My Brother's First Bird.

Wildlife leaves an indelible mark upon you. I have vivid recollections of many first encounters. I candidly recall the first deer I ever saw. My grandfather pulled up our driveway one cold, snowy, November evening with a large doe strapped to his old Chevy Citation. My imagination went wild trying to picture how he got her. This was a wild creature! It seemed enormous to my eight-year-old eyes. The size of the Chevy compact may have helped a touch too.

I remember my first-time small game hunting. I had persuaded my friend Wayde to convince his father, Roger to go after pheasants near their home in the country. I'd never seen a live pheasant before, but Wayde made mention of them being near his place. The three of us walked field edges and small chunks of woods with his cocker spaniel. I don't think that dog had ever hunted before, but to me, it was like living a raccoon hunt off the pages of Wilson Rawls, "Where the Red Fern Grows." We never saw a bird, but somehow Roger spotted a rabbit in the woods. The dog was running through the field, nowhere near the action, enjoying outside freedom. The report of the shotgun blast resounded, and silence ensued. We located the rabbit, and I quickly learned you best hold them by the rear legs versus the ears. The laughter of Roger and Wayde as the spent rabbit relieved itself on my legs is something I'll always remember. My mother probably remembers as well, as she had laundry that night, and found a rabbit foot jammed into the pocket of some stinky jeans.

I've read there's a learning curve to hunting... perhaps they're better phrased as stages. Initially, there's the thrill of seeing wildlife. Next, it's about harvesting game. Then it's all about limiting out. Finally, we come to an appreciation of the outing itself. I'm reminded of Gordon MacQuarrie's words, "In hunting, the means always outway the end." I'd like to believe I've reached that level of maturity, but I'll be darned if I wouldn't like a limit of mallards!

I digress. My brother has dipped his toe in hunting over the years, but never really wet his feet. He has yet to harvest his first deer, although has gone on many outings. This year, he asked me to include him on some duck hunts. The mission was set, and I was all-in.

To many waterfowlers, this challenge is taken to heart. Those of us in the game know of a place... not necessarily our best spot or spots, but a place to introduce the newcomer. They will go through the checklist of necessities and include the newbie in many of the chores. Many of the more mundane may be "passed" along. All in the name of "learning." I'm reminded of raking and cutting limbs, leaves, and corn stalks to make a blind. I also remember the chapped hands after reeling in icy decoy lines! Finally, the table is set, the opening hour has come, and the early flight is on! After the veteran has dropped a couple birds, the newbie might start to make out the forms of ducks and try a shot too. Hopefully, before the day is out, our newcomer has connected with a bird or two to bring home and admire.

This was not the case with my brother. There are a number of factors that contributed, making this almost a Holy Grail quest. My brother is a fireman, and medivac for the Air Force. He works odd hours. Those perfect mornings and late evening times we waterfowlers cherish were hard to come by. Add the fact of a newborn on my side, and the calendar became even more challenging. We resigned to the fact that we would be hunting in less than ideal times and for short durations. Even so, we had great times chasing that first elusive bird.

For his first outing, I elected to bring him along a circuit of spots to jump shoot. Each locale was within relative walking distance of a vehicle. If we pushed a large number of birds, perhaps we'd set up decoys and do things properly. He had his license, federal stamp, signed, and a pair of Herter's basic waders. I lent him a shotgun, shells, and camo.

We arrived at our first place, which also offered the most walking. I'd had success there a week earlier. There was also an untouched spot, further back, I'd scouted in late August we might try. I'd gotten to within feet of a wood duck family. I figured we'd at least see birds. Nearly two miles of walking and stalking later, we did see mallards... ducks that busted out several hundred yards away giving us not a glance.

The next spot was far quicker to reach. We crept between a farmer's homestead fence and a public field leading to a slew. I placed my brother at the corner after sneaking a peek. Nothing was floating at the far side. I took the dog, and circled away and out, figuring I'd work back to him. I'd taken two wood ducks earlier in the season, and missed on others. As the slew turned, I slowly worked my way to a spot where I could see up and down. Before getting to the opening, the dog plowed into the water, and I heard the unmistakable alarm quacks of a lone mallard. "Captain Buster strikes again!" I thought. Foolishly, I hadn't kept Calvin close. My bad! Sorry, brother.

We put a good stalk and got shooting at the next place, but the birds were just out of range. My brother was getting excited about this jump shooting, as at least we played that one out proper. We were seeing birds! We went to a number of other places but finally struck payday just before having to call it a day.

We pulled into a place which contained a number of small ponds, within close distance of each other. My brother learned quickly how to work in tandem to jump a pond. I took the wilder paths with dog, while he positioned himself parallel, and at a position of advantage with the wind. I wanted him to get that shot!

Several ponds had come up empty, and we were about to hit the big water. My earlier scouting had jumped birds here three different times. With the wind blowing as it was, I figured this would be the opportune time. The big water spread out east and west, with a point jutting south. I positioned my brother near the point, figuring birds would take off and veer towards him. I circled hoping to jump the birds his way. All for naught. The water was placid and empty.

Brother and I reunited. We began walking when I noticed another small pocket of water just to our left. We split up perhaps fifty yards. The land splayed down to the water's edge. My brother went a touch quicker, and to our surprise, about fifteen to twenty mallards got up. Brother shot once or twice. I shot, missing the first, but connecting on the second. I took a plump Suzie. Those birds flushed at twenty-five yards and were right in his face! Calvin made a tricky retrieve through the rushes and brought it to hand. I have to confess, it was a great feeling to pass that duck to him. He'd never held a duck before, and even though it wasn't his bird, Brother was getting hooked!

Later in the season, we made our way to another area of the state. This time we'd hunt a back bay off big water. We each carried decoys and began a solid hike in. A good wind was blowing from the northwest, which worked well for our plans. Today we'd put out decoys and try a traditional duck hunt. We only had a couple of hours and were getting out near 10:00. I set my brother up along a line of brush, along a beach, and instructed him to fix-up a blind previously constructed. I worked at setting the spread but instructed him to be ready.

Sure enough, as I was putting decoys out, we had ducks buzz over. "Here they come!" was my call, and brother did get shooting at one flock. A tough overhead shot. The fact we had birds moving at this time of day had me in good spirits. I gave brother and dog the good blind. I did my best to fade into the leafless shrubs.

We had birds moving, but not committing. I shut off the spinning wing decoy after a flock landed back into a flooded pocket beyond us. One flock of geese came in just out of range. All in all, it was a pleasant ducking day. The conversation was enjoyable, and as things tend to happen in waterfowling, the ducks appeared from nowhere. I managed to see a set coming ahead in front of my brother's blind. It was as if they were on a string.

"Right out front! Here they come," I whispered.

"Where?"

"Twelve O'clock, coming low. Right in front. Ready?"

"I see them!"

"Take em!"

Brother's barrel fired two shots. I waited, and attempted a third, as it passed. I missed too. Those birds were ours dead to rights. I was sure that would have been his first! Ah, but what can you do?

No other birds flew before we had to wrap up. Another hunt, another opportunity. Brothers 0, ducks... well ahead. At least on this occasion, my brother got to experience setting out blocks and putting together a blind. We called and had flocks to work. Arriving back at the truck, he was determined to take a bird. I for one was as determined to put him on them!

There were several other outings, but the score remained the same. We had reached that part of the season, where Mother Nature needed to push fresh birds our way. Things were winding down, and we weren't able to hunt together. Even so, we were determined to get that first bird.

The weather turned in a hurry. Snow and ice pounded western Wisconsin. Six inches of snow fell the first weekend of November and the temperature then dropped like a stone. The northern ponds and marshes froze over. In many regards, that made the hunting spots easy to choose. We needed to find open, running water.

My brother had learned enough in our first jump-shoots to work himself in range. He stopped by one evening, and I directed him to a spot that's been a proven producer. It also was a quick stalk, with plenty of cover. I should say, it's easy if you know the lay of the land. Brother had never been there and earned valuable experience that first time.

He made his way to the river, stood at the shore in the open, when a flock of mallards came pouring in. I'll just say, they became well educated after brother's misses. Three days later, he returned to the same place. I received the following text while at work:

"12:44 p.m. - Duck Down!"

My students were plenty surprised to hear my shout "YESSS!!!" and witness me jumping around my desk. I shared the pic that came next with them.

I know this is the first of hopefully many birds. Already plans are being made for next season. Maybe we'll even harvest a few ducks together! I'm happy to report a new hunting buddy, as all he wanted to talk about at Thanksgiving was getting out again.

Happy holidays to you all, and take someone new with you into the outdoors. It may take them awhile, but it's one of the most rewarding outdoor experiences I've had. Congrats Brother!