In the 1950s, a fisherman wakes up on Christmas Day and kisses his wife goodbye to take their thirteen-year-old son and fifteen-year-old nephew duck hunting. His wife often feels lonely in his presence, though she does not want him to go. A tough man, he commands the boys and leaves anyway. They get in a skiff and ride it out to the ledge. There, the boys and father shoot ducks. They collect nearly a hundred by the end of the day and put them in the skiff. Anchored in the lee of Brown Cow Island, they eat. The father laments that he did not bring his tobacco, though he does have a bottle of whiskey. After lunch, the fisherman goes out to find the skiff but realizes he did not anchor it properly. It is too far downstream for him to get to it; they are stranded. The boys and fisherman take turns shooting rounds into the sky in intervals, hoping someone will notice their cries for help. It gets dark and begins snowing. The father holds the dog as the water rises above the children's ankles. He did not tell his wife he would be back by a certain time, so she is not expecting them. The tide continues coming in and soon it is too dark to see. The father can no longer hold the dog and puts him down in the water, telling his son the dog will find his own way. He puts his son on his back. The boy calls out for his cousin but does not hear a response. He does not call again. The father tells his son that when the water rises above his hip boots, he will have to let his son go, and the boy should swim to the island. The next day, a rescue team is sent for the fisherman and boys. They find the skiff five miles downstream. After looking for the boys for hours, they take the body of the fisherman back to his wife. She looks at the body of her husband, one boot frozen in his clenched arm.