Okay, so I'm prone to look at the glass half empty. Still, there was no denying the fact that what my cohort was proposing was going to be flat-out tough--literally. "I'm not sure," I told my gunning partner, Dave Fountain, "how exactly we're going to hide on that."

"That" was a cut soybean field, a 100-acre expanse with just a touch more cover available than the top of a pool table. But a hundred or so Canadas had been hitting the field religiously for the past two mornings.

"I hate to let 'em go unmolested," said Fountain, leering out the passenger window at the birds. "Maybe those fancy new blinds of yours can get us out there?" I shook my head, uncertain.

An hour and a half before sunrise the next morning found us on what we agreed would be the X. All around, scores of grayish-white feathers pointed toward an avian nirvana--if, that was, we could get hidden. After placing our eight full-body decoys, Fountain and I readied the low-profile blinds we'd packed in.

Though the blinds had been muddied prior to the season, we began rubbing them liberally with handfuls of Iowa farm ground. Next, using what little bean chaff was available, we filled every other stubble strap, trying to soften any unnatural edges. Done, I stepped back to survey our handiwork.

"They look like a couple of anthills on a dirty parking lot," I said, "but it's the only thing we've got."

Fountain, I thought, was annoyed by my pessimism.

Fifteen minutes into shooting time, the first black line of birds appeared over the river to the east. Beside me, Fountain wrist-jigged a T-Flag once, then again, until he was sure that the line had wavered and the birds' attention was his. By the time the flock had hit Highway 1, my calling had backed down to quiet clucks and moans. Any minute now, those birds are gonna slide, I thought. Closer they came--150 yards, then 100, then 75.

With the birds at 30 yards, Fountain, lead man for the morning, broke the morning calm with a hearty, "Get 'em!"

Instantly, drop-leg Canadas began to frantically backpedal, strong pinions whistling as they ripped into the cold November air. My first load of high-velocity BBs crumpled a huge bird on the far left edge of the flock, but who knows where round two went. Flustered, I punched the trigger as the barrel passed by a tail-end Charlie, and I smiled as I watched him fold.

"Let's pick up. I'm done." Fountain, a tremendous wingshooter, had gone through his two-bird limit in as many rounds. "And you said we couldn't hide out here in the middle of nowhere," he gently chided as he closed the doors on his blind and started out toward the first of his limit. "Nothing like lying flat on your back in the middle of nowhere and disappearing."

LEARNING CURVE As far as I'm concerned, low-profile blinds--or layout blinds, as they're often called--got their start the minute the first waterfowler laid himself down in a muddy field and covered up with whatever was at hand. It was a technique that worked, but it didn't take long before hunters grew tired of lying on their backs in the mud. There had to be a way, many thought, to retain this low-profile characteristic while staying--heaven forbid--comfortable and dry.

A good blind is one that's easy to carry into the field. With a little practice, most can be set up in just a few seconds.

Ron Latschaw was one of the many. An Oregon native, Latschaw was accustomed to spending his time carving holes out of the soggy soil of the Pacific Northwest and then lying in them.

Yes, he and his partners killed geese, but he'll be the first to tell you all that digging and filling got old in a hurry. And then there were the fields that were full of geese that the landowner was more than happy to give Latschaw and his crew permission to hunt, with one major stipulation: no digging. Fence lines and above-ground box blinds worked for a while, but the geese soon grew wary of these.

Not willing to give up, Latschaw created the Adam and Eve of the low-profile blind revolution. At first, these prototypes, though effective, were big and heavy. Plywood construction contributed to the weight, and all the unnatural straight edges and corners made the blinds stand out too much in the field.

Over time, plywood gave way to rugged Cordura nylon and a lightweight frame of tubular steel, and then aluminum. In 1993, the modern low-profile layout blind was finally born and Latschaw's flagship creation--the Eliminator by Final Approach--was introduced to the waterfowling community. Today, Latschaw's blinds and others like them have become mainstays among the nation's duck and goose hunters.

Why do these low-profile blinds work? For insight, I asked three-time Tennessee state duck calling champ Bill Cooksey, who is also the public relations frontman for Memphis-based Avery Outdoors. Cooksey spends a lot of time hunkered down in modern low-profile blinds from September through January. As a result, he's come to know what makes these blinds so productive.

In certain circles, it's said that waterfowl, though having extraordinary vision, possess little or no depth perception. The result is that, to a goose, the hump on the ground that is the low-profile blind appears as a two-dimensional spot of nothingness. True, or false?

"I'm not sure I buy into the argument that geese have no depth perception," says Cooksey. "This depth perception may not be the same depth perception that we have, but then again, I've tripped over camouflaged ground blinds in the field. If they're built right and don't have a boxy look to them, your eyes don't pick them up as easily, even from ground level."

All low-profile blinds angle toward the ground, especially in the front, which is the direction you'll typically have birds approaching from. From the rear, blinds often have a boxy shape to them due to their square backs. This shape is a dead giveaway to birds that the spot they see on the ground is not natural. But the slope built in the front of the blind helps it blend into the surrounding area.

One thing that can nullify this natural camoflauging effect is the presence of shadows.

"There can't be any shadows," says Cooksey. "Shadows are the main enemy of the ground blind. If you have a ground blind that's throwing a bad shadow out front, you're going to have problems."