The Duck Commandments
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Sleep ends at 4:30 a.m., two hours before sunrise, with the January air flirting with freezing.
Clad in waders, jackets and hats, four Robertsons father Phil and sons Jase, Willie and Jep and their friend John Godwin pile into trucks to drive to the nearby marsh, charging through sloppy mudhole tire-canyons the last few hundred yards.
They load a skiff and motor the short distance to the floating duck blind, like a military bunker hidden in ...
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