Lucky Duck
when preparation meets opportunity
At some point in my Catholic school upbringing, I was told a story about two farmers that feels powerfully connected to my experience as a young duck hunter.
Both farmers lived in a town that had been in a drought throughout the growing season.
Both farmers prayed to God profusely to send them rain.
One farmer prepared his crops for the rain.
The other did not; he only prayed.
When the rain finally arrived, the farmer who was prepared rejoiced as the water fell over his crops.
The farmer who was not prepared scrambled to get his seeds in the ground, but his fields flooded before he could finish, and the season was a waste.
The moral of the story is simple: dam the river above your house, and in the case of a drought, you have a consistent water supply. Or, get your fields ready.
Recently, I had my fields prepared, and the rain started falling.
Since I started duck hunting, I’ve been told by multiple people that scouting is the most important aspect of a successful hunt. This was clear during my first solo hunt back in October, when I arrived at the spot and learned that the pond I planned to hunt was bone dry. The rainy season had yet to begin, and I felt foolish as I googled whether ducks could even land on dry land. Now, I’ve learned my lesson and do my best to get out and familiarize myself with the area before arriving the morning of the hunt.
On the Tuesday of Thanksgiving week, I flew out of the office after wrapping up my work early. Upon arrival at the spot, I felt some positivity when a group of mallards flew in and landed in the flooded field. As I walked out to explore the various blinds, I saw another group coming in to land, and behind them, another one! Soon enough, the sky was full. In an instant, the mission changed from scouting to hunting. I rushed back to the truck and grabbed my decoys.
The weather was perfect. Ducks like it when it’s shitty, and boy, it was shitty. The wind blew at 10-15 mph out of the Northeast, a steady drizzle pelted me, and the temperature hovered just 5 degrees above freezing. The be bold, start cold mentality would have been helpful here because I built up a serious sweat while hauling decoys and gear through a half mile of mud en route to the blind. Within 15 minutes of settling in, all that sweat and rain had soaked me, and my body was shaking.
This blind sits in 2 feet of water, which means I am also sitting in 2 feet of water. I soon realized that any chance I had of being warm was ruined. Nonetheless, my mind was occupied.
The action in the sky had not stopped, and the birds continued to fly. With each group, I did my best to entice them to land with a few quacks from my duck call. After being rejected more times than I’d care to admit, a duck finally committed. Before I knew it, he had plopped down just on the edge of my decoys.
I stood to shoot, he jumped in the air, and I missed. Then, I missed again. And then, I missed a third time. Rough shooting, Tex. I felt like a buffoon, to put it nicely. After some internal review, I decided it might be time to “lock in,” as my fellow Gen Z’ers say.
With a thirst for revenge, I reloaded and got ready for the next opportunity. It came sooner than expected when a large group flew in from my left side.
WHAM! I swung and shot the first duck in the group without hesitation. He instantly folded and dropped into the water in front of me. He still had a bit of life in him, so like a fishing boat off the coast of Venezuela, I blasted him one more time. If I were a better hunter, I probably could’ve killed at least one more of the group.
Launching out of the blind, I went to collect the bird. A beautiful drake mallard, the first I had ever shot.
The rest of the day was more of the same. A lot of misses and a few really good shots. I finished the day with three ducks, frozen fingers, and a smile the size of Texas.
My intention had not been to hunt when I set out after work. My intention had been to scout, to prepare my fields for another day. Maybe it was a reward from the powers that be, maybe it was pure luck. I’m inclined to think it was a little of both.
Either way, it can’t hurt to be ready, because as Seneca supposedly said,
“Luck is when preparation meets opportunity.”
A fun read. I was shivering with you as I read. I do not like to be wet much less cold and wet. 😍
I love this story. I reminds me of my first attempts at duck hunting when I was in college. I went through a lot of shells with very few ducks to show for it, but I had a great time doing it!