BOB KORNEGAY: Sometimes, just watching is best

For duck hunters, it can be pretty darn tough visiting a National Wildlife Refuge during waterfowl season, particularly one established primarily as a haven for wintering waterfowl.

This is especially true if the area does not offer at least a few quota hunts each year. Some might even say there’s nothing worse than being in a place where one is up to his ears in ducks without an opportunity to take a shot at one or two. An unarmed in-season duck hunter surrounded by ducks is not as a rule a happy camper.

One particular waterfowler, however, begs to differ. There are a few worse scenarios than those involving ducks flying ridiculously close and thumbing their noses (beaks?). Here, for the curious and bored, they are.

Worse Scenario No. 1: Visiting a duck-friendly National Wildlife Refuge that DOES offer in-season quota shooting from time to time. For one of us, namely yours truly, it is far better to lament a total lack of shooting opportunity than to have an existing opportunity that will never be realized dangled tantalizingly and fruitlessly under his nose.

To wit, Kornegay luck dictates my chances of being drawn for a waterfowl quota hunt lie somewhere between the probability of my winning a nationwide Powerball lottery and being elected Pope. A glutton for punishment, I apply season after season with the same results, watching the mail and my inbox for the “Congratulations, you have been selected…” announcement that never comes. My only solace comes from moping around all season feeling sorry for myself. I do love a good self-pity party, particularly when Irish whiskey is generously dispensed. Irish whiskey, by the way, does not increase my odds for a papal candidacy, either.

Worse Scenario No. 2: Visiting a National Wildlife Refuge that offers not only several quota shoots per season, but a “convenient” first-come waiting list, as well. As in, “Didn’t get drawn? Well, heck, Bubba, there’s always a no-show or two. Just get there early and you’re certain to get a blind.”

Ah, those eternal optimists. They know not who they are advising and encouraging. I would actually find their misuse of the terms “always” and “certain” amusing were it not so hopelessly devastating. And, bless their naïve hearts, they are obviously completely unaware of Kornegay luck and the total unlikelihood of anything remotely fortuitous happening to me.

In my first-come, first served world, I “always” arise 45 minutes after the alarm goes off and I am “certain” to be late. I must say, however, they’re on the nose where no-shows are concerned. There are indeed blinds available. Two as a rule. Guess who is invariably third in line.

Yep. You’re catching on.

Worse Scenario No. 3: Visiting a ducky National Wildlife Refuge that offers a quota duck hunt for which I have actually been drawn. Wait, now. If you’re thinking that contradicts the lamentations of No. 1 and No. 2, allow me to explain that “drawn” is a bit of a stretch. Amend it to read, “My cousin, who worked for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, got tired of my whining and bellyaching and pulled a few strings.” Please don’t be resentful of the nepotism. It’s only happened once. Got poor Cuz fired, too, poor fella.

Besides, my blind designation wasn’t the plum assignment you might think. It seems low-totem-pole invitees normally wind up in refuge ponds full of coots and mergansers. I don’t shoot coots and mergansers. The former don’t offer much sport and the latter taste like sun-ripened carp. Add the wasps and snakes inhabiting those seldom-used blinds, and nepotism isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

So, all things considered, give me the no-hunt refuges, a spotting scope, and a good birding field guide. There’s no shame in being just a waterfowl watcher two or three days a season. It has its perks. It might even turn a guy into one of those stereotypical bird nerds we often read about.

Not a bad thing when you get right down to it. I can look really sexy in a pith helmet, cargo shorts, and knee socks.

Let’s see, now. Where’d I put my binoculars?

Contact outdoors columnist and writer Bob Kornegay at [email protected].