Great story, Stan.
Expresses well the magic of the wet and cold game, and why we go back as long as well may. I knew two lifelong fellow waterfowlers, who in the fullness of their alloted span, breathed their last in a duck blind under the open sky, holding a shotgun, with a dog to hand. When the time is run out, I can't think of better ending to the retirement years.
As for duck and flavor, I finally came to developing the fine art of hanging them to age. It requires a real leap of faith and some amount of courage to try the process -- including some memorable failures. However, between aging and marinades, even mergansers can be brought to at least the level of savory browned stew cubes. As well, the better ducks are improved for the process.
However, only experience convinced me, and I have no optomism of anyone trying it just on my anecdotal evidence. In which event, just breast out what you harvest and send to 'em to me on dry ice, overnite express. ;~`)
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but it's probably illegal here. 