For most people, Thanksgiving means waking up late, putting on stretchy pants, and pretending to help in the kitchen while secretly just “taste testing.”
But for my family? Oh no. We like to kick off the holiday by disappearing into the woods like a pack of confused wilderness raccoons.
Duck hunting on Thanksgiving isn’t just a hobby — it’s a full-blown tradition. And honestly, more families should adopt it, because nothing bonds people like freezing your toes off together before sunrise.
Step 1: Enter the Woods Like You Know What You’re Doing
We pile into the truck with snacks, gear, and enough caffeine to power a small city. Someone always claims they “know a shortcut,” which is how we usually end up walking 20 minutes in the wrong direction before somebody finally admits we’re lost.
Step 2: Set Up Camp and Pretend We’re Outdoorsy
We stay the night out there like we’re contestants on some low-budget survival show. We cook chicken noodle soup over the fire — the kind that somehow tastes ten times better just because we risked our eyebrows lighting it.
There’s always a bag of snacks that gets mysteriously emptied. No one claims responsibility… but I have my suspicions.
Step 3: Try to Relax, But Remember… The Woods Are Weird
Everyone’s laughing, telling stories, trying not to burn their marshmallows. Then there’s my brother — my little monkey — who decides the ground is apparently too ordinary for him.
Nope. This boy will climb anything.
Tree? He’s up it.
Log? He’s balanced on it.
Anything higher than five feet? He’s on top of it like he’s auditioning for a Planet of the Apes reboot.
So of course, at some point in the night, I look around and realize:
He’s gone.
Poof. Missing. Just like socks in the dryer.
I’m ready to call in a search party, start writing up a missing persons report… until I look up.
There he is.
Knocked. Out.
Asleep in a tree like some overgrown forest squirrel.
I swear, if he ever goes missing for real, I’m skipping the police and heading straight for the nearest tall object.
Step 4: Wake Up at an Hour No Human Should See
The ducks aren’t even awake yet and here we are, stumbling around like zombies with camo on. But there’s something about those early morning whispers, the sound of the woods waking up, and the quiet excitement that makes it all worth it.
Step 5: Remember Why It Matters
Between the laughs, the soup, the fire smell in our clothes, the snacks we pretend we didn’t eat, and the brother I keep having to retrieve from tree branches… it’s perfect.
It’s messy. It’s chaotic. It’s pure family.
That’s why duck hunting on Thanksgiving should be a tradition — not because you come home with ducks (half the time we come home with NOTHING), but because you come home with stories.
And honestly? I’ll take that every time.
