Old Duck Hunting Stories

[Bud]

Hunting where I come from, most any duck hunting story that involves ducks turns out well. We don't see the ducks others see unless we are blessed with somewhere private to hunt, or want to hunt WMAs where people from everywhere come.

Flew to duck country fifteen or so years ago, and it was frozen from an ice storm. No lights at the lodge. They had bought heaters and it was nice inside. Showed us our room, and fed us a whole prime rib that was the best I have ever had. My friend drank too much at the airport waiting with a guide for me. He couldn't get up the next morning. I was pumped.

I hunted a morning early before everyone else got there. We arrived at the blind and the wind had removed everything from the two fifty-gallon drums we were to hunt out of. The young guide that was most likely there to help with the crowd coming told me we could go back to the lodge any time. Wind chill was 17 degrees below zero, and it was howling. I had on great clothing and gear, with plenty of spare gloves.

He told me to get down inside the barrel. I asked if he was kidding. Here were two black circles on a piece of land barren, surrounding a small pond area. The wind was in our faces. Out in front of us for 100 yards out was nothing but ice frozen in waves, and the decoys were frozen into the thick block of ice turned in every direction one could think of: some half sunk and some on their sides.

By now, it was getting light enough to start noticing things farther away. There was water on the other side of the pond, and the wind would be at our backs. I asked to move. He said we could go back to the lodge any time. Said if I wanted to hunt, to get in the barrel. Begrudgingly, I did. The ice broke and I was standing in a foot of frozen water. Did I mention I felt like an idiot?

Surely, this youngster was no guide or maybe just lacked experience. Twelve birds went into the water on the other side, then were banged out by hunters somewhere upwind of us. It wasn't long before a second group dropped in. We were in the wrong place. I crawled out and told him we needed to bust two decoys free of ice and move. He watched as I tried to clean one up through two pair of gloves. Told him we could walk over there and hunt, but he said the water was too deep. We walked around to where there was water. I was froze by now. Thank God for extra gloves. You guessed it: he said we could go back to the lodge any time. Told him I was planning on killing ducks.

Threw the decoy, but it didn't go far. Bad throw. Grabbed a stick and tested the water. It was deep and would have to remain there. By then, the teal were all but stopped flying. A lone mallard dropped in on the guide's side of the pond about 80 yards away. Told him and he just sat there. I hit my old wooden call with what works for me, then stopped. About thirty seconds later, the mallard must have seen the lone decoy. Told the guy to be still, because here he comes. Waiting on the call from the guide to take him, the drake flew by at about eight feet above the water and fifty feet out. "Did you see that?" the youngster asked. I stood up, unloaded my gun, and told him I was now ready to go back to the lodge.

[Steele22]

Funny story now, sure it wasn't then. Prob woulda had to left him in the barrel upside down

[Bud]

Any and everyone please feel free to share a story or three....or more.

We stopped to stalk a little ditch area long many years back. It had been holding a handful of BWT. My partner had his dog leashed, so he was a bit slower than I. We had hunted a bluebird day on an island til noon without firing a shot, so the ditch sounded fair game on the way home.

I was crawling up front and glassed movement in a window about three feet wide. It was a few coots moving by. My partner asked what I saw. "Nothing but coots," I whispered. When the window went blank of eyes, I eased forward again. I was less cautious as I had been. "I'm tellin' you, there were BWT in there every time I looked this week!" he whispered a little louder. I was at the top of the levy in the wide open by now, and eyes started showing up from both directions. We were busted. This time, there were bunches of delectable BWT in the mix.

As most people that know wild birds, they went wild. I told my partner "teal" as I shot into that small window I could see about three feet off the water at one...on my knees. Standing up quickly, I picked out two singles and my partner had one his way to shoot. Three singles, and a threesome from that first shot, was our reward. We let the dog do his thing. Naturally, he went home with three and I with three. Pretty good for a day with no shooting, ended by a partner with a lot of scouting. His dog even killed a little pig on the way back to the boat the long way around. He was pumped and ready to keep hunting, I guess.

My partner? He mumbled out loud on the way to the boat, "Coots, huh!"

[Bud]

That's about right, Steele 22. "Where's blank, your guide, at?" "Oh, he's fixing a leak in one of the blinds."

[Capttrae]

Ok my first try at duck huntin.
Was going to AR to visit my mom and stepdad after they found out he had cancer. Figured, well since I'll be where there are suspposed to be a ton of ducks may as well try it out.
While I was on the boat I found a guide who agreed to let me borrow a pair of waders, said we'd be hunting in a flooded rice field. I get off the boat a week or so later and head on up. On the way I stopped at the Walmart and bought a new Mossberg 835. Then got on up to West Memphis, got my license, stamp and bought a "duck hunting" jacket. Visited w/ my mom and stepdad for a couple days and went on to Brinkley from there. Got to the "lodge" plenty early, guide told me there are plenty of ducks but said it was more than likley a goose day bc of the weather.
The first morning wasn't terrible we rode out to the blind in this "field" that more resembled a lake, got in this steel duck blind in the middle of it, there again, no problems. Problem was not only was it raining (which I didn't care about) but it was also thundering and lightning (which I did care about considering we were the tallest object also made of steel in the middle of this "field"). As it got daylight I could see that about half our decoys were on their side. At the time I didn't know if that mattered or not, but I am a hunter and figured that more than likley wasn't a good thing. But we were seeing a ton of ducks. Later that morning the wind switched around so we slid the seat over and faced the other direction. One guy actually ended up killing one.
That afternoon it was still raining, so instead of going goose hunting we went back to this same "field" but this time we had to walk in. Now I don't mean 50-75 yards I mean prolly around 3-400 yards or more, there again not a big deal I don't mind working for the birds. The water was about an inch maybe 2 from coming over the top of my waders as it was and I fell twice going to the blind. So we sit all afternoon no ducks. Coming out I fell face first in the water, shotgun in one hand backpack full of shells in my back. A guy in front of me picked me up by the nap of my neck and stood me up.
Got back to the lodge saw the weather was going to be terrible for driving home, and me being the glutton for punishment I am, decided well, why not try it one more day. So I did. The next morning was about 1000x's better. It wasn't raining and we rode to this slough we were hunting. The owner had said there would be a bench we could sit on, but it had got washed away, no big deal. Birds worked pretty good that morning. We had a group of gadwall come in cupped up feet down, I get lined up on one and my gun goes CLICK!!!! For the third time that morning. Brand new gun, cleaned it thourghly the night before after I took it swimming.
I told myself right then and there I was done duck huntin wasn't never going to go again. And now here I am completely addicted to this mess

[Rick]

Can't say you didn't have fair warning. I kind of feel for the guys who have an easy great hunt right out of the box, because the poor bastards don't know what's coming.

[Bud]

It was late January and one beautifully cold bluebird afternoon. Took my boat with a guy who managed a place long ago. We went to a roost and were to shoot two wood ducks apiece and watch til dark. Having shot one I could not get to, he talked me into another. I obliged. We moved the boat closer to the roost.

We were waiting what seemed an eternity for the birds to come, and I couldn't stop looking at that duck on the water. We had cased our guns and were in watch mode as the birds started trickling in. That darned bird wouldn't stop bothering me. I got out the boat and headed into the sticks, waist deep. It would be about a 45 yard retrieve for me.

That 45 yards turned into 5 yards when I remember something about sinking to the bottom of a hole that felt about four feet over my head. I was thinking how cold it was in such short notice. I got down on my hands and knees, turned what I thought to be a half a circle to head back the way I had come from, and started crawling. It was a hole, alright. I climbed over the about four foot wall in front of me and stood up. I gasped a large breathe of fresh air while doing so. My friend was still just sitting in the boat where it had been and said, "Thought I was gonna lose you for a moment."

Then it happened again: that duck! I broke off a dead stick and felt my way around the hole and grabbed my prize. Ducks were trying to light in my boat, then flare away at face level. It was awesome, but I was frozen and needed to get to spare clothes and socks in my truck. After getting on some clothes, we threw my boat in the truck and headed to the locked gate. My friend got out to unlock the gate, and out steps a game warden. "How'd you guys do?", he asked, then started looking for our ducks. "You guys have one bird over the limit," he said. Told him it was mine. "I'll have to take this duck and write you a ticket for one over the limit", he said.

I tried to reason with him about almost drowning, wanton waste, everything I could think of. He wrote me up, then wrote the caretaker up for no license, etc. He reached down and grabbed the drake I had almost died trying to get to, and that was the last straw. He must have known, because he looked at me and saw anger for the first time. He grinned and took a different duck.

"Go ahead and shoot another one," my friend had said. That would have been fine had the drake on the water just stopped bothering me.

[Bud]

We almost scratched our opener yesterday, shooting a lone teal while out of the hole we had hunted.

Saw something these old eyes had never seen before, though. We had a grebe at first light fly into the decoys, then start swimming around. First time one flew into the area I can remember seeing.

[Rick]

Fly like there's a load in their britches.