OUTDOORS COLUMN: A waterfowler’s preseason training guide

As duck season approaches this year it is impossible not to harken back to the last one.

It was the same old story. Waterfowl season was just about to end and things, to say the least, weren’t going well. The constitutionality of Murphy’s Law was holding up in court time and again. As in seasons past, you gnashed your teeth and berated yourself for not being better prepared.

Why, oh, why, you asked, did you once again ignore the importance of a preseason tune-up? For the umpteenth time you vowed never to let it happen again.

Wait a minute. Stop right there. Stop punishing yourself and listen up. You’re one of the lucky ones. It’s the people who waste good time getting ready for duck season who should be ashamed, not you. Let’s take a quick look at the futility of off-season readiness and think about how pointless it really is.

Scenario: It’s a beautiful morning, the birds are out in droves, and you are missing easy shots with uncanny regularity. There are two common reactions to this situation. One, you curse vociferously and bend your shotgun’s barrel around the nearest tree. Two, you sit and cry like a wronged three-year-old and wish you had put in some preseason hours at the local skeet range.

Now, ask yourself, are those who sharpened their skills on clay targets doing any better? I doubt it. Go out and shoot skeet until you’re smoking straight 25s from every station. Then go hunting and observe just how few ducks fly at the same speed and trajectory as a clay bird. Result: You’re still missing easy shots and have wasted valuable time you could have spent in the local bar thinking up believable lies and excuses.

Scenario: On opening day, you pole out to place your decoy spread with 15 minutes to spare before legal shooting hours begin. Reaching into the bag, you pull out the first of your magnum mallard blocks and 35 more follow as one, their lines and anchors hopelessly tangled in knots that would drive an entire troop of Eagle Scouts insane. Your decoy spread has become a decoy “lump,” all because you didn’t devote some preseason time to straightening out and organizing your equipment.

Big deal. Don’t panic. Just remember you can’t miss if you don’t attract any birds in the first place and, hence, will save yourself some of the mental anguish we have already discussed. Also, when the inevitable gale-force wind comes up, it will be much easier to chase down three-dozen decoys linked together in an inseparable mass.

Scenario: Let’s say you have just made one of your all-too-rare good shots. Your prize now floats belly-up in chest-high, 40-degree water about 35 yards from your blind.

“Back!” you command the large black dog sitting at heel beside you.

“You gotta be outta your freakin’ mind!” says the look in his eyes. Like you, he has spent all summer and most of the fall lying around getting fat and lazy.

The chattering of your teeth causes the next four flocks to flare out of range while you desperately try to stave off hypothermia with a pocket-size hand warmer and a book of matches. Pooch has watched your pitiful retrieve and subsequent shivering with disdain and a decided look of boredom.

As the numbness begins to subside, a lone mallard dips in close and you snap off another lucky shot. Amazingly, this time the Lab decides to go after him. You watch with relief and pride as your dog fetches the downed drake and then climbs atop a beaver lodge and proceeds to eat the duck, feet, feathers, and all.

Look on the bright side. You have provided your fellow hunters with some welcome comic relief and have one less bird to pluck when you get home.

These are but a few reasons for avoiding excessive preparedness. I maintain, as I always have, laziness and neglect are not necessarily bad things. If you’re still not convinced, just remember how it was in grade school. No one except the biggest nerd in class always did his homework.

Questions? Comments? E-mail Bob Kornegay at cletuswindstream.net