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Jim Darnell and Brandon Miller with ducks shot at the Grand Chenier. Photo submitted by Jim Darnell

Taking down ducks and viewing other birds at Grand Chenier

Outdoors
Monday, November 29, 2021

I recently enjoyed a blitz of varied duck hunts. I always watch for the unusual on any hunt.

The first hunt was in Gonzales County with my son, Tim, and his friend, Nathan. We didn’t see many ducks but conditions were perfect — strong north wind and overcast. While waiting and hoping for more ducks we suddenly saw a very large bird slowly flying toward our decoys. At first I thought it was a buzzard. Then perhaps a golden eagle. But it was a huge hawk. What species I don’t know — not a red tail, not a red shoulder, not a marsh hawk.

Suddenly, the hawk dove into our decoys, dropped his talons and tried to grab a teal decoy. A loud “click” resounded across the pond. We all watched in disbelief. When the hawk realized that he had been duped, he flew on and landed in a tree. On hundreds of hunts, I had never seen such an event. And probably never will again.

After the hunt, on Thursday afternoon, my wife Beth and I were on the way to Lafayette, La., for two days of more duck hunting. My host, Brandon Miller, had lined up a hunt on Grand Chenier near the Gulf of Mexico and adjoining the Rockefeller National Wildlife Refuge. Grand Chenier (French) means Big Ridge. Through the miles of marsh runs this ridge that is home to hundreds of live oaks.

Brandon picked me up at the motel at 3 a.m. Todd Menard and Blair also met us at the motel. That’s an ungodly hour but we had almost a two-hour drive to the boat launch. I grew up hunting the marsh around Port Arthur. As we sped down the narrow channels and across shallow lakes in the dark, it brought back memories of riding in airboats on Taylor’s Bayou and Big Hill Bayou near Port Arthur. The terrain looked just like the J.D. Murphee Wildlife Refuge where I often hunted.

Brandon, Blair and I hunted a blind that was set up perfect for a strong north wind. Todd and a friend named Glenn hunted a blind several hundred yards from us.

At first light, hundreds of ducks began to flock out of the Rockefeller Refuge, especially big groups of teal. They were flying fast and high and had no interest in our decoys. We shot only one teal. I began to think that the one bird might be the extent of our hunt.

But if we had not shot another duck, the beauty of the morning would have been worth the effort. As the sun began to rise in the east, a big orange moon loomed on the western horizon. Those are the intangibles that make hunting awesome to me.

Then as it got lighter, big ducks began to come our way. Three gadwalls dropped into our decoys with wings cupped. We all fired and all three birds fell. Things were looking better.

The action never became fast and furious but it was steady. Gadwalls, pintails and spoonbills began to decoy and die.

One pintail hen decoyed on Brandon’s end of the blind. The bird came right down on him with wings cupped and his landing gear down. But Brandon didn’t shoot. I hollered, “Shoot him, Brandon.” No shot. The bird flew off. Brandon had forgotten to load his shotgun. We really gave him a hard time.

Glenn called to see if we had our limit. He and Todd were not doing well and wanted to move into our blind.

“We have 14 birds — four more for our combined limits,” we said.

“Hurry up and shoot those four so we can take that blind,” Glenn said.

While we were still on the phone, a group of at least 12 spoonbills sailed right into the north wind and into our decoys.

“The blind is yours, Glenn. We’re going home,” Brandon joked.

The next morning dawned clear, cold and still. Not an ideal duck day. We were hunting with the owner of the Ford dealership in Lafayette in a rice field. The blind was an eight-man pit blind. It was invisible.

Early ducks came into the decoys and we shot several. Then it got slow. Finally, two ducks swept across the decoys and I saw red on their heads. Both birds dropped. Most of our Cajun hunters had never seen a redhead. The big drakes were beautiful.

Later a mature bald eagle flew right over the blind. His wingspan was huge and his white shaggy head was brilliant in the blue sky. He was our bonus of the day. You never know what you may see until you get outside in the great outdoors.

San Marcos Record

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P.O. Box 1109, San Marcos, TX 78666