Written By Josh Webb
To say that duck hunting does not hold a special place in history would be a bold faced lie. From the time the first explorers set foot on this ground, there were immediate accounts of the vast migrations of waterfowl that filled the air with each passing winter breeze. And, though it has taken hundreds of years, hunters have found their special place in which they chase ducks each fall as the season arrives. However, no matter where a duck hunter is from or where they float their decoys in pursuit of fowl, there is one magical place that lives in the minds of every duck hunter. That place has been hunted by thousands and envied by that many more. It is a place where true traditions are born and passed on to those lucky enough to witness a sunrise there. It is also a place that will provide a hunter with a mind full of memories and heart full of passion. This place is none other than the sacred flooded timber of Arkansas.
Approaching this article, I looked back on the many mornings I have spent leaned up next to a pin oak in knee deep water watching birds move back and forth against the cold Arkansas sky. I have spent time with friends and family there. I have watched first ducks be killed, and I have seen sights that truly left me speechless. In the midst of all that I still get chills every time I step foot on that hallowed ground. Non-hunters have a tough time understanding why we love our heritage so much. And each time I hear someone say this I have no problem explaining to them that there is just something special about stepping foot in the same muddy water our granddad’s stories are made of. For hunters like myself, it takes a moment to catch our breath each morning as we hear the first wing beats break the winter silence. And with each time we become more intrigued that the same rush that hits you like a lightning bolt when that first group tips the tree tops can also create an inner peace inside you knowing that sights like that have taken place countless times since even before the days of Olt.
The truth of it is that duck hunting has countless traditions. Sink boats in the bay, floating blinds in the marsh, and cypress brakes in the Delta all have their special place. They have carved out their identity in the heritage of waterfowl hunting. But if you ever get the chance, even just once, you owe it to yourself to experience a sunrise in the majestic flooded flats of Arkansas. I honestly wish I could come up with the words to describe it. Pictures and video are great, but to understand duck hunting in its purest form you just have to do it. You can thank me later!
