My Louisiana

Garrett Laws
My Louisiana

Hunting and fishing in Louisiana is much more than just a hobby; it is a way of life. My Louisiana takes place in the southeast. The Mississippi River which dumps millions of gallons of fresh water into the Gulf of Mexico every year creates a perfect mixture for some of the best fishing and hunting in the United States. The marshes, shallow ponds and outlets from the river, as well as the shores of the Gulf coast, truly preserves Louisiana’s “Sportsman’s Paradise.” Venice, Louisiana, which is where my hunting and fishing camp is located, is my home away from home.

Venice, Louisiana is the last town accessible by a car along the Mississippi river. For Many Louisianans, it is not only the bottom of the Louisiana boot, it is the bottom of the world because there is absolutely no need to go anywhere further. It is the only place where you can make an outstanding duck hunt in the morning, catch a limit of redfish in the afternoon, then catch countless speckled trout while night fishing all in the exact same area. However, before the onslaught occurs, paradise begins at Venice Marina, where the car you drive will not turn a single head but rather the boat you float. Two 250 horsepower Suzuki engines behind the hull of a 35 foot Twin Vee Catamaran trumps a Porsche 911 or a Cadillac on any day of the week. For every trip to the camp, there has always been Venice Marina.

Trips to the camp usually start on Friday afternoons. After the hour and a half drive and thirty minute boat ride to the camp, the sun has usually begun to set. Watching the sun set over the water is quite unlike anything else I have ever seen. It encompasses Louisiana’s rugged beauty that is captured in few places. Nights are spent around the camp fire under countless stars which cannot be seen when near the bright lights of the city. Time seems to slow down here as all the worries of the real world instantly fade away. While the nights in Venice certainly capture its beauty, once 4:00am rolls around and the morning sun rises, the ruggedness of Louisiana shows its true colors.

Although tackle boxes, ice chests, and fishing poles crowd the boat most of the year, decoys, shell buckets, pirogues and guns for duck hunting weigh down the boat between the months of October and January. The language barriers and manners which are adamantly upheld and preserved between father and son somehow evaporate and are replaced with vulgarity and crudeness. While I love the hunting and fishing with all of my heart and soul, my reason for spending so much time at the camp is hardly the food we kill and catch. Rather, my happiness from those activities stems from the mere chance to spend precious time with my family. However odd this sounds, some of my greatest memories are in the duck blind with dad to my left and BJ, my brother, to my right.