BOB KORNEGAY: You have to be a waterfowler to understand

Everybody talks about the weather. It’s a subject upon which everyone has an opinion and always makes a good conversation starter. Ranks right up there with “How’s your mama and them?”

There is one segment of society, though, that discusses meteorological phenomena in ways completely foreign to run-of-the-mill humanity. This is the crowd that shoots waterfowl for sport. There can be no argument that their weather opinions are not unique, which translates to the majority as weird, even bordering on insane. I say that not to offend, but with sincere understanding. As a once-avid waterfowler myself, I have also discussed weather in ways that motivated friends and acquaintances to walk away shaking their heads.

Where waterfowlers are concerned, there are two types of atmospheric animations. One is “weather.” The other is “WEATHER.” To a waterfowler, the lower-case variety is good, which is to say, bad, or not good. WEATHER, on the other hand, is bad, which to a waterfowler is decidedly good.

If that’s confusing, you are doubtless not a waterfowler.

If you aren’t a duck or goose hunter yourself and decide to engage one in run-of-the-mill weather conversation, chances are you will be totally ignored or, more likely, cussed out. You see, waterfowlers have no interest in “weather.” In fact, they hate it. A duck hunter wants to talk about “weather” like he wants to talk about ballet or opera.

Weather (lower case) conjures up images of blue skies, gentle breezes, balmy temperatures, and the melodious chirping of songbirds. This weather brings out sparrows, bluebirds, and other wimpy creatures that hold no interest for a self-respecting waterfowler. It matters not that it also brings out loose-topped, bikini-clad sunbathers. True waterfowlers are totally dedicated and never think of such mundane things, at least not during duck season.

If you refer to weather as “nice”, “good”, or (heaven forbid) “lovely”, a waterfowler is likely to break your nose or else order you a frozen daiquiri or sour apple martini. Neither ducks, geese, nor the spirits of real waterfowlers fly during weather preceded by any of the aforementioned adjectives.

“WEATHER,” on the other hand, is something else again. Talk about “WEATHER” and you’re speaking a dedicated waterfowler’s language. He will throw his arm around your shoulders in masculine camaraderie and treat you to the bitter ale of your choice or a straight-up glass of the finest ardent libation on hand.

WEATHER (upper case) means steel-gray, low-hanging clouds, 30-mph winds, sub-zero temperatures, and driving squalls of rain, sleet, and, in the right geographic locale, snow. WEATHER means big waves that swamp little boats. WEATHER is a he-man event for he-man species like big Canada geese, macho mallards, and gale-driven canvasbacks. Bluebirds, sparrows, and normal people hurriedly seek the nearest shelter during such conditions. WEATHER, in other words, means “I wonder which country’s Coast Guard will eventually find the body and notify the family?”

Waterfowlers are passionate about WEATHER and the prospect of discussing it brings tears of joy and nostalgia to their eyes.

Residing in the Deep South, I personally don’t experience much WEATHER during the course of a duck season. That fact was once quite painful and my genuine envy of waterfowlers who get WEATHER on a regular basis was obvious to anyone who knew me. It’s extremely difficult to sit on the porch of a lakefront cottage during a dreaded stretch of “weather” and gaze wistfully toward the horizon.

Take today, for instance. I can’t see a thing out there except a moored pontoon boat laden with half-naked females. Ah, such a poor substitute for nine layers of clothing and scalding coffee spilled on frostbitten fingers. To top it off, the bluebirds and sparrows are driving me crazy with their sickeningly sweet singing. Just when I think things can’t get any worse, here comes my wife, who thinks I’m looking at the pontoon-boat passengers because I enjoy it. She can’t be convinced the binoculars are for incoming duck flights.

Ah well, I guess some of us just gotta take our WEATHER where we find it.

Did I mention I’m not as avid a waterfowler as I used to be?