Shades of teal

Better start early to get jump on speedy ducks

Alan Thomas and Ruth inspect some of the bluewinged teal taken last Saturday on opening day of the early teal season at Lake Dardanelle.
Alan Thomas and Ruth inspect some of the bluewinged teal taken last Saturday on opening day of the early teal season at Lake Dardanelle.

LAKE DARDANELLE -- Never have I seen as many teal at one time as I saw last Saturday on opening day of the early teal season here.

My hunting partners were Alan Thomas of Russellville and Chuck Duncan of Pottsville. I was mildly perturbed when Al insisted on leaving the boat ramp at 3:30-4 a.m., but he was adamant. He said we had to go early to find a good place to hunt.

I thought he was overreacting. Opening day of teal season is popular on the sprawling reservoir, but we've never lacked for places to hunt. Starting at 4 a.m. was insane, especially because it meant I would have to get on the road at 1:45 a.m. I didn't get to sleep until about midnight.

I learned that teal hunting is more popular than it was last year. Teal numbers are at historic highs, and with a generous daily bag limit of six teal, hunters eagerly indulge in the opportunity. At 4 a.m., the Cabin Creek parking lot was packed and vehicles lined the auxiliary road. The inhabitants of all those vehicles were already gone. Al said 14 boats had already launched when he and Duncan arrived. Others launched after we left.

Fortunately, Al had scouted vigorously in the days leading up to the opener. His preferred spot was taken, but his secondary spot was open. It was a shallow flat off the Arkansas River where several islands formed a lagoon.

"I sat here yesterday and watched teal pile into this place all afternoon and evening," Al said. "There were probably a couple thousand. I didn't make any attempt to conceal myself. Just sat here in the wide open."

Two other hunters were in a floating blind on the other side of the far island. After setting out our decoys, Al and I walked across the flat to be neighborly and to assure them that our setup wouldn't interfere with theirs. They thought we were wildlife officers and had their licenses ready.

"We got checked at 11:30," one of the hunters said.

"Eleven-thirty ... at night?" I asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "We got here yesterday afternoon and slept in the boat. The game wardens got stuck getting over here and we had to show them how to get back out."

We sloshed back across the lagoon and waited for sunrise. It was surprisingly chilly, and we slugged down hot coffee and told bawdy jokes to keep our edge. Meanwhile, the shoreline looked like a string of lighthouses as hunters flashed beacons to warn away other boaters who were seeking places to hunt. We weren't exactly "Bayou Meto" close, but the open expanses made it seem that way.

Legal shooting time was sunrise, 6:55 a.m. The first bluewings arrived about 6:20 a.m. About a dozen landed in the decoys and matted together. We spoke softly and moved slowly, but we made no special effort to be unobtrusive. That's pointless because we knew that if 10,000 teal landed on us, they would all leave one minute before shooting time. They always do.

It happened about like that. Groups of 50, 75, 100 and more fogged in on us from every direction, some low enough to swat with a good swing of a shotgun stock. The wind rushing through their wings sounded like the jet in a hot air balloon. By 6:45, the water was covered with teal.

It was all too much for the campers across the lagoon. They opened fire a full 10 minutes before legal shooting time. They weren't the only ones. Gunfire erupted from all directions

"Sunrise!" Al yelled repeatedly. He must have shamed them because they didn't shoot again until well after sunrise, despite an abundance of easy targets. The wildlife officers noticed, too, because they paid them another visit.

Like clockwork, all of the birds that landed on us departed a minute or two before legal sunrise. However, about 500 settled a few yards off an island equidistant from us and the guys across the lagoon. They were beyond shooting range of everybody, and every teal that came over for the next 30 minutes landed with them. There were so many that they looked like a separate island.

Our meager decoy spread couldn't compete against that, so we agreed to shoot at the next birds that were borderline in range. We fired and missed at a group that sailed overhead, but the gunfire lifted that entire raft of ducks en masse. It was really something to see. Even more impressive was how they threaded between all of the hunters in that area without drawing a single shot.

And, just like that, the big flocks were gone. Singles, doubles and triples trickled in here and there, along with an occasional flock of 15-20 birds.

I walked to a small willow island to intercept birds slipping past our perimeter. Another group of hunters was on the other side of a larger island across a narrow channel, and yet another large group of hunters was at the far end of the channel. On the north bank of the river was a phalanx of hunters that stretched for probably a quarter of a mile. Every bird that flew down that shoreline was killed. My move cut off the one low escape path they had.

It took me a few shots to figure out how far to lead those lightning fast bluewings. Most of the passing shots required a lead of about 10 feet. Once I nailed down the lead, I bagged my limit of six teal relatively quickly. All were head shots. The bodies were as clean as a Baptist comedy club.

Al also got his six in fairly short order, including one really high bird. Duncan got one bird.

Al's 11 1/2-year old Labrador retriever Ruth found all of their birds, including those that fell in a dense mat of water hyacinth.

It was a bittersweet moment, because it was probably Ruth's last teal hunt. She moved gingerly at the end of the day. It seems like yesterday she was just a pup, coming off the bench to replace an incomparable retriever named Grace. Ruth doesn't plunge after downed ducks. She walks to them and walks back, and everyone knows you don't rush her.

We finished at 10 a.m. With only 90 minutes of sleep, I was running on fumes but felt oddly energized.

Hunting seasons have that effect on me.

Sports on 09/21/2014

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