Kenneth Kieser: Hunting ducks of the plains is a pleasurable challenge - Blue Springs Examiner
I need few excuses for returning to the plains of South Dakota. Throw in a duck hunt and there are few better times, especially when a bison steak is promised after the hunt.
Our guides had spent the previous day traveling on miles of gravel roads while studying a book of map grids. Page after page showed thousands of acres in reservation lands that were legal for our hunt, some laying between privately owned fields of row crops.
The addition of GPS made this search easier and binoculars were necessary to determine if ducks and geese were using these waterways.
"Ducks, hundreds of them on the lower end of this long slough," Mark Brendemuehl, territory manager for Avery Outdoors said while pointing to a map. "The entire upper end is covered in waterfowl. That's our hunt for tomorrow."
That night I finally drifted off to sleep when my phone's alarm clock made an irritating noise – five hours later. We quickly dressed and piled equipment in Brendemuehl's pickup truck for the short 15-minute drive.
On arrival we slipped a 12-foot Jon boat into the upper end of the duck-infested slough and found the clear water extremely shallow. Flashlight beams showed the bottom was inches under the surface in some areas and a foot deep in others.
Hunting on a Lakota reservation waterway filled with sediment accumulated a thousand years or more presents unexpected problems. Ancient mud molds to wader boots and is almost impossible to walk through.
Several hundred ducks were flying over the slough, making us more determined to pull a boat loaded with guns, decoys and camera equipment. Coot, a 10-year-old black Labrador retriever moaned a high-pitched whine while watching a flock of ducks passing overhead.
The eastern horizon showed traces of dawn breaking, a reminder that members of the Lakota tribes once looked at this same sight while hunting for life-sustaining wild game, including buffalo once common across the plains.
A feeling in the mild, cool breeze felt gentle and good, as if spirits of the mighty Lakota tribes were sending their presence to those with flesh and blood visiting their sacred lands; this time with permission gained from existing tribal members by purchasing a Sisseton-Wahpeton Sioux Tribe Game, Fish and Parks Program Hunting, Fishing and Trapping permit that cost $156 per hunter.
The boat worked well for floating equipment across the shallows, occasionally with all hunters on board. However, wading was required and the ancient mud made forward progress difficult and sometimes impossible.
Brendemuehl took several steps in an opening through the reeds and both feet immediately sunk down until his crotch was touching mud. His left foot came out of the wader boot as he struggled to escape and soon his foot was pointed forward and his boot was turned the opposite direction. He finally wiggled out of his waders and with great difficulty, pulling the trapped boots free.
We eventually reached our intended hunting spot and found a crosswind whipping down the shore that would provide ducks perfect conditions for landing. Diving duck decoys, mostly scaup and redheads, were scattered out about 20 to 30 yards from our hiding spots in the thick, deep reeds. We didn't have long to wait while being positioned exactly where the ducks wanted to be.
Brendemuehl started calling to a passing flock of mallards that made a couple of turns before settling into our open spot between the decoys. Four shots brought down two greenheads quickly retrieved by Coot, not the best shooting but at least two quality ducks. Soon flocks of scaup, redheads, spoonbills, mergansers and teal filled the air.
"Greenwings coming around," Brendemuehl whispered. "They're coming straight in."
The flock of about 30 greenwing teal made one quick pass before settling in to land. This time our shooting improved and four ducks floated in the decoys.
Then the winds came. The lands we were hunting in northeastern South Dakota were comprised of flatland mixed with rolling hills. Winds suddenly picked up to about 35 mph out of the northwest, making shots even more difficult as flocks of ducks rode the winds.
A pair of scaup buzzed our decoys and our shots created an unforgettable reaction. Both ducks turned straight up like fighter jets at an airshow, then flattened out with the wind on their tails and quickly buzzed out of sight. The blazing speed required was astonishing.
Minutes later a pair of gadwalls flashed by and turned back into the wind to land. Both quality ducks met loads of No. 3 steel shot and were soon retrieved by the anxious Coot.
The winds grew stronger as if the Lakota spirits were sending a message. Sunlight warmed the air temperature up to the low 40s, but the slashing winds made the warmth of our waders and waterfowl parkas welcome.
I started studying the surrounding fields and hills, wondering how many Lakota warriors had once ridden their ponies across this terrain to fight soldiers or white settlers. After all, they only were doing what any decent people would do, defending their homes and families.
These sloughs no doubt provided many good duck or goose meals for these hearty people. Some may have used nets to capture their meals.
Small pox and other diseases threatened the tribes. Drought, severe winters, starvation and other hardships made survival challenging.
I was brought out of my daydream as Brendemuehl whispered "ducks" when two mallards swung past and turned to land. They must have spotted us, they swiftly altered their course and slipped upward into the stiff wind. We both took aim but decided not to shoot. The ducks were almost immediately out of sight.
The day's hunt ended with limits filled and a tired black Labrador retriever. Picking up decoys in the relentless mud and heavy winds provided another challenge to already tired hunters who had shared time with gentle spirits of the Lakota Nations.
Kenneth Kieser, a veteran outdoors writer and member of the Waterfowlers Hall of Fame and National Fresh Water Fishing Hall of Fame, writes a weekly outdoors column for The Examiner. Reach him at kieserkenneth@gmail.com.
Comments
Post a Comment