It happens to families everywhere. Little Johnny’s parents want him to play the bassoon, but Little Johnny wants to play the drums. You give your kid a grunt call, but they don’t stick with it. You try to explain that subtlety is a virtue, but they’re drawn to sheer volume. You know the grunt will be your kid’s constant companion eventually (and that it’s pretty much the only call you can give them to wail on right now without making your spouse hate you). But it’s no good. The grunt is the bassoon of game calls. No volume. No flash. The second they get their hands on a duck call, crow call, or–God help you–pileated woodpecker call, it’s over. The grunt call winds up on the floor, forgotten, ignored, not even second fiddle–like the one in this video.
Seriously, to my fellow parents, it’s crazy isn’t it? There’s just no end to the amount pleasure you can take from listening to your infant blast away on your game calls. There should be. No doubt about that. But there isn’t.