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Hunter silhouette at sunset on the lake
Welcome to the December/January issue of Kentucky Monthly, one of two double issues published annually (the other is June/July).
Unofficially, I consider December/January The Waterfowl Issue. This will come as a surprise to my editor, but my reasoning is solid. In addition to Christmas, Hanukkah, the hanging of the green, New Year’s, winter solstice, shopping, cooking, reindeer, Scrooge, twinkle lights, presents, stockings, caroling, Mary, Joseph, the innkeeper, shepherds, the Christ child, candy, Christmas trees, fruit cake, Santa Claus, office parties and the myriad seasonal traditions and happenings celebrated across the Commonwealth and wrapped into the closing of one year and the opening of another, December and January include the bulk of Kentucky’s duck- and goose-hunting season. For some families, a Christmas or Christmas Eve morning duck hunt is a generations-long tradition.
Duck and goose hunters are generally a dedicated and conservation-minded bunch. They care deeply about the critters they hunt and work hard to assure the birds have the habitat necessary not only to survive but to thrive. This is important far beyond action in the duck blind or goose pit. Kentucky and the world beyond have their share of problems—climatic, political and others. But the appearance of a migrating v-wedge of geese or a string of ducks is a comforting reminder that somewhere, things are as they should be.
Duck and goose hunters also can be somewhat quirky, a by-product, perhaps, of the critters they chase. Waterfowl are seasonal travelers. They travel hundreds—sometimes thousands—of miles, their movements driven primarily by weather and water conditions, both of which are beyond the control of any hunter. Conditions can literally change overnight. The most challenging conditions—rain, cold, wind, sleet, snow or any combination thereof—can, but do not always, lead to the most productive hunting.
During a recent visit with my nephew, who lives in northwest Missouri near the Missouri River, the conversation turned to waterfowl season. Now a young husband and father, my nephew comes from a family of hunters, but he had never shown much interest in field sports. He told me he was thinking about duck hunting. I shared what I knew but recommended that he work with a local waterfowl guide.
“Just remember that the guide calls the shot,” I said.
“Calls the shot? What do you mean?”
“Yeah. Your guide tells everyone in the party when they can shoot. It’s important.”
Several years ago, when I was new to the outdoor editorial business, I accepted an invitation to a waterfowl hunt. I was also new to duck hunting.
The hunt was a standing timber hunt, meaning we donned waders (which I borrowed) and hunted in a patch of flooded timber. I’ve forgotten the specifics, but there were five or six hunters in our group. The guide—a tall, thin man with a bushy salt-and-pepper beard—was probably in his 40s but seemed older. As we were gathered in the timber in the chilly, predawn darkness, the guide explained where we would be positioned. He could handle the duck calling. The birds (if they arrived) would circle overhead, then drop into the timber.
“I’ll call the shot,” he said.
He asked if anyone was hunting “timber” for the first time. Mine was the only hand that went up.
He positioned us roughly in a circle. I could pick out some of the decoys that were scattered about, but in the shadowy darkness, it was difficult to see clearly. The guide unexpectedly appeared at my side. “You’ve never done this before?”
I shook my head.
“When the ducks start circling,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “it’s exciting.” He looked at me. “But don’t shoot ’til I say so.”
The sun had cleared the horizon when a handful of ducks appeared. They turned toward the guide’s expert calling. Then, for some unknown reason, they flared and were gone. A few minutes later, a few more appeared and homed in on the duck talk coming from the trees. The birds circled above us, lower with each pass.
“Get ready,” the guide said in a choked whisper.
He worked his call quietly. The birds made a couple more passes, lower each time. I cradled the Remington 870 I’d inherited from my father, my finger on the safety.
The birds swung around again, seemingly grazing the treetops. The guide had been right. It was exciting.
“BOOM!!” From my immediate left, a shotgun roared. A startling, unexpected blast that brought the morning to a stunning halt. The ducks vanished. Silence.
The guide waded past me and stood face to face with the hunter. He uttered a profanity, and then said, “I wish you’d killed that duck.”
The hunter, who was about the guide’s age, had misread the moment. “Me, too,” he said with a chuckle, then added a coarse comment meant to be a joke.
The guide leaned forward and spoke in a low whisper that was nearly a growl. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but the hunter unloaded his shotgun. His morning was done.
The guide walked past me. He glanced up, stone faced, eyes blazing.
“You did good,” he said without stopping.
. . .
You can find Kentucky waterfowl season dates, bag limits and other rules and regulations at fw.ky.gov/Hunt/Pages/Waterfowl-Hunting.aspx. Hunting for ducks, along with coots and mergansers, is open Dec. 7-Jan. 31, while gunning for Canada geese, along with white-fronted geese and brant, opened Nov. 23 and continues through Feb. 15. The sandhill crane season also is Dec. 7-Jan. 31.
Most of Kentucky’s public hunting areas are open for duck and goose hunting. Special regulations apply to several areas. A list of those can be found at fw.ky.gov/Hunt/Pages/Waterfowl-Public-Land-Hunts.aspx.
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For the last-minute holiday shopper, a few gift ideas for the outdoors person on your list can be found at theoutdoornotebook.net.
Wishing a safe and splendid holiday and New Year to all.
Readers may contact Gary Garth at editor@kentuckymonthly.com