OUTDOORS: Good ol’ boys take on the teal

John Keith of Conway watches the sunrise and waits for teal during opening day on Sept. 11.
John Keith of Conway watches the sunrise and waits for teal during opening day on Sept. 11.

— Teal season in Arkansas coincides directly with the homestretch of both mosquito-slapping season and “look out, there’s a snake!” season. These factors, plus the addition of heat and humidity, mean relatively few of the state’s duck hunters participate in this early-season opportunity.

But teal season, which opened Sept. 11, can offer some good shooting if you find the “X.” If anything, the warm-up for real duck season is invaluable. There’s a good chance most hunters are a little rusty in their habits, so this early practice of getting up and getting gear can work out some kinks.

Take my opening morning, for example.

Prior to the opening date, I had scouted a few areas around central Arkansas. The spot I found with teal in Faulkner County was one I rarely frequented because it usually had more sky busters than ducks. However, I felt secure that most hunters would wait until November to dust off their sniper shotguns.

I had invited my good buddy to accompany me. I’ll call him Ernest. (Just like every pair of good hunting buddies, nicknames are common in my circle of friends. The more redneck or degrading the better. I’m LeeRoy.)

Ernest is an avid outdoorsman and all-around good guy. I knew he’d be willing to go, and he was.

I explained to him that we were a short boat ride away from smackin’ some teal. He agreed to bring his boat and join me. We planned to meet at my house at 5:15 a.m. sharp.

I am a firm believer in the mindset of “If you’re early, you’re on time. If you’re on time, you’re late. If you’re late, you’re left.”

I am one of the most easygoing guys you will ever meet, but there is ONE thing that starts making me feel anxious and grouchy — being late to hunt.

At 5:20, I was standing outside waiting to go, already feeling the anxiety settling in my stomach. A phone call revealed that Ernest was at Walmart getting his license.

“Ain’t exactly a lot of Walmart folks working right now, LeeRoy,” he said.

“Well, I’d reckon not, Ernest.”

At 5:35, I was almost to the point of hallucinations and convulsions from 7 1/2 months of duck withdrawal. Ernest pulled up. We hooked the boat to my truck and headed out.

“Whew. OK. We won’t have as much setup time, but we’ll be all right,” I thought.

About a mile outside of Mayflower coming from Conway, Ernest remembered something.

“Uhh, hey LeeRoy? I forgot to put the trolling motor in the boat,” Ernest said.

Deep breath.

“Oh, OK, man. Well, you got paddles, right? It’s really not very far,” I replied.

“Well … I left those in my truck, too,” he admitted.

Had it been the opening day of real duck season, I probably would have started crying right there in front of Ernest and Garth Brooks. But because I knew mallards weren’t an option, I held my composure.

We made it to the boat launch and simply walked along the shoreline to a spot directly opposite and across the water from where I had wanted us to set up. Because we walked in instead of trolling or paddling, however, we made it just on time.

I threw out two dozen brand-new decoys that I had rigged a couple of weeks prior. They looked pretty.

“Man, look at those bad boys move on the water,” I said.

About 20 minutes went by, during which we watched duck after duck fly directly across from us to where I had wanted to set up that day. I noticed that my decoys were indeed moving well. A little too well.

Apparently there was a drop-off from the shore we were standing on, and the 5-foot line on the decoys wasn’t reaching the bottom. I watched as about six of my farthest decoys started floating out toward the middle of the lake. That started the discussion of me swimming after them.

“So, looks like I’m gonna be swimmin’ after those decoys, huh?” I asked.

Kshhh. Kshhh, ksh. Ernest was busy putting on more bug spray.

“Hmm? Yeah,” he replied. Kssshh.

After some discussion about whether snakes bite under water, we decided to find fallen tree branches and push-pole out to the wayward decoys.

We launched the boat and set out at a blistering .05 mph. The only thing that could have made us look more redneck than paddling a jon boat with 8-foot-long tree branches was if we were in a homemade pirogue and had fewer teeth. I believe more “dadgummits” and “good Lord have mercies” were muttered than even mosquitoes killed that day. We did retrieve the decoys and chalked up the day as a scouting trip, just as is every day when nothing is bagged.

The next day, I went to the same hunting location with my buddy Gomer, aka Cody Smith. Ernest couldn’t make it that day, but he let us borrow his trolling motor to put on a canoe I acquired. Gomer and I zipped over to the “X.” God’s painted sunrise made the day worth being out there before a duck even was seen. It looked like a lot of the teal had moved out overnight, but we managed to bag a few. Having a group of teal buzz the decoys for the first time in almost eight months was exhilarating, and worth every obstacle I had to overcome to get there.

I can only hope that when real duck season rolls around Saturday, Nov. 20, I remember to bring some paddles.

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