Rick Pierce
Well-known member
Got up early yesterday morning and drug Laura with me to go try and kill a few ducks. We met up with Ronnie Ladd (SwampHunter) and took the Arkansas Flooded Timber Boat Ride. For those of you who don't know, it involves going full speed through the boat road in the timber out to the main river channel. I'll have to film it sometime; it's hard to say which is more impressive, going through the trees in the dark, lit only by spotlight, or coming back after the hunt in broad daylight when you can see everything.
Anyway, we hit the channel, then cut back in to the woods to a spot Ronnie and I had hunted the day before. An old slough creates an opening between an oak flat and taller cypress/tupelo swamp. We fought ice on Saturday, and the birds were reluctant to commit, but everything was open yesterday morning. Five minutes before shooting time, Laura is standing next to a tree, gun loaded and waiting, as 8 mallards fluttered down and lit. Ronnie was pushing the boat back into the brush to hide it, and the ducks couldn't take it. They left and were the only mallards we would get into the hole all morning. Before I type much more, I should add that the purpose of this trip was to get Laura a wood duck. She's always wanted to shoot one, and our wood duck trips have never worked out. Raining, frozen, you name it.
So, there we stand, and roughly two minutes before shooting time, a few wood ducks move through, then all quiet. Shooting time comes and goes (6:32), we get a couple passing shots, Laura (the only shooter) misses, it gets quiet again, and Laura says, "Please, God don't let that be it..."
Apparently, He was listening.
A pair of woodies came screaming in from right to left, swooped down, and hovered over the decoys 15 feet away. She dropped a bird, her first wood duck, and that was like the start of a race. We were in a wood duck tornado - there were birds coming through the little slough from everywhere. It was a comedy of "shoot that bird...no, wait, more from the right...omigod, from right behind us..." At 7:30, six wood ducks laid on the bow of the boat, the last being a drake Laura dropped to finish her two-bird limit on an overhead passing shot. She pulled the trigger, the bird folded and arced down through the trees. Five drakes, one hen (the hen was mine...bad call on a single that caught me by surprise, but it was a beautiful shot). I left the camera in the truck on purpose - call it superstition, call it "didn't want the camera to get soaked if/when I took a spill in the timber".
We waited until about 8:30, but the few mallards we saw refused to work into the trees on a totally overcast day, so we called the hunt a success and pulled the decoys. Motored out through the timber, flushed more wood ducks on the way, hit the channel, and back to full throttle and Part II of the Boat Trail ride. Yeehaw! Little advice - keep your hands inside the boat. Don't grab the gunwale to hang on - good way to get a finger crushed or crushed off.
With ducks behind us, we took off after trout on the Little Red. I'd packed my vest and the flyrods, and Ronnie grabbed his gear at his house. The boat ride on the Red was not quite as exciting - an 8-horse motor on a 14-foot jon boat with three people. Still, we had the river literally to ourselves. There was not another soul within sight all day. I motored up one of the islands that I know, and we parked below a shoal where the brown trout are still spawning and stacked up like cordwood. Unfortunately, no big fish; didn't see anything in the shoal over about 20", but we had a fun time casting and drifting nymphs, soft hackles, midge pupae, and everything else to the fish with other things on their minds. I had hoped we would see and get the chance to cast to a few of the really big fish in the 30"+ range, but Laura took several nice fish, including her first brown trout on a fly, Ronnie caught a good, solid brown, a brook, and others, and I even scraped out a few while helping Laura and just enjoying being back on the river. A bald eagle watched us from his vantage point upriver the whole time.
The day that started at 2:30 saw us pull into the drive at the house at 8:30 p.m. tired, but happy. It was a day of firsts, spent with good friends, and it doesn't take much else. Everyone should be so lucky...
Anyway, we hit the channel, then cut back in to the woods to a spot Ronnie and I had hunted the day before. An old slough creates an opening between an oak flat and taller cypress/tupelo swamp. We fought ice on Saturday, and the birds were reluctant to commit, but everything was open yesterday morning. Five minutes before shooting time, Laura is standing next to a tree, gun loaded and waiting, as 8 mallards fluttered down and lit. Ronnie was pushing the boat back into the brush to hide it, and the ducks couldn't take it. They left and were the only mallards we would get into the hole all morning. Before I type much more, I should add that the purpose of this trip was to get Laura a wood duck. She's always wanted to shoot one, and our wood duck trips have never worked out. Raining, frozen, you name it.
So, there we stand, and roughly two minutes before shooting time, a few wood ducks move through, then all quiet. Shooting time comes and goes (6:32), we get a couple passing shots, Laura (the only shooter) misses, it gets quiet again, and Laura says, "Please, God don't let that be it..."
Apparently, He was listening.
A pair of woodies came screaming in from right to left, swooped down, and hovered over the decoys 15 feet away. She dropped a bird, her first wood duck, and that was like the start of a race. We were in a wood duck tornado - there were birds coming through the little slough from everywhere. It was a comedy of "shoot that bird...no, wait, more from the right...omigod, from right behind us..." At 7:30, six wood ducks laid on the bow of the boat, the last being a drake Laura dropped to finish her two-bird limit on an overhead passing shot. She pulled the trigger, the bird folded and arced down through the trees. Five drakes, one hen (the hen was mine...bad call on a single that caught me by surprise, but it was a beautiful shot). I left the camera in the truck on purpose - call it superstition, call it "didn't want the camera to get soaked if/when I took a spill in the timber".
We waited until about 8:30, but the few mallards we saw refused to work into the trees on a totally overcast day, so we called the hunt a success and pulled the decoys. Motored out through the timber, flushed more wood ducks on the way, hit the channel, and back to full throttle and Part II of the Boat Trail ride. Yeehaw! Little advice - keep your hands inside the boat. Don't grab the gunwale to hang on - good way to get a finger crushed or crushed off.
With ducks behind us, we took off after trout on the Little Red. I'd packed my vest and the flyrods, and Ronnie grabbed his gear at his house. The boat ride on the Red was not quite as exciting - an 8-horse motor on a 14-foot jon boat with three people. Still, we had the river literally to ourselves. There was not another soul within sight all day. I motored up one of the islands that I know, and we parked below a shoal where the brown trout are still spawning and stacked up like cordwood. Unfortunately, no big fish; didn't see anything in the shoal over about 20", but we had a fun time casting and drifting nymphs, soft hackles, midge pupae, and everything else to the fish with other things on their minds. I had hoped we would see and get the chance to cast to a few of the really big fish in the 30"+ range, but Laura took several nice fish, including her first brown trout on a fly, Ronnie caught a good, solid brown, a brook, and others, and I even scraped out a few while helping Laura and just enjoying being back on the river. A bald eagle watched us from his vantage point upriver the whole time.
The day that started at 2:30 saw us pull into the drive at the house at 8:30 p.m. tired, but happy. It was a day of firsts, spent with good friends, and it doesn't take much else. Everyone should be so lucky...
