It was just before dawn, and a cold fog hung over the marshes below Klamath Falls, Ore. Two men squatted in a crude blind. At 6:23 a.m., a flight of canvasback ducks wheeled confidently in. Muttered one of the men: "They got wrist watches on ... they know it's too early for shooting." The hunters inhaled cigarettes, took a nip from a bottle of bourbon, and waited.
At 6:43, official sunrise time, they squared off like an alert antiaircraft crew—one watching the sky to the south, the other to the north. A few minutes...
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