Could it be for real?

Al Hansen

Well-known member
On Saturday morning early, after all was checked and ready to go, Preston made this statement. "Al, there is no way I could ever have a better day duck hunting than that first one of mine four days ago." I smiled when I thought about that knowing how quickly times can change when duck hunting. I opened my cell phone to check the time and announced that we had just 3 minutes to wait.

There is no doubt in my mind that this young man is a duck hunter. He is saavy in so many ways. I guess we sat there for a while when all of sudden we saw a small flock of mallards to the south of us that decided to head for the Rio Grande. I got on my call and persuaded them to come over for a look at our spread. As they made a circle to come in, I told Preston that I would wait for him to shoot first. When he did, we really woke the countryside up with a volley of 6 shots. With all that shooting I noticed that my hunting partner put down a duck. Habi was after it in a second.

I met her as she came back with it and all I could think was "OMG"! "Here you go, Preston," as I handed him the duck. "She sure seems to be another fine fat one for supper." I then watched him handle the duck like he always does. Very thoroughly, by the way.

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He kept on checking her over and then I got that look from him. "Is this possible? he asked. All I could do was smile.

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I asked him to take off his face mask so I could see that smile.

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"You know, Preston, I started hunting ducks in 1954 and my first banded duck came 48 years later in 2002! Yours came 4 days later on your second duck hunt. Do you realize how lucky you are?" I asked. He just smiled!

We waited for what seemed to be an hour or better when all of a sudden we had a group of 3 gadwalls come from behind us heading south. I gave them a couple of very soft lonesome hen calls and like a gigantic electric magnet had been turned on, they made a 180 and never hesitated. I told him that I would wait for him to shoot again. He picked out a nice drake and it folded instantly on his shot. I followed suit by pulling down the other drake. He missed his second shot and then had to contend with the sun. I pulled on her and we both watched this duck head for the ground on the other side of the blinding sun. That was cool.

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Preston looked up as I was taking this shot and said, "Hey, Al, this is another first! It is my very first gadwall."

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Another hour of time flew by as we talked and he inspected his very first gadwall. He was enthralled with its beauty. It was about then that a single gaddie drake flew right over the top of us, put his brakes on in mid-air and head straight for the spread. I watched Preston as he followed this guy and when he was about 4 feet off the water, he pulled the trigger. It was a perfect shot. Habi dashed out there to pick it up. When we got it back, my hunting partner then started to talk about getting some ducks mounted. This one was a good looker!

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We pulled up stakes and headed for Acosta's restaurant. What a fantastic morning. As I was enjoying a bite of breakfast burrito smothered in green chile I heard him say, "You know, Al, I'm thinking that I rushed into things when I said that no other hunt could compare with that first one." I had to agree with him.
Al
 
Al,

This story just keeps getting better. What a great example of sharing your passion
with someone who really is enjoying the moment. God Bless ya.

Tom
 
Wow! What a great story Al. I'm sure the joy of watching all this happen for Preston has been great for you. That is a stud gaddie for sure! Let us know when he gets the band info!
 
Al,
How does it feel to be Dr. Frankenstein? LOL. You certainly are creating a duck hunting monster! Those grins of his are electric,and no dang wonder. How great to see the luck come to a new guy who is wise enough to recognize and appreciate his good fortune--beginning with you as his waterfowl mentor!

Every time I see one of your posts up I approach with delight and anticipation--and every time this is more than justified.
The words, the scenes described, the photos to round it out...Gordon McQuarrie and Mel Ellis and Ted Trueblood and Robert Ruark combined have found a writer to join their august ranks. The photos are icing on the cake!

I am glad to read,by the way, that a hunter as dedicated as you went for such a long time without scoring a band. Based on all those photos of camouflaged ninjas sporting long necklaces of bands like some kind of jewelry, I had begun to wonder if all my years on the marshes were for naught. Now I feel better. I have one--count it, one--band for a half century of waterfowling. To give you some idea how long it was in coming, steel shot had already made its anemic advent, and I had switched to a BPS 10 to try to emulate my handloaded 12-gauge fives,having concluded Browning was never going to produce a ten-gauge A-5.

On Lake Terrell, near the Canadian border, with about ten minutes left to go until the end of that season and most of the decoys already in the boat, a small squadron of greater Canadas made a mistake, led by a huge old gander who should have known better. He was twenty maybe thirty yards up, wings set, when my son unloaded three charges of steel from his Sweet Sixteen. We could hear the pellets rattling off him as if he was armored. He was outraged and began to climb out--maybe forty yards when I put the BPS on his bill and put almost two ounces of steel twos up there. It was not unlike shooting down a Piper Cub. Waves washed into the blind from the impact of his fall. He immediately tried to dive and hang on--the water was three feet deep--and his rear was still exposed as my son closed on him in the duck boat and hauled him aboard.

And that was my only band in fifty years of hunting. Your "young" friend will probably remember every detail of that shot and that band, just as I do. The hunting gods obviously are smiling on your endeavors, and well they should.
Bill
 
The smile says it all.....

I personally think gadwalls are the most beautiful duck in North America.

All of my life I have never given it credence to how I got to my duck hunting spots, that was until I had heard all about Riley and Bud. Riley was my girlfriend's father who would literally carry Bud to their duck hunting blind. Bud took some shrapnel in WWII and lost the use of his legs. They did this every duck season until Bud couldn't carry him any more. Now we have these marvelous vehicles like 4-wheelers and or Mules.
The smile means everything, John.
Al
 
Al,

This story just keeps getting better. What a great example of sharing your passion
with someone who really is enjoying the moment. God Bless ya.

Tom

Thanks for what you had to say, Tom. That is what this life of ours is all about. I think most of us have already found out that you feel much better about giving than receiving. All I needed was to see that smile.
Al
 
Wow! What a great story Al. I'm sure the joy of watching all this happen for Preston has been great for you. That is a stud gaddie for sure! Let us know when he gets the band info!


I'm glad you liked the story,Cody. Things such as this are fun to write up. As for Preston's banded hen mallard she was a juvenile, was banded on September 16th of 2013 in Monte Vista, Colorado.
Al
 
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