Southern Fowl Mouth

On a trip that involved old friends, new friends, beautiful scenery, and a bounty of fowl, I rediscovered an old flame that has had a special place in my heart for as long as I can remember: hunting. Many of us have taken to the outdoors for a place to clear our cluttered minds as well as just have some good ole fun. On this particular trip, I reunited with my best friend and college roommate from Auburn University where we spent some fine years together. While I was just shuffling my feet trying to figure out what to do with my life, he was serving as the assistant manager and a federal game warden for Chase Lake National Wildlife Refuge in Woodworth, North Dakota. Prime duck country.

Noodle, as we all call him (because he is tall and lanky like a spaghetti, and that is all that I know of his anatomy), got into the wildlife business for one reason: ducks. We met at Perkins Family Restaurant in the town of Aberdeen, South Dakota, where he had been on other business the night before. After joyous hugs, handshakes, and a quick breakfast, we proceeded north across the state line into North Dakota.

That evening we did not waste much time around the house before we were on the move scouting for ducks. We were expecting two more friends from the Heart of Dixie that night and wanted to have our spot for the next morning dialed in. It did not take long! We found the ducks and geese feeding in the first wheat stubble field where Noodle assumed they would be. For two boys from the South, it was uncustomary to be able to “scout” for ducks and hunt them where you find them. We were locked down to one or two ponds, creeks, or rivers; ducks or no ducks. In North Dakota a waterfowl hunter is allowed to hunt any property that is not posted otherwise. Though I have hunted ducks on most terrain, I was least experienced in dry field hunting. We returned home for the evening to welcome our newly arrived friends followed by dinner, Tennessee whiskey, and a plethora of hunting stories, new and old.

After a restless night’s sleep, we were up and ready to go around 4:30 a.m. Even though we had our field picked out, there was no guarantee that we were the only ones looking to hunt it, making it impossible to sleep another wink. By 6:00 a.m., the decoys were set, blinds touched up, and the coffee was poured. It was time to wait. Countless corny jokes later, shooting time reluctantly etched its way down to minutes, and little did we know we were in for the hunt of a lifetime.

The first flight of mallards came in shortly after legal light, decoyed perfectly, and then proceeded on down the line, untouched after a volley of shots went awry. We all laughed at ourselves, knowing it was only the first chance of the morning. There would surely be more to follow…and there were. The second group of ducks that gave us an opportunity did not fare as well as the first. With two shots we downed two drake mallards. Once again, they choreographed their moves as they came into the decoys with landing gear down and the brakes on.

With only two ducks in the bag, the day was already bliss. Through a light snow I witnessed my first ever “sun dog” around the big ball of fire warming our necks. The ground sparkled from the snow as the geese honked from a foggy pond nearby. Whether we had killed another duck or not wouldn’t have mattered at that point, the morning was truly magical.

As luck would have it, a flock of twenty or more Canada geese started heading our way. We all hunkered back down in our individual skid blinds to wait on the impending action. The geese suddenly flared a bit 100 yards out, but did not retreat completely. Instead, they started to circle our set up as Noodle called to them. And then, as if there was not enough adrenaline between the four of us, a huge group of mallards joined in with the geese and their tornado-like spiral. Noodle had quit calling, as he decided to become another spectator in this spectacular moment. After a few passes, both the ducks and geese headed for safer ground, leaving us with memories of honks and quacks in the eye of a feathery twister. If anyone was disappointed by not shooting, it was well hidden. None of us have, or may ever again, witness such as amazing extravaganza between man, bird, and Mother Nature’s dazzling canvas. We finished the morning off with several more mallards and a few additional Canada geese.

That afternoon, we found a prairie-pot-hole littered with various species of ducks. We flushed nearly all of them as we set up, but they quickly returned as things quieted down. That evening we were accompanied by Noodle’s friend, John, who had lived in that region for some time with his wife, both avid hunters. Our setup was on a small peninsula near one of two open holes on the frozen pond. It did not take long to add to our day’s bag. We shot our limit of ducks, ranging from Gadwalls (the Alabama mallard) to a pair of Canvas Backs in just an hour.

After rounding up the ducks and gear, it was time to head back to Noodle’s to fire up the grill. Being from the South, having a grill is almost as necessary as having a refrigerator. As a matter of fact, the two practically go hand-in-hand because you can’t operate a grill without a cold beer!

Reflection and eating were the night’s events. From the morning magic to the content feeling we had in our bellies, it couldn’t have been better for four old friends and a new one, talking of past hunts, guns, dogs, and such. Standing there watching the sunset over the Dakota prairie as fowl mouths sang to our ringing ears, I knew that moment would not last much longer, but in our hearts, the day would go on forever.

Josh Wolfe

It didn’t take long for me, following in my father’s footsteps (literally), to develop a deep appreciation for the outdoors. Because it’s there in the wind, in the rain and a cool summer sunrise where I’ve learned more than in all the classrooms combined. My journalistic work is the sum of all I’ve taken from the outdoors and all I want to give back.

It was during a long, grueling two-year stint working as a banker in Huntsville, Alabama, I finally realized I needed to follow my dreams. After sojourning several places across the country, I now call Asheville, North Carolina, home, where I am the co-founder, publisher and editor of The Golf Sport (www.golfsportmag.com) magazine and editor of Sporting Classics Daily (www.sportingclassicsdaily.com). I am also a contributor to OutdoorHub and Global Outfitters, and hope to really inflate that balloon over the next couple years.

For me, it’s the power of the pen that makes the outdoor adventure live forever – as it is resurrected on the page in front of me. I am so fortunate to be a part of the outdoor community and make my passion a career.