Our Mallards

I have been an avid duck hunter for nearly twenty years now. My most meaningful hunt to date however happened only a few years back.
As I stood in a cramped, stuffy factory one evening, my thoughts were inundated with what the following morning’s adventure could bring. It was the night before opening migratory bird season. (Duck Huntin’)
I was also thinking of my son who was only five at the time and who was fast asleep at home. I wanted to include him in the opening morning excitement. I concocted a plan for the following day and to my displeasure the rest of the shift seemed to last for an eternity.
Upon arriving home, I crept with extreme stealth about the house, tip toeing from closet to closet to gather all items needed to carry out my plot.
I rescued a couple of old, and rather beat up mallard decoys from the depths of my hunting gear and brought them back to life to have the full blown duck hunting effect.
My next task was to create a camouflage outfit of a junior size. Luckily enough I had an old tattered pair of paintball coveralls that I had kept in the back of the closet for an occasion such as this. (I have always had a real problem with parting with camo).
With scissors, hot glue, and a some handy stitch work, a fantastic “little man” camo outfit was fabricated that evening.
I laid out our outfits, decoys, thermos’s, and gear and headed up to bed for an extremely short sleep.
When the alarm went off the following morning , my eyes were reluctant to open , however, I managed to pry my head sluggishly from my pillow and made my way to the little fellow’s room to give him a shake. When he gained his senses and realized that I was asking him to go duck hunting with me,he quickly threw off his covers, jumped from his bed and we both headed downstairs. He seemed quite excited to see our gear displayed out on the floor and was quite impressed with his new outfit. It was almost as if Santa had come he said and quickly donned his camo.
Fortunately for us the hunting spot of preference was a five minute walk from our front door.This spot was perfect for a first timer as it seldom had any other hunters and I felt more comfortable if it were just him and I.
As we perambulated down the small bush trail, the dry autumn leaves crushed under our feet and the sweet smell of wild apples pleasantly graced our nostrils. The path was quite blear due to our early jump on the day but we proceeded with caution. The end of the trail touched on an inlet of Georgian Bay and had a small swampy cove complete with reeds and cattails and all of the scenery that made for a delectable habitat for our migratory friends.
We decided on one particular spot as it offered wonderful natural camouflage with utilizing the surrounding reeds and it closely bordered the water and made for fairly east decoy placement.
After situating ourselves in the reeds, I proceeded to wade out into the little shallow inlet to set out our fake feathered friends.
The boy had the important job of holding my gun, in a safe manor and unloaded of course and seemed to take great pride in doing so.
After wading back to our makeshift blind of reeds, we somewhat made ourselves comfortable.
I fiddled around in my hunting tote for a few minutes until I found the duck call I had packed.
The call greatly amused my son and in no time we were making greeting calls, hail calls, feeding rasps and some come back calls.
We were masters.
The early morning mist seemed to blanket us but lightened with every inch of the bright orange sun’s rising.Along with the rising of the sun came the almost war like sounds of guns firing in the distance.We were quite entertained by this and almost forgot about our calling.
We could see a lot of ducks flying further out in the cove but nothing at this point had came close enough for us to take a poke at.
A few minutes later however, something almost magical happened.
With out any warning, two big, plump Mallards flew in and hovered right in front of us above our decoys.
With my son’s eyes fixed on the ducks, I quickly stood up and with a couple snappy squeezes of the trigger we had harvested our first game together.
Turning back to look at my son was one of the most memorable moments of my life.
With his eyes bulging like ping-pong balls and a smile from ear to ear, he proudly yelled “ya got em’ dad”
I quickly replied “no Jaker’ ”, “we got em’”
This was the beginning of a great hunting partnership, and what better partner to have than your boy.