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Disco Ducks

The best stuff happens on the edge, when what you know and where you’ve been shape your now, just before the moment moves on.

By Robert Parvin Williams

The guide loads the last of the decoys in the sled, cranks the ATV and heads into the darkness.  His headlights dip and disappear over the horizon, and suddenly it’s just the stars, the aurora and me.  The aurora isn’t doing fireworks tonight, more a pulse, big heartbeat bursts that fill the sky, a light machine playing synchronized solos to an empty club.  Inuit disco, I think, then I realize I know the song and it’s not disco at all.  Early 1970’s, the Georgia Tech Coliseum, a mirror ball spinning from the ceiling and it’s Freebird, the part where Allen Collins downshifts his guitar and drives the song into the ionosphere.  I’m singing in my head, really wailing, and the sky is pounding white light and I’m thinking, This is why you hunt ducks in freaking Canada.

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