While placing the 150 or so full-body decoys, it was plainly obvious that the ducks had, in fact, been gorging themselves of peanuts the afternoon before. Thousands of ducks. Mallards mostly. Tracks on top of tracks on top of duck tracks imprinted fawn-colored sand that stretched to the horizon.
Tumbleweeds, barbed wire fences, shin oaks, mesquites and sand; it looked nothing like anything I'd ever duck hunted. Guide Bill Johnson just chuckled, "I told you! Let's finish getting set so we can see the tornado!" By tornado, he meant mallards.
LSU fan extrodanaire, Chad Hebert, and I quickly brushed the layout blinds that had been placed in an adjacent fencerow bordering the section of sandy peanut field. Towards the center of the field, an idle circle-pivot towered in stark contrast to the barren, wind-swept peanut field.
So this is Oklahoma duck hunting, I thought.
We had been settled for less than a half hour when the first flocks of mallards began to stream from the north into the field. "Ducks," Bill hissed from a couple blinds down. It took some squinting, but I eventually saw the tiny black dots to which he refered, about a mile distant of our location. As they closed the gap to within about a half-mile, our chorus of loud hails and calls erupted and the swarm of black duck turned on a dime, bee-lining it towards our spread. That's when things got interesting.
From an altitude some might refrain from even calling to ducks, the flock of about a hundred responded by forming a tight funnel. A few dropped immediately into the decoys, like cinder blocks tossed from a plane, drawing the remainder of the flock abruptly near. Unlike battle-weary mallards warily circling an Arkansas rice-field pit blind, the flock was quickly in our laps with one short pass. My lower jaw was still ajar in amazement as I mounted my shotgun. Shotgun blasts reverberated down the line. And before red sand had broken the first greenhead's fall, our faces had creased into lasting smiles. Thousands of working mallards can affect men like that.
Nevermind that a flock of Canadas landed across the field and sucked most of the afternoon mallard flight into a growing spread of live decoys. Witnessing thousands of mallards funneling into the field was worth the price of admission; it was perfectly fitting - and perfectly unforgettable - for our first Oklahoma duck hunting experience and we couldn't wait to see what the following morning brought.
The Oklahoma duck hunting strategy is to hunt water in the mornings and peanut fields in the afternoons. Bill explained that, "For some reason, it seems like 10-times the numbers of ducks hit the fields during the afternoon. And while they always hit water immediately after feeding on peanuts, it's usually after shooting hours before they fly into ponds in the afternoons. We hunt thirsty ducks in the mornings."
The following morning was cold and slightly overcast. There wasn't near enough wind to steer ducks, which is unusual for Oklahoma. After staking several dozen full-body mallards into inches-deep riffles of a river bend, we took positions in forest cover along the forested riparian. Hidden in the low-hanging canopy of a large cedar, I was elevated about 20-30 feet above the decoys. An interesting vantage point to say the least.
"The mallards will be coming from over a roost over there," Bill pointed out, "And will be headed to those peanut fields we hunted yesterday. A few will mosey by to give us a look-see, but it won't get
right until they leave the peanut fields mid-morning and come back with a thirst that won't quit, like eating salty peanuts at a summer baseball game."
With a knowing grin he added, "Just wait. You'll see." We waited. And boy did we see!
A mallard quartet kicked things off, appearing out of nowhere and working the decoys. Not drunk-sailor-to-nickel-beer intense, but not disinterested either. After some seductive pleas from teh calls, they finally made a low pass and 2 greenheads cart-wheeled smacked shallow water, sounding like feeding bass among lilypads. For the first hour of shooting time, we watched flocks parade directly from the roost to far away peanut fields, erring occaisonally from their flight path for high, unconcerned looks at the decoys. The sun had completely risen before the real players arrived.
Calling sparingly, because there's no point in calling to hard-working ducks, flocks of mallards made a few test passes to get the wind right, then swung hard and low into the decoys with the heart-stopping swoosh of locked wings that makes time stand still. They were eye-ball level when shots was called - look at the whites of their eyes! Below the river's top-bank, green-headed kamikaze flocks ran a gauntlet of gunfire with greenheads dropping as they passed we 3 awaiting hunters. Guide Aaron Kelly's yellow lab, Boogie, made quick work of recovering mallards from ankle-deep river water.
The scenario repeated itself at intervals that made for a purely enjoyable, full-morning hunt. Like the very best of mallard hunts. Bill indulged us a few "tall shots" - a whopping 25 yards off the deck - on birds that had buggered off-track in variable yet waning wind.
Chad and I were amazed by how many peanuts gluttonous, well-fattened Oklahoma mallards stuffed into their craws. It was like picking up a wool stockings stretched full with Christmas chocolates. The limit is 5 mallards in Oklahoma. When Boogies retrieves numbered 15 we called it a morning. Like another day at the office, just another morning of Oklahoma duck hunting.
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