes were running high, as with every first day of September goose season. We were unable to locate birds the night before, which tells you where to set up in the morning. Typically, geese return to the field you saw them in the previous evening. We had concerns that the birds may not show up, but had hopes other hunters would push them in our direction.

We met at my place at 5 a.m., and headed to a green field to set up. On the way through the field, my friend Jared Meek's son Evan commented that his legs were soaked. We had walked less than 80 yards, and the wet grass had already drenched our legs. We set up as quickly as possible, due to hoards of mosquitoes’ relentless mobbing. We lit our thermal bug repellents and got into our layout blinds, which cover your entire body. Without this system, we would be run out of the field before the birds started to fly.

The sun began to rise, and it looked to be the beginning of a good hunt. As the minutes turned into hours without even hearing anything, our expectations began to dwindle. The typical conversation on days like these tends to revolve around two topics: The first is where the target species could be, and if and when they will show up. The second is reminiscing upon the successful hunts of the past. We enjoyed the morning with many stories laughs and jokes until it became apparent that we were wasting our time.