C • A • N • V • A • S • B • A • C • K • S
AN D THE FABULOU S DU CK PICKING MACHINE
MMy father taught me to fish with a split bamboo rod and a little
B Y R O B E R T R E H D E R
Penn No. 9 reel on the surf near a jetty in front of our house on
Shearwater Street at Wrightsville Beach. We happily caught bluefish,
puppy drum and flounder. But he didn’t hunt so I knew little of
hunting until one particular day that is forever seared in my memory.
My dad had a florist shop on Dawson Street in Wilmington and
on Saturdays I would occasionally ride to work with him, especially
at Christmas when the store was decorated for the holidays and
buzzing with activity. He had a big commercial cooler that held
fresh cut flowers that came each morning from the fields and green-houses
in Castle Hayne.
The scent of those beautiful flowers — gladiolus, snap dragons,
carnations and lilies — was like magic in the cold air, and so I
would sneak into the cooler from time to time, and he would fuss
at me if I left the door open.
On a visit one Christmas season when I was about 10, I went
into the cooler and there among the vases of flowers was a strange
wooden box. The box held four drake canvasback ducks, a gift
delivered that morning from my father’s friend Dan Cameron.
At the time I’m not sure I even knew they were ducks, much less
prized canvasbacks, but I recall the moment like it was yesterday.
I was fascinated as I held one of the lovely birds with its gorgeous
burgundy and silver herringbone plumage and its clean, wild scent.
My father said I could ride on the next delivery and take them to
Robert Rehder with speckled trout from Mason’s Inlet in 1975. Rehder and his son, Kyle, duck hunting together in 2009.
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WBM october 2019
PHOTOS COURTESY OF ROBERT REHDER