Duck season starts with few bangs, good times
Despite sleepless anticipation, opening day of duck season Saturday was not the slugfest my mates and I anticipated.
We’ve been around long enough to temper our expectations, but when we’ve waited so long for opening day, we just can’t help ourselves.
My brother Brad got it all started with breathless exclamations about how conditions in his favorite spot have never been better. When this place is prime, you can’t shoehorn another duck into it. I have seen it that way, and with such a long stretch of cold weather, we believed that opening day would be a showstopper.
In addition to my brother, our group consisted of Bob Rogers of Hazen and Woody Murrah, a native Georgian whose roots sink ever deeper in the southeast Arkansas gumbo.
I also learned that my brother is a stealth member of the Purple Hull Society, an elite — but not elitist — group of 16-gauge shotgun enthusiasts that treasures its annual 16-gauge-only duck hunts. Brad, who for decades used a Benelli Super Black Eagle 12-gauge, switched to a new Browning A5 Sweet Sixteen for the 2017 season. It’s ideal for the short shots that are prevalent in his Monroe County hotspot, but without the shoulder trauma that a 12-gauge inflicts.
My 16-gauge, a 1950 Winchester Model 12, was delighted with the company. I also used some new ammunition, 1-ounce No. 6 Bismuth loads from Kent. They are tailored for older guns like mine which are not recommended for use with steel shot. Regrettably, these shells have green hulls, which might provoke our Society President Jess Essex to write bylaws that either exempt or prohibit green-hull ammo if a suitable purple hull alternative is available.
Federal steel shot is in purple hulls, but I find its 15/16-ounce, low-speed payload to be seriously lacking. On the other hand, it forces you to choose your shots carefully.
While we’re on this subject, I recently ordered 3 pounds of No. 6 Hevi-Shot and some special wads and fillers to make what I hope will be some exceptional waterfowl loads. A compatriot on Facebook’s 16-Gauge Appreciation Society forwarded me a generous selection of tested recipes, so I hope to have some reports when I exhaust my supply of Bismuth.
If Saturday’s hunt is an indicator, that won’t be anytime soon.
We reached our hole at 6 a.m., and spread a dozen decoys. Instead of wingbeats, we heard proverbial crickets.
Ducks finally started flying about 7 a.m. Two mallards dropped in the hole, and Murrah bagged one. The other departed at a low angle that prohibited a safe shot, and it escaped.
Shortly after, a big flock of mallards worked the hole. It looked like a classic assembly as more and more birds joined the main flock. They cupped their wings for their final descent right about the time a group of hunters from a nearby field unleashed a barrage on different birds.
Our ducks flared, and though they continued to circle the hole, they also continued ascending until they banked away to the northeast. Every other mallard we saw went to that area, as well.
Finally, three gadwalls dropped into the hole. Rogers, Brad and I each got one, ensuring that nobody got skunked.
That was the score when we departed the hole. However, Brad wanted to give me a tour of the place to show all the improvements he’d done since I last hunted there. It’s mighty impressive and is a textbook example of how a committed landowner can provide valuable benefits for waterfowl.
As we walked into an expanse of flooded smartweed, a big bunch of mallards launched skyward. We knew there were many more beyond a buckbrush island, so we split up and advanced in a pincer movement on the place where we thought they were.
Our hunch proved right. All of the ducks that wouldn’t work our first hole had lit in this area, and they rose in small waves amid a thunderous clamor of quacks and wingbeats.
A drake mallard and hen flew well within 16-gauge range. I led the greenhead and missed the first shot, but connected with the second, and that was the end.
Despite the brevity of action and paucity of shooting opportunities, neither of us was disappointed. We’ve been around long enough to cherish every moment in a duck marsh.