(Picture shown -1 bird, he's in the freezer awaiting a taxidermist to work their majic)
(Haven't received the 'in the field' pics)
No matter what game you choose to hunt, or how you hunt it, one thing is of utter importance, Patience. That word has been one I have heard since I was the age of 6, as I have never really possessed the ability to ‘wait things out’. I have always wanted things now, and would fight to get them just. Some times however, you have to learn to be patient. Being patient plays a vital role in most everything. Whether it is your relationship with someone, a task to complete at work or even that of hunting, patience can determine the outcome of most any situation. I can’t think of a better classroom setting to learn patience than that of the outdoors. It doesn’t matter if you are floating in the lake with your fishing pole in your hand, sitting in a deer stand, or standing in the flooded grass, one thing you will have to endure, is waiting.
This season, I have had ample time to be patient. Since bow season began in October, I have sat more man hours than any season before with nothing to show. I have done so, as I have been anticipating the arrival of my quarry. Duck season has been much the same, as this season, I have hunted a total of 3 times. The first day was a complete bust, the second day, shooting was done by only one party in the group, and the third day, well, it was what everyone pictures concerning the perfect hunt. It has been a year that has tested my desires, my physical and mental strengths, and one were patience or the act of waiting paid off 100 fold.
To make a long story short, this weekend was planned for me to return home from Christmas and hunt with a buddy in his boat. At 5:45 last night, everything changed. My buddy called needing help as his motor had left him and his father stranded some miles from the landing. Coordinating everyone’s efforts, my brother and I set out to pick up his truck in hopes of retrieving his stranded watercraft from the ever so full body of water. Two hours after the entail phone call, several miles on the trip calculator, and one slick, muddy, turn row, we tied down the final strap holding his boat in place. In all honesty, I don’t think I have ever been thanked so much in my life, as his father, and himself, were not looking forward to the long night ahead. I guess sometimes, things happen for a reason.
With no boat access, our plans needed to be adjusted to allow for at least one morning of wing shooting. Ideas were being tossed around by me, my buddy, and even my younger brother when my younger brother finally made everyone’s decision. He did it very convincing by simply saying “I don’t care where ya’ll go, I’m going to the south ponds and I’m going to kill ducks!” That was it, discussion over, and our plans were set to hunt the farm the following morning.
This morning, it was decided we would hunt two groups. One group would focus their efforts in the north/south pond, and another in the south/south pond. Being my brother had two guest, and I one, and only 1 4 wheeler between the 5 of us, you can imagine the first 30 minutes were hectic. There were people walking, riding, cussing, you name it, it was going on. Somehow however by six o’clock this morning all 5 of us were standing on the west road discussing how the hunt would play out. My brother and his buddies took the north pond, and I and my buddy made our way through the head tall grass into the south pond. By 6:20 mallards were working overhead.
Throughout the hunt, both groups faced the same challenge of working the birds. When they would work one spread, they would circle over the other, and this went on for the first few groups that made their way overhead. Then, there was a change in pace. The birds, that once flew high overhead, and beat their wings ever so hard, cupped up and began their decent upon my spread of 7 mallard decoys. Giving them my version of a feed call, and mixing in a quack here and there, gave them all the confidence they needed to fully commit. Like any duck hunter would want, the drake and hen began to back peddle 40 yards out and slowly made their way to us, back peddling the whole way. Shouldering my gun, smiling all the same, I rose above the grass and floated my barrel in front of the drake. Like clock work, my buddy did the same with the hen, and both shots fired simultaneously sent both ducks dead on the water.
Excited about my first mallard of the year and overall the way everything played out, high 5’s were shared, the dog did his work, and then the blue sky stayed blue. A few low flying mallards played their mental game with us, a few low flying geese brought hope, but for the next hour the birds were just unworkable. Thoughts of going home, leaving, and everything else came about in conversation when I just pepped up and laughing said “Got to be patient, they’re coming, and we’re just going to have to wait them out.” After 30 or so minutes my buddy made the comment after looking at his clock “Should be coming soon” and no longer did he say it than the group of 4 drakes and 1 hen fly over. A greeting call to the tune of a champion calling slipped through my call, and by no means am I a caller, but for once it happened. It came out so perfectly pitched, for a brief moment, I had to look at my call to make sure I had just done it. Then the picture any duck hunter wants to paint was put on the canvas.
Working to my call like on a string, the 5 ducks made their pass and fell into the decoys. Whispering wait to my hunting buddy, we allowed them within 10 yards, and I called the shot. Screaming out “Take’em” played second fiddle to the roar of our guns. The first shot from my buddy sent a drake splashing down, as did my first shot. With the duck coming down on top of him, he was out of the loop, but I stayed shouldered waiting for that perfect moment. It happened a lot quicker than I expected as the third drake fell and passing the hen, I fell my third mallard, and 4th of the volley. Sending my dog, I noticed something. My heart was pounding, I was shaking from the excitement, and I found out later from my brother and his group I let out a victory yell that echoed over the land. I had done it, I had pulled off my first triple, had my mallard limit, and got in some much needed work for my dog. It was the perfect hunt!
All totaled, we took home 6 ducks this morning, 5 drakes, 1 hen. The hunt was last minute, wasn’t really planned, but one we pulled off despite the odds. The separation from a hunt, and my perfect hunt, was my able to be patient. If I had called the hunt on account of no birds, I wouldn’t have left with the grin I did. Waiting, allowing things to take its course, and being prepared gave me all the opportunity I needed to finally walk out of the south ponds with a limit. For the first time this season, I realized why I love it so much. There isn’t anything like it! The old saying “Patience is a virtue” is starting to open my eyes to things I never saw before.
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