Ducks, dogs and driving rain

As I write this story, I’m sitting in the warm Queensland winter sun (25C). This is a far cry from the weather in Victoria when I was hunting ducks during the last weekend of the season.

As a mate and I turned up at the property gates, the temperature gauge in the car read 10C. The sky was overcast, and the chilly conditions didn’t factor on any wind chill as there was a strong south-westerly blowing. Good thing we were duck hunting, as it was perfect weather for ducks.

Gus grabbed his dog Stella from the back of the HiLux, who is almost two years old but without a lot of duck hunting experience.

We grabbed our shotguns, jackets and steel shot ammo then headed toward the first dam. I was using a loaned Beretta 686 shotgun. It didn’t quite fit me, but I was keen and would make it work. It was the first time in a number of years I had been down hunting ducks.

Although ducks are unable to smell like deer, we worked the wind to our advantage. This was because ducks like to take flight into the wind when danger approaches. Using the best cover we had in an open field, we started making our way towards the dam.

We closed the distance to within 20m. Stella was on a long lead as she had not been to this property before, and Gus still needs to control her every so often when she becomes overly enthusiastic.

Peering over the bank, all hell broke out as ducks erupted from the water and the far bank only 25m away. We ended up getting four ducks between us from this spot, with Stella doing a commendable retrieving job.

The maximum daily bag limit per licensed hunter was four birds, with bans on certain species like the blue-winged shoveler and hardhead throughout the 2023 limited season. I say limited because the number of days and number of birds was controversial, especially compared to past campaigns.

The rain then started coming down in windy sheets. We put the ducks on the side of the track for later and decided to head towards the cover of the trees along the river, which was 500m away.

We covered the ground quickly and just before we crossed through a fence, Gus spotted a fox moving out of the danger zone. Luckily for the fox, the grass was so long and the wind blowing so hard, that Gus froze for a second too long.

Once we were within the shelter of the trees and down near the creek line, the wind and rain subsided.

We decided we would head into the wind (and rain) following the creek line back towards the HiLux and a series of dams. There was even one giant dam that looked to be a couple of acres in size.

Heading upstream, Stella was behaving with only the odd kangaroo and wallaby attracting her attention. It was strange, as no ducks were to be found within the creek. We walked over 2km with just swamphens and blackbirds showing themselves along the way.

At the last minute just before we crossed the fence to head towards the giant dam, Stella suddenly went on point towards the waterline. A fox broke and Gus shot it in some willows as it tried to swim across the creek. Good deed done for the day.

The rain had eased but was still just enough to make it miserable. We made a quick game plan and split into two directions. Gus went with Stella to the far end of the dam, while I circled round to the opposite side. The idea was for me to push all the birds over Gus’ head, to help finish the bag limit off.

However, the best laid plans can go wrong. The dam was full of black ducks and chestnut teal. We only needed four more ducks to complete our double bag limit. But upon raising my head above the dam wall, all the birds were straight onto me. Of course, they took off in between Gus and me.

Gus fired at a couple of birds that were closer to him but missed. At the sound of those shots, a mob of about 30 black ducks suddenly appeared from one of the smaller dams. It was on!

The black ducks were coming in high and low at various random angles. I’d never seen a flock so big, except for opening morning on Reedy Lake.

From his position, Gus ultimately dropped two birds, with Stella retrieving at his command. A couple of pairs of birds flew high over me, wanting to pitch in but did not totally commit to the big dam.

Gus kept using his duck caller, which I could hear clearly, despite being about 200m away from him. It seemed to keep some ducks interested (or confused), even though we must have looked like ominous dark blobs on opposite sides of the dam bank.

As a pair dropped down like fighter jets, I could hear the wind whistling through their wings. At the sight of this, I swung through the lower bird. My first shot was definitely behind the bird, due to its speed, so I swung through even harder and fired the second shot.

At the sound of the shot, the black duck folded and hit the bank next to me with a thud. After all this action, I could see another bird on the water which looked a little lost.

I urged Gus to walk over the bank while I pretended to pick up the dead bird. I was about 35m from the other duck and as soon as I turned towards the water, it lifted off and I swung onto it, folding it at the sound of the shot.

No sooner had I turned back around to grab that first black duck up than a hawk swooped down and took off with it. I thought: ‘Oh well, he’s probably hungrier than us.’

Although we only went out together for one hunt, it was a memorable one.