ST. PETER, Minn — Art Glass peered out over his decoys on the fog-shrouded lake, scanning the dawn sky for ducks.

His large hands cradled an old Remington 870 12 gauge.

Darkness was grudgingly giving way to daylight — the eastern sky glowed a faint orange — and a flock of blue-winged teal knifed through the still, warm air in the distance. Then a volley of shots from a back bay rolled across the little lake like thunder.

It was another duck opener for Glass, who, at age 90 and hobbled with a bad hip, still isn't ready to give up a sport that he loves dearly and that has given him so many fond memories.

“Just to be out here ...” he said, his thought trailing off as he relished the dank smell of the slough, the cattails dripping with dew and the waterfowl winging overhead.

“What a beautiful morning,” replied his son, Tracy, 53, hunkered in the blind next to his dad.

Two wood ducks suddenly appeared over their decoys, and Tracy fired twice, knocking one to the water. “Well, at least we didn't get skunked,” he said after retrieving the bird.

“Just getting out here is enough,” said his dad.

They've been hunting from this spot on Dog Lake for 42 years. Art loved the spot so much, he bought 8 acres of shoreline for a duck hunting camp, and that's where he's mostly hunted waterfowl all these years.

“This is a little paradise out here,” he said.

Art started hunting along the Minnesota River bottoms as a kid growing up in St. Peter. He attended Gustavus Adolphus College, then taught biology there as a professor for 36 years.

“I've been hunting with him since I was 11,” Tracy said.

Watching the sky for ducks, they reminisced about days gone by in their duck camp. “One day, eight buffleheads went by and we got seven of them,” Art said. “There's been a lot of tremendous hunting.”

But there's been more than good shooting. There's been good conversation.

“Everyone should have a father-son bond like we do,” Art said.

Replied Tracy: “I've learned more about you out there than anywhere.”

In recent years, the hunting hasn't been as good. And while there were teal and woodies in the air last Saturday, both hunters said it wasn't like the “good ol' days.”

“This is about as slow as it's been,” Art said.

Art is a former Marine who saw action in the Pacific in World War II. He was a crack shot with a rifle in the Marines — and a deadeye with a shotgun in the duck blind.

“There wasn't anyone who could shoot better than him,” Tracy said.

But at 90, swinging a shotgun — like navigating a slough — is difficult. “I'm the designated water-shooter now,” Art said with a grin.

At 8 a.m., as the sun burned away the last remnants of fog, a wood duck swam into the decoys. Art raised his 12 gauge and fired once, dusting the duck.

“I don't usually miss too many on the water, but you can't brag about that,” Art said.

Said Tracy: “When he turned 80, I said you're old enough to take a duck any way you want.”

But bagging ducks isn't so important anymore.

“I could come out here and just watch this place come to life,” Art said.

He knows that, at his age, he's fortunate to be able to get to a duck hunting blind. Even more important, he's grateful that he and his wife, Gladys, 89, remain sharp mentally. “The wonderful thing is that we still have it upstairs,” he said, pointing to his head. “That's such a blessing.”

He's not sure how he's avoided most of the woes of old age, including dementia and Alzheimer's disease, which afflicted a sister.

“We stay active. My wife and I try to get the most out of every day,” he said. “I have a good outlook on life.”

He meets friends for coffee daily. And their four children, seven grandchildren and three great-grandchildren keep them busy, too.

“I was blessed with a good memory,” he said. And he has a lifetime of memories. “That is a wonderful thing of growing old. We've had such good times.”