being my father's son

My father didn't have sons
He had daughters stuffed into the role
A size 8 foot in a size 5 shoe
And he was a "man's man"
Spent the winter holding a shotgun
Summer carrying a fishing pole
So it's no wonder that one day
I'd be carrying my own 12 gauge
Down the river in zero degree weather
Freezing my honorary balls off.

I was hunched
under this
thin piece of camo nylon
called a "duck blind"
blowing on my fingers
not giving a thought to what would happen
if a duck actually came into sight
and I had to shoot at it

the dog was ready
he sat still, but bouncy
did as he was ordered

It was a thankfully slow day
nothing crossed the sky
except snow clouds too cold to snow

but then a seagull
so far away it looked like a speck of pepper
came into view
and my father
"What the hell.." God love him
shot the goddamned thing
and hit him

Dog was gone..
first action he saw all day and he was under the bird
as soon as it hit the water
dragged it kicking and squawking
dropped it in front of me
damned thing was still alive

"Shoot it," dad yelled
I couldn't; my gun froze
I couldn't kill a helpless creature
who so wanted to live
so my father shot it instead
looked at me, shook his head

I would never be his son
I would never again want to be
and we both left
disappointed.