Another outdoor season has snuck up on us, or at least me. Did you know that it is duck hunting season? Given our unseasonably warm weather over the past couple of weeks it’s hard to imagine huge rafts of ducks barreling down river.

I hadn’t’ given the season much thought until last Saturday morning when I was visiting friends and family back in my stomping grounds in Vernon County. The swamp on the Minnesota side of the Mississippi River came to life at exactly 6:30 a.m. I knew that it was the official start of Wisconsin’s 103rd duck hunting season. It was a shotgun blast alarm clock that lasted until mid-morning.

Since 1922 Wisconsin has had a duck season that includes a set date and fixed bag limits. By comparison to today’s season, the modern version is shorter and the bag limits are reduced. It’s still a great tradition and if you’ve ever heard duck wing beats in the predawn darkness while waiting for the hunt to legally open, you know all about the thrill of expectations.

Being back home for the start of the season reminded me of a time and place long ago when I spent more time in a duck blind than I did a deer stand. I cut my duck hunting teeth as a youth along the banks of the Mississippi River during a time when ducks were plentiful. Back then, finding the money for another box of shells was more difficult than finding a limit of ducks. When the duck numbers started to tumble that’s when I started spending more time in the woods than in a duck boat.

It also reminded me of “The Point” that was nothing more than a jog in the shoreline that jutted out towards the center of the river. Access to The Point was through a huge culvert that went under State Highway 35. With the hope of avoiding detection, one could easily sneak up on unsuspecting mallards tucked into the shoreline by using that cobwebbed passage. But The Point wasn’t just a duck hunting spot, it was also a great spot to catch rock bass, an average spot to catch bluegills, and a poor spot to catch springtime bullheads. It was also a pretty good spot to “throw out line” for catfish. A “throw out line” was a skillset that every Beck boy knew and practiced. You didn’t need a car or a boat to set throw out lines, so we all did it. The only thing we did more on The Point was jump ducks.

As the morning wore on last Saturday, the shot gun reports became less and less frequent. It was a reminder that I needed to get out and bag a limit or two of ducks. I was a duck hunter long before I was a bow hunter.  Once you’re in that fraternity, you’re in it for life, plus I really like eating ducks.

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