OUTDOOR

Tales and Trails

Here we are, the last week of 2022, and another outdoor year is behind us. How can that be? We blew through all of the fishing and hunting seasons (with the exception of late season archery which is still going on) and now they are all over and done. When we hit the archery season everything seemed to happen so fast. There were outdoor stories that I never told you about so today is the day when I catch you up on one of them.

I need to go back to when I was 12 years old, growing up on the Mississippi River in southern Wisconsin. Once I completed my hunter’s safety class my chase for small game began. Three hunting spots are hallowed ground, but only to me: Where I bagged my first squirrel, my first rabbit, and my first duck, and in that order. It took me a lot longer and a lot more shells to put that first mallard in my pack. but duck hunting quickly became my favorite pastime.

The older I got the more invested I became in duck hunting. Every year I seemed to gather more and different decoys and calls. Even after I purchased my first bow at age 16, I still spent more time in the back sloughs and swamps than I did in a tree stand. That lasted until the early years of adulthood when duck numbers dwindled to the point where a box of shells would last the entire season. That was when my fall focus shifted to archery bucks.

Nowadays, I still get out once or twice a year but instead of setting up over a spread of decoys I hit up a local trout stream and jump shoot them. Jump shooting is a little misleading because sometimes it means that the ducks get the jump on me. Every now and again, the duck gods smile on me.

I parked far enough away from the stream so as not give away my presence or my intentions. It was a blessing and a curse that we just had the first snowfall of the year. The blessing was that it made my approach stealthy quiet, but the curse was that my camo clothing really stuck out against the blanket of white snow covering everything. I peeked over and around the edge of the snow that covered the grass and brush. I could see one hen mallard and two drake mallards. The only issue was whether I could loop back around and slip in close enough for a shot. I backed out and approached the stream, about 100 yards upstream from where I thought they were.

To make a longer story a little shorter, I thought the ducks had given me the slip and was about to stand up so I could see the entire stretch of trout stream when the ducks suddenly swam out from behind the bank side of the stream and into my view. Without warning they all leaped into flight and took off in three different directions. The hen was the closest and was headed east when I fired shot number one and then swung towards the first drake that was heading north. I hesitated slightly after that shot to make sure that it connected and that cost me as the last mallard was headed west and quickly. I shot one more time out of reflex and instinct, but he was probably out of range when I did so and he escaped safely. No matter, two ducks were plenty for a meal. I guess that little part of my duck hunting youth lives on in me and probably always will.

Didn’t get enough Dave this week? Visit “Outdoor Trails and Tales with Dave Beck” on Facebook for photos and video of Dave’s adventures. You can share your own photos and video with him there as well, or by emailing him at [email protected] Also, check out OTT content on Instagram @ thepiercecountyjournal