By John LaRussa

The third Monday in January is always a relief for my winter doldrums. Historically it is more than the prime time for waterfowl hunting here in the Southeast. It is the long Martin Luther King holiday weekend which makes it the perfect time for our annual Father/Son Arkansas Duck hunting trip. Instead of entertaining clients and guests at the hunting lodges, I get to spend quality time with my son. Unlike many trips, half the fun of a hunt is the planning. My son and I spend hours going through all of our clothes and equipment taking careful inventory of what we may need.
This creates the perfect excuse to go to Mark’s Outdoors to buy new stuff and to burn that Christmas gift certificate.
Our caravan pulled out on Friday, January 14 with a group of excited 12 to 45 year old kids. In six short hours we arrived at the 10,000 square foot lodge in Watson, Arkansas. After a week of 70 degree winter weather the new forecast predicted a freeze for most of the weekend. This would be just what we needed to get the local birds flying and a push of new ones from the North. After we settled in the lodge, the boys anxiously headed off to the sporting clay range to compete on doubles and triples while the dads sat around the outside fire-pit watching the games.

The conversations were refreshing. It seems we all had similar issues with adolescence and the importance of being here. As I watched my son and the other boys, I realized that the years I’d spent harping on safety and repeating “Put the safety on” and “Don’t point that gun at anybody” had paid off. These boys knew what to do. They had listened and the power of the outdoors was working.

Our first morning was early and bitterly cold with highs in the 20’s. (By the way a plastic CD case makes for a good windshield ice scraper.) We divided up into foursomes and went our different ways. We were all just excited to be there. Some of the group had the luxury of a heated pontoon boat that resembled something out of Apocalypse Now, while others went to submerged blinds in flooded rice fields and standing timber holes. At the morning’s end, the standing timbers group got a good limit.

We returned to the lodge and enjoyed a hearty breakfast. The younger boys headed back to the shooting range to hit as many clays as they could. Thank goodness those are cheap. The older, seasoned boys rested in preparation for the afternoon Quail hunt which is always plenty of fun and a lot of action.

The afternoon brought entertainment through the fun of the hunt and the awe of watching a good pointer work. It is truly a natural wonder to witness the ability of these animals’ sense of smell and their discipline to hold a point. I love the sound of “Hunt 'em up!” and “Dead bird!”

The next morning we had two groups go to the standing timbers and my group rolled the dice and went to a small pot hole in a rice field about twenty minutes away. We put a small spread of 12 decoys in the pond and crouched low to the ground as the first wave of Mallards buzzed us. We whispered to our sons, “Stay still, don’t look up.” Our heartbeats made us shake with excitement. The temperature of the morning played no part in our trembling. The birds worked closer and closer. The last pass you could hear their wings and their grunting. I questioned myself about missing the opportunity that had just passed as they disappeared behind the timbers. But just as quick as that thought entered my mind they turned and came back with a few "ticka- ticka-ticka" feeder calls. They cupped their wings and with their blaze orange feet out in front and breasts in full view, we yelled, “Take ’em!” It was intense.

When the smoke cleared we had three green heads and one hen down. Still shaking with excitement, my son looked at me and said, “Dad, did you see the one I got?” Admittedly, I was just as excited as my son to get my own bird. But somehow, I saw it all.

Although the temperature never got above freezing that day in Arkansas, it was never cold to us. Throughout the morning we had many more passes of Mallards and Pintails. As we worked them closer every time we began to sense the beauty in these birds. The iridescent colors were reflecting off of the morning sun. Many times their patterns of flight and various sounds caused us to work them closer not with shots of a gun in mind, but to get a better look at these incredible creatures.

We finished the day with a limit, but the conversation on the ride home was more of wonder in how they fly like that and the shear beauty and colors of their feathers. There was sense of irony as we finished our holiday hunting weekend where the admiration of color and unknown physics of birds in flight brought us together and through that beauty and happiness we shared in making another memory.

John LaRussa is owner of Alternate Path Adventures and regularly writes about his experiences in several media publications. If you would like more information on this trip or others please contact John at the following number.
(205) 313-4828
www.alternatepath.com