Who took you...

[Wingman]

..on your first duck hunt?

I know, some of you were born duck hunting and never had to learn how to do it from outsiders, but for the rest of us, we had to go through trials and errors.

Actually, I took myself on my first hunt in the 11th grade. I had been deer hunting a particular place and kept hearing ducks quacking on the back side of the brake in a flooded field. I can only remember taking a john boat in there and sitting in it with a friend of mine in some thick, thick coffeeweeds. He was wearing cowboy boots and we both fell asleep before daylight. We woke up to mallards quacking near us, but didn't fire a shot (I wonder why, that pretty aluminum boat surely blended right in).

I finally figured out what to do and took my little brother with me on a flooded ditch on the same place. We wore the mallards out and he thought it was supposed to be like that each and every duck hunt.

I can remember my first close encounter with a bull sprig. I was hunting what is now Federal Refuge near Carter. I had set up on a little point of dirt surrounded by water. I was "digging in" with my Army shovel and had worked my way around the fox hole to the opposite side from where my gun was laying. I heard this whistling sound and looked up to see that big sprig float right past me at about 20 yards and land. All I could do was think, "do I go for the gun or just throw the shovel at him?"

I killed my first mallard drake at Mathews Brake back in the early 90's. Walked waaaaay back in there on one of those ridges and dropped him in some button bush. Wanted to mount him and cradled him in my arm for what seemed like miles. When I finally got out of there my carrying arm wouldn't work properly any longer from being frozen in position carrying that big ole fathead around for hours. I swore I'd never go back unless I carried a boat and I kept my promise. I haven't been back since.

[Wingman]

I can remember my first "real" encounter with the "green jeans" but his pants were brown cause he was a Fed. Buddy of mine from Alabama and I had gone hunting in a jam up spot. The ducks funneling in there looked like blackbirds they were so thick. I had all of my stuff right but my buddy changed the dates on his license (back before it was all computerized.) His father in law had also given him a sack of lead shot to take with us in case we ran out of shells. I honestly shot nothing but steel shot and we got our limit of mallards each. We were taking turns shooting and he shot a banded hen. At sunset we started picking up the dekes and I can remember how badly I wanted to keep on shooting because they were just falling all over us (so I understand the temptation some of you lesser humans go through

We gathered up our stuff and headed for the truck. I noticed a guy watching us with binocs and remembered thinking that I had nothing to hide and I was so glad I didn't keep on shooting. We got to the truck and he asked us how we did and I proudly told him we spanked 'em right good. Then he told us who he was (ole Mr. Hugh from Panther Swamp) and began to give us the once over. I checked out clean, naturally, but he picked up on my buddy's license that had been altered. While he was questioning my buddy, I had a flashback and remembered that sack of lead shot that my buddy's paw-in-law had given him. I made like a fox and eased that sack of lead off of the four wheeler and behind the truck seat. He got a ticket for the license and we lived to see another day.

I also remember the time my brother and I were hunting this same place (man it was a good hole) and we had made a little "nest" of coffeeweeds on the edge of a swag. Out of nowhere this white streak comes from behind and to the right and blisters past us and onto the water. I hollered at my little bro, "shoot that thang!" and he exclaimed "What is it?" I pulled up and shot that snow goose and told him to shoot first and axe quarstions later. We laughed about that for years. I think that was when the snows just started coming in here thick and he hadn't seen many of them.

[chevy01234]

My first duck hunt was at my farm in "the duckblind" with my grandad, Mark, Steve, and Mr. Buck. I remember we had to pull a john boat from the camp behind a four wheeler so I could ride in the boat as I wasn't tall enough to wade in yet.

I don't remember how many we killed but I remember the one big ol fat mallard I killed with my 20 gauge remington pump my grandad gave me for christmas. That year for my birthday, I got a great surprise..they had my first duck mounted for me! Pretty cool to think back on that hunt.

I have been blessed to be surrounded by caring adults that took the time to show me the outdoors. My parents being divorced and dad not being a big hunter, I have really been blessed with my Grandfather and too many people to name! They are the reason I am who I am today. They (and hunting) are the reasons I stayed in school and made my grades. I had a deal with my grandpa that I could hunt all I wanted to on the farm (not just a little parcel of land, a big farm) as long as I had C's or better at school. I guess I thought one year that he was bluffing, he wasn't! That was the best motivation I had to do right. There could literally be a book written on the influential people in my life and how they all should be granted sainthood for putting up with me!

[huntersmky]

two good reads Mr. Rob. I remember my first hunt like it was yesterday. I was 8 years old and I was with my sisters high school boyfriend at the time and a bunch of his buddies. They had stayed out all night and were going hunting the next morning. He asked me if I wanted to go and of course I said Yeah. I don't even think I took a gun. He gave me a pair of hip boots which were like waders on my little 110 lb. booty at the time. We took off walking to the hole and I tripped and fell and ripped a hole in the hip boots. I froze my butt off to say the least and don't even remember the hunt. To top things off, her boyfriend had a 70's model bronco and the heat didn't work. It made for quite a long ride home that day and I was freezing cold on top of being wet. That was the last hunt I went on till I turned 18 and had the proper equipment.

I did learn the whole hand to nuts trick on this hunt though which I still use from time to time to keep my hands warm.

all in all it was a lesson learned and a duck hunt I will never forget.

[Wingman]

Something wrong with my screen and it keeps jumping when I get to the bottom of the text box..oh well.

Anyway, enough of them outlaw stories cause I did my share of lawbreaking back in the day. Finally got over that "shooter stage" and grew up a little and decided it wasn't worth it. I think every kid goes through that stage and most folks grow out of it about the time their mind develops a little more on or about their 25th year. But I think some folks must take 50 years to get to that same stage of development...but we won't get into that.

I got my first guiding job when I was a junior in college and spent most of my weekends in the winter down at the old Reed's Deer Camp at Fitler. Boy, we used to have some fun down there. That's where I learned to eat a meal with 2 forks and a knife and a spoon and how to put that Louisiana Gold sauce on my eggs for breakfast. Man, we was a refined bunch of rednecks in that lodge up on stilts with each room made out of different types of wood and named after that particular tree. I bunked with ole John R and he never set an alarm clock. Just tell him what time we needed to wake up and he woke up every morning on the dot. Spent many a day riding around with that rogue Eddie Hatcher (I found reform but I don't know if he has yet) and we took folks from all over the country down into Goose Lake, Steele Bayou, the Blue Hole by Albermarle, Tennessee Bar and other cool places. Learned how to hunt those mid-morning ducks that came into the willow hole by Albermarle after feeding in the fields. That's when I learned that a gadwall will circle 73 times if you don't shoot him on the first pass and that an outboard motor won't run long if you fill it up with duckweed.


Oh well, y'all contribute with your "first" stories and let's remember how it was to be a "topwater" once upon a time. Go easy on the new guys. Most of y'all were hunting ducks before it was the thing to do and you've got a lot of stories to tell I'm sure.

[bigbeeducker]

I just kinda figured it out on my own. My daddy didn't hunt ducks. None of my friends or their daddy's hunted ducks.
I can remember taking one of them One Shot Payne boats down the Tenn-Tom at floodstage with nothing but a trollin motor and two batteries. Never will forget the day the second battery died about four hundred yards downstream from the ramp. Wasn't gonna float back downstream, so I jumped in and swam it back to the ramp. Hell, lookin back on it even the dog knew that something wasn't very smart bout that.
Me and a few hands cut our teeth over there on that river, still got some spots that when things get right, it's unrivaled. It don't get like that often, but when it does there are less than three people I'd even think about callin.

I think this is one of the best threads on here in a long time. Amazes me how many people on here think they were born with Anas in their Genus. I don't know it all, but I for dammmed sure know that.

Cool thread, Todd.

[Anatidae]

My oldest brother.............



..........took me on my first duck hunt. I had a new BB gun I'd just gotten for Christmas and we were in a 2-man pit in Cameron Parish, LA right across the North line of Lacassine Refuge......the 'coastal' lease. It was real foggy that morning.......and I remember hearing the thumping of big guns down in the marsh. We had geese all around us but couldn't ever see them. We sat there a long time but there was never a time I wasn't in anticipation of laying my eyes on what was making all the racket above us - my eyes strained to see 'anything' through the fog. I had to stand-up in the pit just to see the decoys over the edge.

We decided to pick-up and try it another day. I was out in the decoys fixin' to pull one of the 12 G&H standard specklebelly shells up when I heard a couple of 'specks' (as I learned the difference in the various calls that morning) that sounded really close. I kept watching and spotted a pair coming through the fog about 20yds off the deck. I got Perry's attention and pointed towards the birds coming straight for us. He told me not to move. I can remember it like it was this morning......I was bent over with my hand around a decoy's neck......but I didn't even wink. He told me to look straight down (to hide my face). He'd been telling me all morning about looking right at the birds but none ever broke through the fog for them to see any bare 'skin'. I cut my eyes up toward the birds under the bill of my hat and heard the safety go-off. The 870 spoke twice and the pair fell. One of'em was flopping a little, so Perry told me to take my BB gun and finish him off. I also vividly remember shooting the goose in the butt (shows you what I knew about vital organs at that time). It was a great day - I was hunting with my big brother and he let me participate in the hunt. I would have to check his hunting journal........but I think it was around 1961-62......I would've been 7-8 years old.

This is the same canoe in the first picture........(new paint job by Ms Anatidae)



.......my first honker 35 years later (taken in 1997). I thought about Perry when that bird folded......like the pair he dumped in that ricefield that day. The canoe was his......paid $50 for it in 1956 with money he earned from taxidermy work he did. When he died in '65.....Daddy and I fished out of it so we could have a 'connection' to Perry, cause he fished all over SW La out of that boat......sometimes taking me, or Dad, or both along. We had some good times in that boat.

Dad gave me the canoe when I moved-off from home. Dad also gave me Perry's 870 when Dad quit hunting with it several years back. I think I'll get some heavy shot and put Perry's gun back in service one day......(it's a full choke). My wife and I hunted out of the canoe ('Killer') exclusively from '78 - '96......and still use it occassionally, to this day.

[Wingman]

Okay, I gotta tell one or two more before I go in for the night.

Me and my brother and my Bammy buddy were hunting the Bear Hole I was talking about earlier down near Carter. This place has always been just a natural duck magnet and it was nothing but bean fields back then. The low spots would go from toe-deep to up to your neck and you had to pick your way around those ridges to get from one side to the other. We set up on the west side of a willow line and put the decoys out. It was an afternoon hunt and I can remember the sawbills coming in there at eye level right beside us as we were putting out and picking up the dekes. For some reason or another my little brother split off from us and walked a couple hundred yards over to a ditch and set up (we were probably arguing about something). At sunset my buddy and I stopped shooting and were picking up our stuff. My little brother kept on shooting and I tried and tried to get him to stop (flashback to the lead shot story). I finally hollered one last time to him to stop shooting and he hollered back, "Why?" I said, "Cause it's after sundown!" The little know-it-all smart alec hollered back and said, "No it ain't, I can still see!" He was on his own after that and we started walking out and left him there for a while. Luckily Mr. Hugh wasn't around that day cause I'm sure we woulda all got blamed for it.

Then another time on the south side of that same place (I told y'all it was a good spot), me and my brother were hunting another flooded swag. The greenwings were in there like crazy. This was long before "layout" blinds were invented and maybe the only thing on the market at that time was those plastic duck coffins. Anyway, I was too broke to buy any type of blind so we set out the decoys and got busy making our blind. The farmer used to cut those beans with an old 7720 John Deere and it didn't have straw spreaders on the back, so it left these windrows of stubble everywhere it went. We cleared out a spot in that stubble and layed down, propping our heads up on our blind bags. We then covered up with that straw and the only thing sticking out were our arms, heads and guns. The teal never had a chance and we shot several. I got up to go out and pick up a bird or turn over a decoy or something, and all of a sudden I hear a gun go off and dirt flew up around me. My brother panicked and hollered out, "Are you okay?!" Not realizing yet what had just happened, I said I was and asked him what happened. Apparently he had left his gun off safety and hit the trigger when he was laying in that stubble. It blew up dirt all around my feet and if he had been holding it a little higher, it would've taken my legs off at the knees I'm sure. I don't think the realization of it ever sank in and we went right on back to hunting.

God watches out for children and foools they say. Good thing we were both.

[kwacksmacker18]

I remember my first duck hunt like it was yesterday. I was 16 and had never even really thought about duck hunting. One of my ol baseball buds had begged me all year to duck hunting with him. So I finally got around to ordering me a pair of waders, buying license, stamps, steel shot, etc. I took my dad's old Mossberg model 835 Ulti-Mag(Which kicks like a d@mn mule!!!) with some 3 1/2 in. Nitro Steels.

It felt like we walked for atleast an hour b4 we ever got to the hole and it felt like it was about 10 below 0. Once we got out there I was just tall enough that the water didn't come over my waders so I found me an old blown over tree and hopped up on it while my buddy put the decoys out.

It was just getting light enough to see,(not shooting light yet) and I heard an ol hen mallard quacking. Which I didn't know what that sounded like yet. All of a sudden I heard a quack and saw a brown streak go right in front of my face. Once it got shootin hours, I picked me out one of those woodies and went to lettin him have it. I gave him three shots. And on the third shot I fell backwards off the log and went completely under. That's a hunt I will never forget!!

[feather]

We moved "back home" to Mississippi from South Carolina when I was nine and bought a farm in Carroll County at Jefferson. My oldest brother stayed in Carolina for a few years and started duck hunting out there. In 75 he moved to Grenada and I thought he knew everything about duck hunting. There was a 60 acre watershed lake about a mile behind my house in Jefferson that had never been filled and they finally closed the valve in 73 and flooded it making a 60 acre lake of flooded willows. The wood ducks would pile in there by the thousands and my first hunt was a roost shoot where we paddled a ten foot boat out to the willows and shot like crazy! We did this a couple of times and on the second time I was paddling the boat when I heard quacking overhead. I looked up and there were two mallards that were going to pass over...I grabbed my 20 guage and shot the lead duck...turned out to be a hen and I was a little disappointed but happy I had killed a mallard. A few weeks later I borrowed some of my brother's decoys and, alone, set up on a spit of land out in that lake...just threw the decoys out and hid in the bushes. Didn't have any waders or knee boots or nothing. After a while some mallards came by and I blew my duck call like I had heard him do and low and behold they turned and bellied up right in front of me...I pick out a big ole greenhead and killed him dead with the first shot then missed the next two but I had my greenhead! I waded right out and picked him up and got soaked as it was about chest deep. I hunted a little longer but was about to freeze and decided to wade back out there and pick up and walk the mile back to the house. I was one happy kid! A few weeks later he and I paddled all the way to the other end of the lake and built a blind of sorts that we could hide the boat behind out in the willows and sit in it and shoot. Next morning we were there before daylite and I guess we worked up a sweat because I got COLD quick. The day before as we were building the blind literally THOUSANDS of ducks were flying high and in huge groups headed south. That morning, however, we only killed about six or eight ringnecks and couldn't figure out what they were...but of course we were still calling woodies "squealers"...we didn't know squat! Anyway, with no heater or nothing, and wearing cotten clothes but lots of 'em I was about to freeze to death! We painfully paddled back to our land and got out and those first steps were agonizing! I hobbled that mile back to the house and backed up to a roaring fire and my mother handed me a steaming cup of sugary coffee...took one sip and passed flat out! Coldest I've ever been...I was 15 and a DUCK HUNTER!!!!

[missed mallards]

My first duck hunt was with my “Pappy”, better known as my grandfather. He was the man, for the most part, could have cared less for hunting. He had indeed done his fair share during his years, but by the time I was of age to go, he had almost all but quit. He still did a little deer hunting with his brothers, and chased a turkey or two in his spare time, but ducks were of no interest. Instead of hunting waterfowl, he would flood his farm every winter to allow for a refuge of sorts for the migrating fowl.

During one winter, I would have to say 1992 or 1993, I was 7 or 8 at the time, I asked my grandfather if he would take me. Much to my surprise, he indeed did, and after school one Friday afternoon we went. The hunt wasn’t much of a conventional ‘duck hunt’ but rather a duck ‘shoot’. He loaded me up his 4 wheeler, drove me to the levee which splits the south ponds, and tucked me into the willows to hide me. He then told me to get ready, and watched as I loaded my single shot .410 with that 3” #6 shot lead shell, and made sure I had a pocket full in case I missed. After everything was finalized, he jumped on his 4 wheeler, and tore out across his rice fields flushing literally thousands upon thousands of fowl into the air. Low and behold, I had ample opportunities, but waited for one to light on the water before the shot, which never happened.

The following morning, I was nestled next to my grandfather in the tall grass on the North side of the 2nd pond, and brought down my first duck when one group fell low enough for my .410 to be effective. No decoys, no blind, no calling, just sitting and waiting and shooting….I must have shot 3 boxes before I got lucky. Anyway, that was my first duck, a hen shoveler, and my first ‘real duck hunt’.

[quack_a_tack]

I believe I was 14, a couple of my buddies had been askin me to go for two years on the one farm in Pace, MS.I never took them up because I was a die hard deer killer when I was younger. I finally decide to go opening morning that year (99 or 2000). We woke up and walked out to get the 4-wheelers and I can remember thinkin " I am really missin a good morning of deer hunting for this". We drove out to the rice field and it seemed that we put out 120 decoys, which upon counting later it was 123. We built a blind in the tall grass on the turn road and loaded up. It seemed five minutes before shooting time we had every duck in the country sittin in our decoys, time rolled by slow as christmas. Then the buddy who owned the land said its time. We shot our first volley and saw fire coming out the barrel, we dropped 4 out of that volley 3 greenheads and a gadwall, I was hooked from that point on. Not ten minutes later the next wave dropped down on us and we again emptied our guns, the results were 3 GWT,and 2 GREENHEADS. I forget the details after that other than it was still dark and what sounded like a UFO blew through the blind, I was told it was a Wood duck, but till this day still am not sure. we ended up killin three full limits of mallards all greenheads sept 1 hen, and 5 teal 1 gadwall. I remember thinkin on the way out screw deer hunting, this is the shiznit. I can count on two hands how many times I have deer hunted since, I was plum ruined. I only deer hunt till duck season now.

[MSDawg870]

My first duck hunt took place on the hallowed duck grounds of the Cairo Loop, that's in Pontotoc County. My great uncle had a corner in his hayfield that was flooded every year from the beaver dams on the nearby creek. He always talked about lookin through his "field glasses" (binos) and seein birds down there in the winter. Well, one summer my dad and I(10yrs) decided to build a blind in the corner. It took a few hot weekends of cuttin, hammerin, and brushin, but we got it done. I say we, all I did was probably throw sticks in the air while he worked on it.

Fast forward to a morning with temps in the upper 20's in early January. Uncle Bill's field glasses had been full with ducks that entire week. Dad and I rode down that Friday afternoon (we's OOSer's then) with limits of green on our mind. The next morning we busted ice across the corner, to the tree line on which our blind was sitchiated. At that time I learned about decoys - how to cinch em up to the right depth, how to throw em, and where to throw em. After puttin out a spread we sat there in the blind waitin for shootin time. It came and went without a shot being fired. I learned right off the bat that it ain't all whackin and stackin everytime you go. I did manage to knock down one bird that morning. It was a bufflehead that screamed over the tree line from behind and I drew down and dropped him. It may have been a lucky shot, but it'll be one I'll never forget.

[RedEyed Duck]

I cut my eyes up toward the birds under the bill of my hat and heard the safety go-off. The 870 spoke twice and the pair fell. One of'em was flopping a little, so Perry told me to take my BB gun and finish him off. I also vividly remember shooting the goose in the butt (shows you what I knew about vital organs at that time). It was a great day - I was hunting with my big brother and he let me participate in the hunt. I would have to check his hunting journal........but I think it was around 1961-62......I would've been 7-8 years old.

Excellent, absolutely excellent. My daddy took me on my first hunt. I will try to get a pic posted of us on one of those early hunts here soon!

[cwink]

I was a late starter.. I had been in MS about a year so it would be 1997 I guess. Some guy at our office was a big duck hunter and we got to talking about it and he invited me to go. So I met him early one morning in Clinton and he took me a long. I was well read on just how many of each bird I could kill the problem was I wasn't sure how I would identify them in flight. Anyway we got up to the Delta, not even sure where we were and he and I and a friend of his jumped in a boat on a little hole that was surrounded by other hunters.. We got set up and he broke out the calls and the bag of cheetos and proceeded to show me how to call. It wasn't long before the birds started flying and I remember thinking... "this is like dove hunting on crack" Just as shooting time arrived they started firing and I think they had 2 or 3 birds down already before they turned to me and said.."Why aren't you shooting".. I said "Cause I can't tell what I am shooting at".. They sort of chuckled at me and said.. "Just shoot and we will tally them up later".. Well of course the ducks slowed down before I could acutally get a shot off and I noticed that the combination of calling and cheetos and put a nice orange layer of chum on top of the water.. Just then I saw a bird coming into the regurgitated cheetos and one shot and the bird fell about 6 inches in front of the boat splashing us all.. They all looked at me and asked "What are you shooting at" I reached over the edge of the boat and picked up that big old green head and said "This".. From then on I was hooked.