Duck Hunters Don’t Like …

I wake. It’s 3:45 a.m. No blare of the alarm clock has sounded. It’s set for 4 a.m. That’s the way it always is when I’ve planned a morning duck hunt on the lake. No alarm necessary!

I get out of bed and smell the fragrance of boat motor exhaust on my hair. It appears that I did not bathe last night. Oh well, duck hunters don’t like to get wet.

I get dressed, pull on my jacket, check its pockets for dry gloves and two extra pairs, tug on my waders, and gather my gun and hunting gear.

As I head out the door into the brisk dark night, I realize that I’ve become an expert at completing that routine speedily and soundlessly. I’ve been a waterfowl hunter for over five decades. During those years, I’ve learned a few things. Plus, I can back a boat trailer straight down a ramp like nobody’s business.

I’ve learned that weather, especially wind, greatly influences waterfowl behavior. Go ahead, ask me the forecast. Surfing the internet weather channels is my specialty.

On a night when the wind blows strong out of the north and the temperature begins to plummet, flocks of migrating waterfowl will head southward. As dawn breaks, those birds will be looking for places to feed and loaf.

My current favorite place to seek those feeding and loafing waterfowl is a lake of 1,800 acres. Since the lake is a public hunting area, hunting spots or “blind sites” are designated and must be selected and recorded before hunters launch. I know a perfect spot, a prominent point where land juts out into the lake and the surrounding water deepens gradually.

If the wind is out of the north, I’ll place my decoy spread so that my anchored floating decoys extend southward in front of me. In the reed grass along the shore, I’ll hide my boat and hunker in, with the north wind at my back. That positioning allows the decoys to be highly visible from a flock’s aerial vantage point.

Waterfowl land into the wind. Their billed faces point windward, their wings cup, and their webbed feet swing forward. It’s amazing how waterfowl know exactly what to do to utilize flowing air to decrease their flight speed, making for smooth landings. If things go as I’ve planned, the ducks will interpret the decoys bobbing on the waves as comrades feeding in safety. If the feed chuckle (noise I make by blowing short bursts of air across the reed of my call) is likewise convincing, their descent may bring them within range of my 12-gauge shotgun.

Sometimes, wind gives me pause. When the wind streams across the dam rather than filtering through bankside trees, waves swell and buffet my 16-foot aluminum jon boat. I’m tossed about like a cork. Because I hunt in the southern zone, a region of Illinois where waterfowl hunting is allowed during December and January when temperatures often hover near the freezing point and can dip to below zero, I’d prefer not to get splashed by wave spray. On a blustery day I select a blind site near the boat ramp and limit the distance I travel across the lake or I hug the shoreline. If wind gusts of over 20 mph are predicted, I might stay in my warm bed even if I’m awake before 4 a.m. Windy or calm, foggy or clear, any day that I’m on the lake, I take safety precautions. Life jackets [flotation devices] are always required!

Over the years of waterfowl hunting, I’ve learned a thing or two about nature; that includes human nature. I like hunting with companions or mentoring youths, but the situation of two or three persons held in a boat during the wee hours of the morning poses an experiment in sociology. Hopefully all are empathetic individuals, willing to take turns at making the shots. Also, each hunter must be cognizant of his or her responsibility; as host or guide I want us all to get back to the boat ramp safe and dry.

I’ve learned to discern which individuals respect game laws and believe, as I do, that the game regulations serve to stabilize wildlife populations.

Years ago, one of my hunting companions would call me in the evening to compare insights gained during that day’s hunt and to confer about pending opportunities. The phone would ring exactly at the moment when the chore of washing supper dishes was most imminent. It was uncanny and fortunate! While I’d be visiting away, my wife would complete the dishwashing herself. Consequently, his calls would keep my hands from getting wet. Now, that guy was a good hunting buddy!

It’s 9:30 a.m. now. I’ve got the decoys picked up and back in the boat, and I’ve changed my wet gloves for dry ones. No harvested ducks accompany the pile of ice-coated decoys in the bottom of the boat. We cold-handed, red-nosed, watery-eyed hunters talk over the motor’s growl.

“Well, Jim, the best part was watching the birds come in before the sun ever came up,” says my hunting buddy. “Quite a show!”

“Yep, just before shooting time,” I respond. “Hearing the loons was cool, too. Hey, it’s supposed to rain tomorrow, but do you want to give it a try?”