Chasing a Limit
Life Lessons from the Water and the Field
The limit is not the most important thing when going out hunting and fishing. We dream of limits and chase them and make memories that are priceless in the process of chasing that first limit.
A limit of fish usually comes first in our pursuit of a limit and our reward is a fish fry for friends and family and the memories made in the field are told to those eating what nature has provided. Waterfowl hunters more than most are driven to get a limit, maybe it’s the fact the dream of a limit is interrupted by an alarm going off at 3am or earlier or the cold wind and water setting out decoys or maybe, most of all, it’s because the effort to get six ducks is just so great. Waterfowl becomes an obsession as soon as you begin to figure out the birds. It will cause you to sleep less, work more, and spend every extra dollar just find them and watch them work. I scout ducks and duck spots all year. I hunted waterfowl for 9 years before I was ever able to claim I shot a limit.
I am a self-taught hunter raised by a single mother, I never had anyone to mentor me in duck hunting. I had friends who deer hunted and I got to go to their ranches and shoot guns, shoot skeet and deer and dove hunt. I was always drawn to the dove hunting. The sitting under a big oak tree. Hiding in the shade from the September sun just suited me. I knew then I wanted to hunt ducks. My friends all ask why. “Ducks don’t taste any good,” they said. “Who wants to wake up at 3am to sit in the freezing water,” they’d poked fun at me. But I was not to be stopped. I had my APH (public land hunting permit) and I went down to the store picked up a dozen mallard decoys and convinced my 13 year old cousin it would be fun to go hunt ducks. I told him it would be like hunting doves over the water but I had no idea what it would actually be like.
That first morning we walked the mile or so down to the edge of the water threw out our decoys and waited for first light and the 1000’s of ducks to pile in right on top of the decoys. After all, that’s how it worked on TV. Well first light came and the ducks did. Now we saw some ducks off in the distance and after a while we decided we had been bested and returned home cold, wet, hungry, with zero ducks and not having to fired a shot. The following weekend I convinced my cousin and his dad that it would be a good idea to try our hand at duck hunting again. It looked easy on TV and we saw where the ducks were landing. Wake up at 3am, drive to the spot, put out decoys and get picked out by almost every bird that tries to land in that slough. However, one lone mallard drake flies directly over our heads. We all miss of course, but I was now truly bitten by the bug after hearing the whistle of his wings threw that cold damp December air. A few more years go by and I began to figure it out and harvest a few birds, usually still dragging my cousin along who now has the waterfowl sickness as I do. We develop a tradition that was started that first duck hunting trip without even knowing it that Thanksgiving and Christmas are not just for family but for family hunting trips. While most go to bed early on Thanksgiving night for Black Friday sales the next morning, we go to bed early to chase ducks. It was several years after that first hunt after Christmas where we went and watched birds work that we finally “figured it out.” We decoyed birds, we called birds, and we harvested birds. Not that elusive limit but a one-man limit between the two of us. This lit a fire in us and caused us to re-double our efforts in to trying to bring home a limit for each of us. We hunted more, scouted more, and spent more money, becoming better and more proficient duck hunters in the process.
Its early, extremely early. The bars haven’t even closed yet but I am already up and have a cup of coffee in my hand as I get into the truck for the drive to the boat ramp to launch the boat. Its opening day of early teal in Texas, the heat and humidity most years make this a hunt one where you want go swimming after you hunt, but not today. It’s cool for a September morning.
We are excited to be chasing ducks again. The dove hunting has been fun, and the dogs are tuned up and ready to go after an off-season of training and finally getting to hunt doves over the last weeks. We settle into the marsh, set up the boat blind and put out the decoys. I look at my watch: 3:30am. We fire up the backpacking stove, boil water and make coffee. We tell stories of duck seasons past, and wait on that first whistling wing. It’s 30 minutes before sunrise. Legal shooting time comes and we have birds work into the spread and land. We do not shoot at them because of the large group coming in behind them. We skylight them against the slowly rising sun and call the shot. We fire 5 shots and take 4 blue wing teal. I know this is the kind of morning we dream about as hunters. Before we can even send the dog out to retrieve, we have another group that works in and we fire 6 shots between the two of us and send the dog and go to pick up the birds. We each have four birds and the sun hasn’t even risen yet. We are only 15 minutes into legal shooting time. As we set back down in the boat and steady ourselves for the next group, four more blue wings work into the decoys we pull up and fire. After the excitement for the volley of shells passes, we count the birds. We had each harvested two more birds. We had our limit and the sun was just now peeking over the horizon as a red orange ball. We sat for at least an hour watching birds work our spread, land, swim around, and take off to go join other birds in the pursuit of food. We had our limit, and upon getting that limit, I learned it wasn’t about the birds on our straps but the memories made chasing that limit. The lessons learned were not just about hunting but life lessons about hard work and dedication.
Story by Jeremy Beaston