Buddy of mine was bad to duck hunt. Eat up with it.
He watched 2 mallards on a city pond most of the fall.
He rolled up one morning and whacked em both with one shot.
He only beat one of his crew to it by about 10 minutes.
An elderly gentleman who lived nearby heard the shot, saw the dead ducks on back of my buddy's truck but couldn't do anything about it since he didn't see it.
He let him know he knew though. But my buddy was a bastard and he didn't feel bad.
I don't hunt with him no more.
Another buddy of mine is straight as an arrow. Wouldn't break a game law for anything. Unless a dern turkey is involved.
He's a deacon and one of the finest humans I've ever known but roads, property lines, dates on calendar, none of that matters when it comes to turkeys.

“Killing tomorrow’s trophies today.”

On the distance I like to walk to my stands:
“The first 100 yards is also the last 100 yards.”