Duck
hunting on the other hand, just wasn’t my cup of tea. Don’t get me wrong, I liked shooting. But duck hunting was alien to the bird
hunting I was accustomed to. It was cold
for one thing. Bitter cold. The wind was usually howling and for some
reason that God can only explain to me, if it rained, it meant the hunt would
be even better. Really? Cold, wet, and windy meant this would be a good hunt?
But
this was not all! My dad and I would
spend several hours getting the boat ready, packing the decoys, getting our
clothes situated then drive several more hours so that we could get in a boat
in this terrible weather, drive the boat in dark for another 30 minutes, throw out
several dozen plastic birds, and then sit in a blind to wait for the sun to
come up. And yes, I hated the ‘early’
part of the hunt also. Dove season would
come in at noon. Ducks, they flew thirty
minutes before sunrise. Curse those ducks!
I
think I was around thirteen when I shot my first duck. Nothing special. Not a magnificent shot at all. In fact, the hen ruddy duck just kind of flew
in and landed. We didn’t call her
in. I don’t think we noticed her until
we saw and heard the splash of her landing.
We scared her up so I could get the shot. But it was my first duck.
Over
the years, especially the last ten or so, I enjoy duck hunting much more. The variety of species intrigues me and I am
like a kid in the zoo when I spot one that I don’t usually see. In all likelihood though, I think my taste
for hunting ducks lies mostly on lifestyle.
Not the lifestyle of living large, or even living lower. More in the lines of my day is not taken
completely away by heading out for ducks.
My wife is less frustrated than if I sit in a stand all day and show up
an hour after dark. I still do not like
getting up early, but it is tolerable and I have more discipline as an adult to
force myself to get out of bed.
My
oldest son’s first experience with hunting waterfowl had the makings of both a
miserable hunt and a first class experience.
We hunted swans near Lake Phelps in the northeastern part of the
state. It was hard to find camo for his
small frame, but we pieced some things together. We also had absolutely no luck in finding BB
steel shot for the 20 gauge side by side he would use. He shot 4 shot instead. The #4s are great for ducks such as woodies,
but I was warned that the swan was so big he would not be able to bring one
down. Still, we had to use what was
available.
The
party hunted from a ditch in a field that must have been more than 10,000 acres
and the guide was calling only by mouth with his hands cupped over his
lips. There were about a dozen of us
hunters. Turner was too short to reach
from one side of the ditch to the other, so he settled his feet in the bottom
and leaned against one side. Within
seconds his boots were completely underwater and he whispered to me that they
were soaked. I kicked with the back of
my heel a small shelf into the side of the ditch and he dug his heels in the
shelf to stay out of the water. I could
only sympathize for him about how the hunt was starting.
The
first time he used the Ithaca 20 gauge was just a few months before on opening day
of dove season. He didn’t even shoot a
box of shells, but did bring down a few birds.
I saw he was trigger shy. He was
still learning. When to shoot, when not
to shoot, would someone be upset if he missed, would others laugh; all those
questions were certainly flowing through his mind.
This
day was not much different. I shot five
times that day to get my first swan. The
swan I shot was actually a follow up shot after Turner’s first shot. Turner had hit him, but he didn’t go
down. Turner took one more shot that
day, folding a young swan nearly 70 yards away.
The small shot with a small shotgun that was fired by a small 9 year old
was no small feat.
David Tomlin (Harmony, NC) and his son in 2009 |
I
look back on this day after reading an email from David Tomlin. David shared with me how his hunts changed after
having a child. Then he emphasized ‘for the
better.’ I realize how blessed I am to
have been with my son on the swan hunt, the dove hunt, and the many other hunts
we have done since. I realize how
blessed I am as I teach my daughter the same skills. I anticipate the opportunity to teach my
youngest son and experience everything again for the first time through his
eyes. And as I think about these events,
I realize how blessed my father and grandfather were to experience the same with
me as I encountered my ‘firsts.’
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