The 2 Week Tease

That could be the title of a trashy grocery store novel but that’s not what this is about. You see here in the southern part of New Jersey where I’ve been living and hunting for the past 4 years we have this two week early season that gets you so excited and then disappointed. Like many waterfowlers I spend most of my year yearning for “The Season”. Not bow season which is typically the first fresh venison of the year, or fishing season which here in the Mid-Atlantic there is typically always something to chase, I’m talking about duck season! The one with bright orange footed Mallards or the beautiful black ducks that winter in these parts. I’m talking about goose season where weary Canadian geese fall out of the sky to grab a meal in a fresh cut field. I’m talking waterfowl season! Here in the southern part of NJ we have an early resident goose season in September which gets me a little excited. You get to pull the trigger a few times and knock the rust off. Except this September, I opened my gun bag and looked at my mighty Stoeger quickly realizing I didn’t clean it before I put it away for the summer, (and the last place I hunted with it was salt water.) That little resident season is fun to knock off the rust before the early duck season. After that little taste of waterfowl hunting I scoured the ponds, streams, and flooded timber endlessly leading up to the first split of duck season. I put who knows how many miles on my truck with my daughter asleep in her car seat looking everywhere for ducks. I knocked on doors and asked landowners permission to hunt, I even returned home with an arm load of mums I bought at a farm stand because that’s how I initiated conversation with the farmer before I asked him if I could hunt his field. I went all out this preseason. Low and behold, not more than a handful of miles from my house I stumbled on a hidden gem. “How could I have overlooked this spot?” I asked myself as I pulled in to the little parking area. After taking in the beauty of the area I remembered thinking that just because it held water doesn’t mean it will hold waterfowl. It was a nice little spot which I couldn't stop thinking about. A few mornings later I found myself out and about early in search of a cup of coffee. I snuck in to that little pot hole, shut my truck off, cracked the windows and watched. Within a few minutes I knew I was on to something. I went back again a few days later to make sure I wasn't crazy. It was the real deal, Wood Ducks, Mallards, Canadian Geese, and Green-Winged Teal were flying around everywhere. I snapped pictures, took video, dropped a waypoint and enlightened my closest duck hunting buddies. “Any other vehicles parked in there?” "Did you check for tire tracks?” "Did you see any spent shells from years prior when you were walking around?" they asked. I told them I’d been checking on this place for several days straight multiple times a day and I hadn’t run into another human being. It didn’t take them long to agree to hunt this little gem on opening day with me. So out we went, opening day with high hopes. The gang all met at my house and we made the dark slow drive to the little slice of heaven I’d stumbled upon. As we drove past all the houses and turned onto the dirt road the anticipation filled the air. The boys were excited. Down the muddy dirt road we went winding this way and that, up the hill, down the hill and approached the final corner. “Boys, here we go!” I yelled and there it was, a parking lot full of trucks. The expletives that came out of my mouth were two fold. One, I was miffed that other people were hunting this little gem I’d discovered on Public Land (like I had a right to be upset) and two and probably the worst part of it all, I would have to listen to the bone heads in the truck give me grief. I immediately got the riot act from my hunting companions but that slowly tapered away as we got dressed, finished our coffee, and stood around looking at the satellite map on where we planned to hunt. We didn’t end up in the spot I had initially planned but we had a good little spot. We saw birds all morning and we snagged a few but it wasn’t the epic opening day I had imagined. We made it into that hole a few times during those two weeks but never came out with a fist full of ducks. So now here I am, waiting for duck season to open up again. It’s been a horrible few weeks of anticipation but now we are less than a week away from the coastal zone opening which is where we do our best work. Countless weeks on the DU migration app watching reports has led me to believe that we should have a decent opener. So the two week early season and the two weeks waiting for the next split to open have had me rather anxious. I’ve spent my time in the shop making duck calls and filling orders, working with the dog to keep his skills honed, and cruising social media anxiously anticipating opening day once again. Furthermore, I continued to set up at local festivals selling No Quarter Waterfowl items and talk "Ducks" with fellow waterfowl hunters while my wife looked at me like I had two heads while we duck hunters used "weird terms" to communicate. I was beginning to question the need for a trip to the doctor regarding my duck season anxiety until I ran into two old timers at the hardware store talking about the very same thing, that little tease you get and then you have to wait. Driving home after eavesdropping on their conversation while looking at assorted nuts and bolts that I didn't really need I realized that I should probably change my perspective on those “two weeks”. Those two seasoned fellas had been dealing with it for what seemed like forever and I still had a long way to go in my waterfowl hunting career. So from now on, I'm going to take that time to prep my gear, streamline my set up process, work on my calling, and continue to tune up the dog. Most importantly, I'm going to continue to live, breath, and talk about duck hunting with whoever will listen.