The Warden received the call from the dispatcher that a 911 call was just made out of the small Wisconsin Mississippi river town of Ferryville. The first 911 call since the service was recently installed there. The caller had said he was at the Ferryville boat landing and heard people calling for help out on the river. He said he was unable to see anyone floating in the water but said that because of high winds the waves were very big.

The DNR Warden scrambled for his plane and took off from La Crosse Wisconsin airport heading for the Ferryville area. The distance only about 20 miles was covered quickly and at the same time an ambulance was dispatched to the boat launch, along with several volunteers.

From the air the Warden saw two people struggling in the water about a hundred yards off shore. He also noticed part of a boat upside down floating about a half mile from the launch.

It started early one November morning before sunrise when two boats headed out of the Ferryville launch into the dark. Each with two duck hunters in their boats. With GPS in hand our boat headed southwest, and the other headed straight west across the huge Ferryville bay. The conditions were 35 degrees and no wind. The river was flat.

My brother-in-law Bob and I were in the boat headed west to a small Island we had scouted the day before about a mile and a half from the boat launch. Friends of mine Steve and John headed out to a protected area dotted with Islands. We were part of a hunting group from southeastern Wisconsin making our annual pilgrimage to the big river on a duck hunt. This year we stayed at a comfortable set of cabins over looking the river in DeSoto Wisconsin.

Bob and I had hunted the river five years in a row but normally would launch in the protected waters more north near DeSoto Wisconsin about 7 miles up river. We had scouted the Ferryville area and because of all the stumps we figured we’d be better off if we had a mud motor. The mud motor, designed for shallow water with no lower unit is the duck hunters dream for running in shallow water. Well this year I had a new mud motor and was anxious to try it out. I had it on a 16 foot modified-v jon boat. Jon and Steve also had a new mud motor on their boat.

As we headed out, we were excited to be hunting ferryville. For years we watched from the northern more protected waters of the river as huge flocks of ducks rafted up out here. Finally now we’d be able to get a crack at those birds. Its not like hunting wasn’t good where we were at. It was. But there was just something about that big water we wanted.

My boat was a classic duck boat. A 16 foot 72 inch beam modified-v hull alumacraft jon. I had built a PVC boat blind on it completely covering it with a camo tarp like a tent. I also had four large 4X4 grass mats inside rolled up, 120 decoys, lunches, guns, shells and along with the wood platforms covered in outdoor carpet that I had installed to make handy compartments it was quite heavy. It still floated high in the water and appeared sea worthy.

After following my GPS coordinates to the small Island we had been the day before we noticed a flashlight beaming off the Island. "Damn, someone’s on our island" I said. Now every duck hunter knows that sick feeling when someone beats you to your spot. Now we had to find a place to hunt in the dark. Not an easy task.

We headed northwest about a half a mile and pulled up in a shallow bay of another island facing east. We quickly put our decoys out, set up the blind and although we were disappointed that we didn’t get our original island, we were still optimistic about the hunt. Our plan was to hunt until about one o’clock in the afternoon.

After opening we noticed the hunter at the original island was getting a lot of shooting and figured we had made a good choice. At about nine o’clock in the morning the island thief was gone, zipping across the river in his jet drive boat. If it wasn’t for the 120 decoys we had out we might have reclaimed our spot. On the other hand the bay we were in simply wasn’t producing. Anyone who duck hunts knows scouting is most important. If the ducks don’t want a particular area, no matter how great of a caller you are or how good your decoys look, it doesn’t matter if they don’t want to be there.

Even as the breeze picked up shortly after sunup we were set on shooting some Ferryville ducks. Being back in the bay we didn’t notice the wind picking up. The sun was making our heavy hunting clothes feel plenty warm. I was wearing long jons, a heavy sweatshirt, jeans, hunting shirt, insulated camo coveralls and heavy hunting boots. Bob was wearing long jons, sweatshirt, jeans, hunting jacket and neoprene waders. The temperature had climbed into the fifties but the wind gusts were now much over 20mph.

As I looked out onto the river I said "hey Bob look at those white caps out there". Bob replied "you still want to stay out until one o’clock?" It was only ten thirty and although we wanted to stay longer the birds just weren’t flying. "It looks like its getting rough out there, we better pick up" I said. The bay we were in was tucked into the island about a hundred yards and we really couldn’t see the intensity of the waves. After eating a half loaf of delicious strawberry bread that John’s wife Jody made us, we decided to pick up.

Bob was in the water with his waders on picking up decoys while I was in the boat grabbing decoys with the push pole. Bob had rolled up the grass mats and while handing them to me they fell into the water. As I lifted them into the boat I noticed how heavy they were soaked with water. With everything packed up at 11:00am, I cranked up the mud motor and started across the river.

Almost immediately I reached down and unhooked My dog Xena from the rope that prevented her from running around the boat. I noticed the white caps now, and didn’t want the dog tied up, preventing her from escaping in an emergency. I kept crabbing west into the wind and was struggling to keep the front of the boat into the waves turning north and west. As we got further into the river the waves got bigger. The winds now gusting over 30mph out of the north was making it impossible for me to keep the mud motor’s prop in the water. Because of the design of the prop and length of the shaft, the waves raised up the back of the boat, then the prop would come out of the water. This made the boat spin in the direction of the wind sideways to the hard pounding waves. Not good. As this happened I tried adjusting the pitch knob on the back of the motor. When I saw it maxed out in the down position, I knew we were in trouble. I just couldn’t get the prop to stay in the water to control the boat. All of a sudden Bob said "oh no, Rick look at this". When I looked down I couldn't believe what I saw, it was like a dream. The boat was more than half filled with water.

I yelled to Bob "get the life vests", "hurry up, get them out from under the decoys". I had the life vests under the front deck of the boat and the 120 decoys were now piled on the deck. Then the boat’s front end went under water and I pulled the kill switch. Bob was frantically throwing decoys trying to get at the life vests. The boat began tipping left and right. Bob got the vests out and tossed one to me. With life vests on, we began jumping from the left to the right side of the boat as it was turning up on one side then the other. I grabbed my dog Xena as she started to panic and tossed her over the side. Just then the boat rolled over and we were tossed into the poles of the boat blind and the cold water.

We smashed at the plastic poles to free ourselves. As the cold water soaked through my warm clothes I knew we were in trouble. As the current pushed me away from the boat (now upside down and nearly submerged) I heard Bob yell out "I’m stuck in the decoy line". I tried to get back, but the Mississippi current was to strong to go against and the two plus foot waves were crashing into me, tossing me up and down. Bob freed himself and started drifting south. As I looked back at the boat I saw my dog Xena with a dummy in her mouth trying to climb on the back corner of the boat that was barely sticking up out of the water. Bob yelled to her "Xena", I said "no", "don’t call her, she’ll try to climb on us and might drowned us".

Suddenly Bob said he could stand. "What do mean you can stand" I asked. "I can touch the bottom" Bob told me. I could barely feel the bottom but my face went under water as my toe touched bottom". Bob is taller then I' am and the difference in height was enough to put Bob’s feet on the bottom while still being able to keep his head above water.

Bob could walk slowly along the bottom but I needed to swim. Bob was getting pushed south and yelled to him "Bob, your going south", "we have to go east towards the boat landing". I said "Bob we have to stay together, don’t leave me". I grabbed onto his arm and hung on. I knew we would have a better chance of survival if we stayed together.

After some two to three hundred yards Bob was unable to walk on the bottom anymore. The depth of the water was now well over our heads.

Time seemed to stop, we were now separated by some fifty yards and both of us swimming for shore. As the southerly Mississippi river current was trying to push us south, the 2-3 foot waves were pounding over our heads. Occasionally we would gag from inhaling the brown water.

I began thinking about what my family would say if I died out here. They’re probably going to say, "well at least he died doing something he loved". "I sure ain't loving this right now" I thought. Than I began to think about my four children and wonderful wife Julie. I thought how glad I was that my 16 year old son didn’t go on this trip, and I was happy my Father and Uncle were hunting a much more protected area. I also worried about my friends John and Steve who were hunting off the same landing but more north. Just then a bufflehead duck swooped down past my face, not more than ten feet in front of me.

Bob was also silent and I’m sure thinking about his family too. His wife Robin, daughter Laura and his 5 year old son Jake that hasn’t hunted with his Dad yet. We both thought about our families and who would raise our children. These things hounded us as time nearly stopped.

We kept swimming, hoping someone would come by in a boat. But it wasn’t to be. The river was just too rough now and nobody was out. A drake mallard cupped in and landed in the water not twenty feet from us. The duck looked our two bobbing heads in the water with a kind of chuckle and flew out. "How about that huh Bob". Bob just said "ya, that figures".

A lot of things ran through our minds but now it was getting cold, we were in the water over an hour and my legs began to give out. I could only partially move them. I turned back to look at Bob. I could barely see Bob’s face over the waves and it appeared he was sleeping. "Bob", I yelled. "Are you all right". After a pause I was relieved when he answered. "Just a little bit farther"," just a little bit farther" Bob finally replied. I looked at the boat landing and saw my truck. "God please don’t let me die looking at my truck" I thought. The boat landing was now only two hundred yards away but I was nearly frozen.

We were exhausted barely gaining any ground at all. When a white pickup truck drove down to the boat landing and a Man stepped out. We began to yell, "Hey", "help", "help", "help". After a minute or two the man got back in his truck and drove off. I remember saying to Bob, "were going to have to do this ourselves, nobody's going to help us".

Apparently he notified 911 who dispatched the Warden in his plane. They also notified the Ferryville rescue.

A few minutes later the Mayor of the town of Ferryville and another citizen raced into the small launch site, gravel flying everywhere and along with the local tavern owner and another helper they quickly launched their deep-v boats and headed out for the rescue effort. They knew of the windy cold conditions on this November day and figured they had better hurry. It wouldn’t take long for hyperthermia to set in.

As the boats headed out they saw us floating with life jackets on. The boat pulled up to us and we clung to both sides of the boat. The rescue worker in the front of the boat looked down at me in horror knowing by the bluish pale look on my face that I had been in the cold water for a long time and appeared I wasn’t doing to well. He grabbed onto our coats and said "don’t worry I wont let you go". They had shut the outboard motor off and were having a hard time getting it started again. The operator of the boat was pretty shook up and had forgotten to take the choke off. No matter how much he pulled on the starting chord it wouldn't start.

As the boat sat in the water one of the rescue workers said "were floating back out". After hearing that I responded "let me go", "I can make it myself". There was no way I wanted to go back the way I came. The rescue worker said "not a chance", "I’m not letting you go". Another boat pulled up and more rescuers latched onto this boat. With both boats floating in the water they decided to try and pull us into the running boat and head to shore. Bob told them "take him, he’s not doing to good, I’m ok". So the rescuers heaved me out of the water into the bottom of the boat and raced onto shore beaching the boat some ten feet onto the gravel launch at full speed.

They helped me out of the boat and asked him if I could walk. Unable to speak I nodded my head yes and they let go of me. Unable to even stand I immediately collapsed to the ground and they quickly picked me up again. While two people held me up, the rescue workers told me they need to take my clothes off. "One, two, three" they said as they pulled down my soaked coverall’s. I instantly felt chilled when the cold November wind hit my now exposed skin. I started shaking uncontrollably. They wrapped me up in a blanket and asked him which vehicle was mine. Shaking uncontrollably I replied "th th th f f f f ford".

By now the other boat was in and Bob was peeled of his neoprene waders, which probably was a key in him not being nearly as hypothermic as the I was. Bob is also a big guy and his waders fit him like a glove. He was cold, no question about it, but not nearly as cold as I was. It was now nearly 1:30pm and we had been in the water for over two hours.

Both of us were taken in the ambulance to the town hall and brought inside. They dried us off and they packed hand warmers all over me. After blood pressures were taken they decided to take us to the hospital in Prairie Du Chein Wisconsin, some thirty miles away.

In the ambulance my temperature was taken and the paramedic said "his temp is coming up, its at 89 degrees. Than they took my blood pressure and the lady replied "he might be going into shock". Although I was still shaking badly and could only stutter while talking, I said "no no I’m not going into shock", "I’m fine".

After the siren blasting speeding on dirt road construction drive to the hospital they brought us to emergency and stuck an IV in us. Then we talked to the doctor. Next the Warden came in and started his report. By now I could talk and my vitals were returning to normal.

The Warden explained to us that the bartender’s wife had heard about an accident out on the river where two duck hunters went overboard. As she looked out the big window of the bar overlooking the river she said "Bruiser, did those guys that went in the river have a dog with them"? Bruiser (the owner of the Ferryville tavern) asked, "Why"? "Because there’s a dog swimming south in the middle of the river", she said. Bruiser grabbed a pair of binoculars and looked out the window. "That’s not a dog, it’s a log", Bruiser said. His wife grabbed the binoculars from him and looked again. "Bruiser, that’s not a log, it’s a dog, now get out there and get that poor dog".

Bruiser and a couple friends got their boat, raced to the launch and headed out. When they got offshore a ways they saw the boat tipped upside down with just the back corner sticking out of the water. There clinging to the back corner of the boat was a small soaked, and shivering black lab. The dog must have somehow swam back to the boat. Bruiser pulled up to the dog reluctant of grabbing her for fear of a bite, when the dog jumped off the sunken duck boat into theirs. She curled up in the bottom of the boat like a drowned rat. Meanwhile Bruiser and clan grabbed what floating gear they could, latched onto the upside down jon boat and fought the waves back to shore.

The Warden then asked me if he had a dog with me. I told him I did, but I don’t think she made it. The Warden said "oh, she made it"; "the tavern owner found her about a half hour later with the boat". I couldn’t believe it. "Where is she"? He asked. "She’s with one of your friends". They also picked up your boat, a few decoy’s and then put the boat on the trailer and got a hold of your Dad". My Father, Uncle, and friends were hunting another part of the river and had heard about the accident. The Warden said "it’s great you guys had your life vests on or you never would have made it".

As My Dad and Uncle sat in the cabin waiting for everyone to come back in from hunting, a car sped up to the cabin. A young guy got out and said "you hunting with Bob and Rick"? His Dad said "yes, why". The man said "well their boat flipped on the river and you better get to the hospital". "How are they"? They asked. "The big guy’s doing ok but the smaller guy isn’t doing so well. The room fell silent.

They immediately jumped in the truck and raced to the hospital. After a silent 30 minute drive (which is extremely unusual for these hunting brothers) they arrived at the Prairie Du Chein hospital. After a long time in the waiting room they asked the nurse if they could see Rick and Bob. With no success they left on their own searching for the room we were in.

As Bob and I began to recover the door banged open and they rushed in the room. The four became slightly teary eyed, hugged and we began to explain what happened.

After a couple hours we fully recovered and returned to the cabin. Awaiting us was the rest of our hunting group. Tommy, my nephew who soon would serve his country in Iraq, long time friends John and Steve who new first hand how bad it was that day as they to crossed the mighty river but a tad north, and dog training buddies Henry, Skip and Larry. After a very emotional few minutes we went to our rooms.

As I sat in the one room cabin by myself I laid out my soaking wet pictures from my wallet. Pictures of my wife Julie, sons Cory and Sean, daughters Haley and Jillian. I stared at them. Thinking how things could have been different. Than I thanked God, took the mud motor apart, cleaned it, lubed it, charged the battery and packed it up with hunting gear and what decoys we had left. The next day Bob and I were on the river again. No, not in Ferryville.

We are a lot wiser from our near death experience and certainly hope we don’t relive that November 2001 day again.

Read "The Morning After"