Hank Yorke
Well-known member
My oldest son Henry is now 3 1/2 and is ate up with ducks and has a great desire to go hunting. On long road trips or when I am hunting he is quizing my wife on duck ID via the DU app on the iPad. At our house, mom's rule to be able to go hunting is that you have to be able to go potty, clean up, and wash your hands 100% yourself... A little crude, but it works for us. Anyway, he's been practicing, but getting less than stellar results 
So we had the tough conversation that it just wasn't going to happen this season, as December and January are no time for a little boy in a boat on moving water. Fast forward to the last week of duck season in the central zone of Indiana and I was getting things ready Friday night for a quick Saturday morning hunt. H, as usual, helps me pick out what gun to use and what decoys I should pack up and finally asks if I can shoot a Gadwall for him. "They are his favorite ducks because of the white on the wings, and their quacks sound like toots." Remember he is 3 1/2 Without a seconds thought I say "Sure, buddy. No problem." Then I started getting concerned, I've never had a request like this.
I got set up Saturday morning in a place I have killed Gadwall in the past. However, with young kids, new job and new home I haven't hunted this spot in over two years. At this point I have history, hopes, and dreams on my side, but not much else. About ten minutes before LST the ducks start moving. Group after group of mallards are landing in the 5 decoys H picked. 8 total groups land, only to get waved away in hopes of getting some Gadwall in. It's now about an hour and a half into shooting time with no Gadwall seen, let alone worked, and I am getting worried. I started talking to the dog, as I often do about this time in a hunt. Normally we get about an hour to two then the ducks stop moving. Out of the corner of my eye I see movement above us and figure it was just another hawk crossing over. Then I heard it, "the toot". Three Gadwall were circling, giving us a hard look. My heart was pounding like it hasn't pounded since I was 13 and in the spring Turkey woods. Finally, they committed, and I was able to carve the drake out of the middle of the two hens with him. After that, I never saw another bird, but I couldn't have been happier. H was so excited when I came home I thought he was going to hit the ceiling. He showed my wife probably 8 times before he was ready to help me clean it.
The next morning at breakfast he said, "Thanks for shooting that Gadwall dad, that was cool." Request fulfilled!
I just hope he doesn't want me to kill a Euro Wigeon next year.
So we had the tough conversation that it just wasn't going to happen this season, as December and January are no time for a little boy in a boat on moving water. Fast forward to the last week of duck season in the central zone of Indiana and I was getting things ready Friday night for a quick Saturday morning hunt. H, as usual, helps me pick out what gun to use and what decoys I should pack up and finally asks if I can shoot a Gadwall for him. "They are his favorite ducks because of the white on the wings, and their quacks sound like toots." Remember he is 3 1/2 Without a seconds thought I say "Sure, buddy. No problem." Then I started getting concerned, I've never had a request like this. I got set up Saturday morning in a place I have killed Gadwall in the past. However, with young kids, new job and new home I haven't hunted this spot in over two years. At this point I have history, hopes, and dreams on my side, but not much else. About ten minutes before LST the ducks start moving. Group after group of mallards are landing in the 5 decoys H picked. 8 total groups land, only to get waved away in hopes of getting some Gadwall in. It's now about an hour and a half into shooting time with no Gadwall seen, let alone worked, and I am getting worried. I started talking to the dog, as I often do about this time in a hunt. Normally we get about an hour to two then the ducks stop moving. Out of the corner of my eye I see movement above us and figure it was just another hawk crossing over. Then I heard it, "the toot". Three Gadwall were circling, giving us a hard look. My heart was pounding like it hasn't pounded since I was 13 and in the spring Turkey woods. Finally, they committed, and I was able to carve the drake out of the middle of the two hens with him. After that, I never saw another bird, but I couldn't have been happier. H was so excited when I came home I thought he was going to hit the ceiling. He showed my wife probably 8 times before he was ready to help me clean it.
The next morning at breakfast he said, "Thanks for shooting that Gadwall dad, that was cool." Request fulfilled!
I just hope he doesn't want me to kill a Euro Wigeon next year.
Last edited:
