I was barely of age to taste wine, and my drive to try new types of hunting was strong. I called my uncle who is a seasoned and avid duck hunter of over 25 years. He learned the skill of tricking ducks beginning in the Air Force while stationed in North Dakota, then Louisiana, and finally in Missouri where he resides to this day. He’s been stationed in the Mississippi flyway for a good portion of his life, can’t complain about that if you’re a duck hunter. He answered the phone and said he had been shooting a fair number of ducks, but the hunts weren't great yet. My wife (then girlfriend) and I were debating on traveling to MO to have Thanksgiving with my uncle and his family, he said that even though it hadn't been great, he’d be happy to take a novice like myself out. I decided why not. I was young and full of p**s and vinegar, plus the thoughts of pumpkin pie during Thanksgiving dinner sealed the deal.
I asked what I needed to bring, and he said that I needed waders. I had $50 in my meager college stressed bank account, and good waders couldn't be much more... Right!? I mean from my point of view duck hunting was waders and decoys, I had everything else I could possibly need within just my deer hunting gear.
The day of the hunt was cold, icy but not frozen over, overcast, and windy. The first thing I remember was how cold it was sitting in water, I had never done that before, and the brand new $50 CANVAS waders weren't doing much. They seemed to be a mix of old truck tires and plastic, they weren't much more than a giant rubber sack, and needless to say they had no insulation or warmth. Anyways, first let me explain where I was.
We were at Grand Pass Conservation Area in Marshall, MO. I remember thinking that waterfowl hunting here was like deer hunting back home in IN, it was very popular and everyone did it. Trucks pulled into the draw station with 4 or 5 boats on a single trailer, bags of decoys, blinds, paddles, dog crates, and I thought “what is all this stuff?” Men with beards in camo stood scattered around drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, and discussing strategy and past hunts. Kids, girls, grandpas, and everyone in between, all hoping for a memory that lasts a lifetime. Little did I know that this one single hunt would create a memory of my own and shape the next near decade of my hunting life.
The drawing was quite exiting in itself, I felt like we were playing poker and I was anxiously waiting for the best cards. But like when I play poker, my luck was nonexistent, and we drew near the bottom. We made the best of what we had, picked our spot and headed out. The twists and turns while driving through the CA seemed endless, I was for sure my Uncle was going to turn wrong and end up in the marsh. Soon enough we were at our parking area. After a quick trip over a levee and a good walk through flooded corn we found our spot and began setting up.
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| Mojo Decoy |
The sky was cracking navy as our decoys splashed white with the moonlight after hitting the water. The night before we had the “Great Garage Search of 2006” for Uncle John’s Mojo through piles upon piles of gear, "what the hell is a Mojo?” I thought to myself, and “How does anyone need this much gear for a duck!” While waiting for shooting light, I learned what a Mojo was as I watched him spin the morning dew off his wings.
I was sitting on a crooked stool sinking in about 8’’ of pure muck and corn stalks, all while cursing my $50 freezing cold waders. I was constructing a plan in my mind to sell these pieces of crap as soon as we left the marsh. Even though cold, I was still pumped because it was only minutes from shooting time.
3-2-1 shooting time. I hear booms in the distance, then another, and a few more. This lasted for about 10 minutes from all around us. None too close to us, and none from us, still it was exhilarating hearing what I could only imagine war sounding like in the distance. Our time would come soon, I hoped.
A half hour had passed and the first shots of morning were slowing, people were actually already limited out. I didn't know it at the time, but I was in a waterfowl mecca, people travel from all over to hunt this area of the USA. Plus Grand Pass CA is very well known, at any time it can hold 300,000 ducks on less than 8,000 acres, it’s a lot of birds to say the least. I was drifting in and out of thought, contemplating just how much pumpkin pie I ate the last day or so…. Looking around and thinking this area was beautiful…. I was… KAH BOOM, I nearly jumped off my stool! I looked over to see my Uncle getting up and after a drake ringneck duck that had dive bombed our decoys. Holy crap, that happened so quickly, I have to pay better attention. He retrieved his duck and said “hopefully you’re next, and that he didn't think I had seen it coming in.” He was right.
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| Future MO Hunt with Uncle John |
Another half hour passed, but hey with a dead duck it was already a success. “Joey, Joey get ready” my uncle said. I saw nothing. “A pair of mallards headed our way” He said. “Where!?” I whispered, “Easy, hold on, hold on,” he said while looking into the sky. “Oh, now I see them, they are right in front me…. Should I shoot now?” I thought. They were hovering our decoys looking for a hole to sit, the hen was almost to the water and the drake to follow. “Take em!” He yelled. The next 2 seconds seemed like 5 minutes, it was slow motion, I stood up, followed down the barrel of my gun to find my bead, past the bead I found the drake and simultaneously I clicked off the safety, straight and easy, BOOM! One shot and the drake splashed the water, KAH BOOM, the hen joined him in death.
Bum, boom, bum, boom, bum, boom, bum, boom my heart was beating out of my chest, I exhaled and was back in real time.
We didn't pull the trigger again that day, but what an experience that was, and it baffles me still that a single morning hunt has shaped who I am as a hunter and human. Seeing my friends and other first time duck hunters get hooked to the sport after a single hunt reminds every time of this trip to Grand Pass. That morning hunt in Missouri has imprinted in my memory as one of the best hunts of my life. It was my first duck hunt, and it was the day we only killed 3.
By: Joey W. Buttram
Willowpine Outdoors
