For waterfowlers, what happens after the hunt is as much a part of the experience as time in the blind. Tales from the day’s hunt sprinkled with fond memories of past seasons have been entertaining and uniting hunters for generations. These elaborate descriptions along with the knowing smiles and bursts of laughter are just never quite as good at the office or in the den at home.
The big question for hunt groups is do you tell the stories leaning on the tailgate of your truck in the hotel parking lot, over a full breakfast at the waffle house after the hunt, or around the fire pit at the farmhouse. The tales must be told. Some guys prefer cable television, wireless Internet, and clean sheets at the local hotel while others like to rough it at the camp. “Roughing it” is relative as many camp houses bare the tell-tale sign of the television satellite, and with smart phones, wireless Internet is pretty much everywhere.
Each hunting group has its own unique story – Where they came from? How long they have been together? What unites them? And always there is an alpha male. Certainly like-minded hunters, with similar values, make a good fit. Also, it’s wise to surround yourself with people who are better than you are. Learn from superior calling, knowledgeable decoy placement, and disciplined shooting. Gather up family and trusted friends and head for duck camp (via Holiday Inn Express or Delta farmhouse).
Camp time is a huge tradition. It is the perfect place for a buddy fix and the ideal family affair with children learning the traditions and values of waterfowling. The Internet is great, trade shows are fun, but the best forum for discovering new gear is at duck camp. Your buddy is showing off his latest Drake gear with the newest pattern while your brother-in-law is bragging about the life-like decoys that he discovered, and before you know it, the afternoon becomes a road trip to Mack’s Prairie Wings or Smith and Company Outfitters. And no, it’s not shopping!
As darkness closes around the camp and content feeding calls drift from the gray-white fog engulfing the low-lying wetland, wood is stacked in the fire pit. Hunters drift in and settle down filled with camp house duck gumbo or catfish from the local fish house. Talk turns to the numbers in Missouri – the jumping off point for waterfowl taking the flyway South – mixed with complaining about the Yankees feeding and holding the ducks and the latest weather forecasts. The lucky hunter passes his newly taken band around and describes the perfect shot he took this morning to claim it.
As the cold, humid Delta air is pushed back by the red and yellow flames of the campfire, the tales are spun. Finally as talk tapers off and night sounds take over, you remember the firelight highlighting the sparkles in your teenager’s eyes as you realize that, here at duck camp, you are still his hero. Bugs pop as they fly too close to the fire, raccoons and possums rustle in the bushes and the subtle scratching of weeds blowing in the winter wind fill the air. Yes, it is the experience and not the kill that draws us back.