Last season, the question "Why do I hunt?" hit me like a ton of bricks. I have been blessed with many "once in a lifetime" opportunities to hunt with some of the best in the business at some of the most sought after hunting land for waterfowl and this year, I realized that successful hunts don’t fuel my passion for waterfowl pursuit. I can remember growing up and my dad and I would load up in our Tacoma with our hunting dog and head to the local wildlife management area. The dog was more of a hope and a dream rather than seasoned retriever. All three of us enjoyed being together more than the riches of the harvest. During those years, in Oklahoma, most folks claimed success with two or three mallards and a few divers. An average hunt was killing one or two ducks. But to me, my dad was the original commander of waterfowl and I was watching greatness each time we would get that lucky nine o’clock bird looking for rest. No scouting, poor calling, old decoys, the dog was for looks and yet, I was ready to give it another go every weekend.
It was mid to late January when we had, what would be, our last good push of birds on the eastern half of Oklahoma. We had a feed of 500 big honkers which got our blood pumping fort he upcoming hunt. Sadly, we don’t get the huge lesser feeds on our side of the state but seeing groups of four and five huge honkers with landing gear down and screaming to a halt right in front of your face seems like a good trade off to me. Anyhow, we had a good scout, good weather, wind should be right, and put them to bed. The next day, after all the decoys were out and the bets were placed... they skirted us and landed safely in the next field over. Because this field was still a portion of what we had permission to hunt, the following weekend we circled back to give those same geese another go. As the morning sun peaked through the clouds and the dew began to melt, the infamous honks and hollers lit up the sky and those geese landed in the exact spot we hunted the last week, leaving us to watch the show from a field away... yet again. After a few more days of hopscotch, I learned an important lesson... the desire, the drive to pursue waterfowl, comes from the process and not from the product.
It is the story, the planning, the companionship, the failed attempts, the couch dog turned retriever champion, the father son memories, the friendships, the family, the poor calling, the old decoys, the wrong set ups, the bad hides, the boat rides, the long walks, it’s the process that keeps us coming back for more.
We never killed those geese. Never even got a shot. But that is the feed from last season that has me cleaning my gun and getting my decoys organized for this year. Why do you keep coming back?
