FOWL WEATHER

SNOW PLAN GETS HUNTERS OUT FOR DUCKS

STAFF PHOTOS FLIP PUTTHOFF 
Alan Bland of Rogers gets decoys ready during a duck hunt on Monday at Beaver Lake. Boat ramps were iced over so a canoe came in handy to get to the water.
STAFF PHOTOS FLIP PUTTHOFF Alan Bland of Rogers gets decoys ready during a duck hunt on Monday at Beaver Lake. Boat ramps were iced over so a canoe came in handy to get to the water.

— The first bout of winter weather couldn’t have been better for jumpstarting duck season here in our corner of the Ozarks. There was only one problem - getting to the water.

Snow and ice buried access roads and boat ramps. Life and limb were at risk if you hit the highway, and who in their right mind would drive on that ice pulling a boat? Maybe we were in our left minds, but we figured out a way to squeeze in a duck hunt on Monday afternoon.

It turned out that Monday was the worst for driving during the wintry weather. I can testify it’s true because, like a dummy, I kept an appointment in town Monday morning and drove on in. The highway was an ice rink the whole way. Tension was soothed by knowing we’d be at Beaver Lake that afternoon hunting ducks under a lead-colored sky.

Alan Bland of Rogers and I came up with a scheme to beat the snow. We’d load my canoe on the truck, pack a dozen decoys and our shotguns, then drive to the end of a familiar county road that ended at the lake. From there it’s a short paddle to a shoreline point where we do some duck hunting.

Normally we get there with a motorboat from a launch ramp, not by canoe from a dead-end road.

I stood by the truck Monday afternoon waiting for my hunting buddy. The ice meant slow and careful going, even in his four-wheel-drive pickup. Unlike the treacherous state highway, the little road that goes by my house was clear. That’s because a good neighbor with a tractor and a front-end loader plows it before the county crew arrives. He even clears all our driveways.

Off we went down the dry pavement. Things got slick soon as we hit the gravel. I was thankful for my tire chains. Bland’s four-wheel drive was handy.

The lake was about 50 yards away, down a slight hill. Our plan was to load all our gear into the canoe and pull it like a sled. Surely it’d slide along easily over the snow. The boat slid along all right, but not like we hoped. Huffing and puffing got it to the water.

Not only that, our chosen route was overgrown with briars, small cedar trees and fallen timber. Both of us took at least one tumble into the deep snow pushing and pulling the canoe to the water. Wading through the winter wonderland wasn’t the easiest in our insulated coveralls and chest waders.

The temperature was in the mid-20s. A stiff wind from the north whipped up waves on the big lake. Five minutes of paddling got us to our hunting spot. Bland waded into the water and set up his mechanical Mojo Mallard decoy with wings that spin. I tossed the 12 regular decoys into the shallows near the point. The bottom was sand, not the usual gravel.

The Beaver Lake level right now is good for duck hunting. There’s flooded weeds and brush that ducks like. Willow bushes are close to the shoreline and make fine, natural duck blinds. Our decoy spread looked good, the north wind was at our backs and we were ready to welcome some mallards.

We each chose a willow bush and sat among the branches. There was an iced-over puddle about the size of a bathtub between us. Walking to the bush, I stepped in front of the puddle and in a whipstitch sank in the muck up to my thighs. I can only describe it as quicksand.

Over years of hunting ducks on Beaver Lake neither of us had encountered this mucky sand. It was like sinking in chocolate pudding. I was able to crawl out and take my seat in the cover of the nearby bush.

WAITING GAME

We didn’t see a single duck flying while we set out decoys. A half-hour later, still no ducks. We chit-chatted, solving all the world’s problems, then Bland said “Ducks!” in a loud whisper.

Seven mallards were in the sky 200 yards out. A few quacks on the call and they turned our way. We had their attention so it was shut-up time with the duck call. The mallards circled behind while we sat still as stone.

Moving only our eyes, we watched two ducks break away from the group. The other five circled low and gave our decoys a look before flying off to join their two buddies, wherever they were headed.

“I thought you were going to shoot,” Bland said. One, maybe two of those mallards were 20 yards away from ending up in a pot of gumbo, I told my friend. That much closer and I might have shot.

Another pod of mallards flew by, but landed by a small island way out in the waves. A soaring bald eagle evidently saw the ducks and headed toward them. Those mallards took off and were probably in Fort Smith by the time we called it a day. The low light told us sundown was near.

We unloaded our guns and waded out to fetch the decoys. Bland forgot about the quicksand and stepped right in it. Down he went up to his hips in muck. Any deeper and it could have been trouble. We’d never seen anything like it. Not only that, the stuff had an odor of sulfur.

Paddling back to where we started, Bland and I agreed that we’d enjoyed a typical Beaver Lake duck hunt. Over east, hunters aren’t satisfied unless they kill a limit. Here, it’s a good hunt if you see some ducks. It’s a great hunt if you get some shooting and maybe bag a duck or two.

To hunt ducks at Beaver, you’ve got to want to be there, even when the weather is the worst.

Outdoor, Pages 6 on 12/12/2013

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