MAINELY OUTDOORS
by Bill Graves
Regardless of where you live in Aroostook County, chances are pretty good there’s a small pond within five miles of your house. Some are surrounded by thick woods while others are among large tracts of potato and grain fields, and a surprising number are little more than shallow marsh created by a crew of industrious beavers. These small forest and farm land waterways all have one thing in common, each and every one provides rest and roost comfort for the local duck population.
Contributed photo
HIDING CANOE — Beaver Pierce of E Plantation Prepares to hide his canoe among the reeds and cattails after setting out duck decoys on a small, secluded farm pond.
While partridge hunters slowly cruise back roads at dusk and dawn eyeing ditches and banks for birds, waterfowlers keep their eyes to the skies. Since ducks wing away from roost waters at sunrise to feed in nearby grain fields and flock back home at sunset, scouting at these times will help hunters pinpoint ponds as waves of waterfowl come and go. I was actually searching for geese when a group of ducks funneling into the tree tops of a small wood lot peeked my interest.
Upon investigation it turned out a shallow two-acre reed-lined pond nestled within an old cedar swale and the ducks kept diving in as darkness fell. I made a quick phone call to the local farmer for permission to hunt, then called a couple of gunning buddies and by 3 p.m. the next afternoon out trio was unloading the canoe from the truck roof rack and packing it with decoys and gear. Since I’d been able to hear the ducks quacking and splashing while parked at the tree line along the field edge the night before, I knew the pond was just a short jaunt through the woods.
Full military assaults on fortified enemy beaches have taken place with less pain and fewer problems than our 200-yard trek; hereafter known as the Duck Pond Death March! Blowdowns, flooded beaver trails, knee deep mud and dead cedar trees laying every which way were just some of the obstacles our trio encountered. Just slogging through the quicksand like marsh would have been difficult enough, but we were dragging a loaded canoe and carrying guns, shells, blind bags and trying to stay upright and dry.
By the time we finally floated the canoe among the reeds at the ponds edge, each of us was a wash of sweat, covered in mud and so arm weary we could hardly load a shotgun, let along shoulder and shoot. After a breather we set out about 20 duck decoys, a couple of goose floaters and a Mojo spinning-wing duck to provide some attention getting motion for passing flocks. One of the boys paddled the canoe among cattails up the shoreline and hid in the shoreline foliage and vegetation.
Later we laughed because while waiting for ducks to arrive all of us were agonizing over the same thoughts; first, after all that work we better get some shooting, and second, we are going to have to haul everything back out of here, and in the dark no less! Off and on ducks winged over the pond, we called and coaxed with mixed results and in the end we bagged seven birds, a variety of mallards, blacks and ringnecks. Several bunches refused to come within range, others cooperated but shots were missed, and a few decoyed perfectly and became part of our bag limit and future tasty tablefare.
The most enjoyable, but somewhat frustrating part of the entire hunt began five minutes after we had unloaded our scatterguns. Legal shooting time past, we got ready to retrieve and bag up the decoys and had just launched the canoe when a sound like ripping paper filled the air above our heads and half a dozen big mallards arrived, wings cupped and splashed down among our fake floating flock. “Can you believe that,” I said out loud as we stood together by the canoe and watched them swim about, and at the sound of my voice the leaped skyward and winged off.
Before we could recover from the surprise and float the canoe, honking filled the twilight and a group of 30 or so Canada geese flapped into sight, banked, circled once and plopped down within 25 yards of us. No more had they settled in and two more small groups of ducks dive-bombed the decoys and dropped their landing gears.
Within five minutes a dozen more flocks of two to ten ducks blazed over the trees and reeds from every direction and plunked into the pond with a swish and a splash as each bird settled into the water.
We finally had to break the reverie or pick up the decoys by moonlight, and the pond’s surface exploded sending water and waterfowl skyward as the canoe floated into the open. As the guys pulled decoys into the boat ducks kept arriving, some landing within yards of the canoe, others gliding so low overhead a paddle could have swatted them from the sky. It was as if this tiny secluded spot of water was the only landing zone in Aroostook.
Grunting, groaning and gasping for breath our team groveled through the marsh on the way back to the truck, but it wasn’t as bad as expected thanks to the late arriving cavalcade of waterfowl. The shooting had been so-so, but the sight of the night flight returning to roost was worth all the effort. It’s a great year for ducks, every wet spot in The County harbors waterfowl this month so get out and about soon. Perhaps you’ll get to view some sunset flights that offer memories for a lifetime.
