Adventure's Outdoors'

In Wisconsin

As I prepare for my annual pilgrimage to "the pipe" on opening day of duck hunting this year I reflect on some of the moments I spent there with my family and friends.

The "pipe" is a special place. It has the natural beauty that can only be shared with special people. It was discovered by my Father and Uncle on a local duck hunt just kind of walking through the woods some twenty years ago.

My father shot his first drake wood duck there, I shot my first drake wood duck there and both of my sons have followed suit. Many more friends and relatives of ours have harvested their first drake woodies there also, and I’m sure many more to come.

The wood duck has gained my respect time and time again. As they come through the tree’s zigging and zagging, dropping and climbing I have always been astounded at there fighter jet like maneuverability.

Their colorful feathers make this bird the most beautiful and sought after for the den wall.

They have a huge desire for survival. If you get lucky and hit one of these little feather rainbow’s you better get ready to put a water swat on it to finish the job. If you don’t and you’re in two feet of water or more, kiss it good by. They will dive and bury themselves under water beneath the first submerged object they find.

Seldom have we taken any different species of duck other then woodies on the "pipe". In the last twenty years we might have put one or two mallards and a couple of teal on the dinner plate. Every now and then a duck other than the wood duck try’s to sneak in the "pipe" to escape the sky busters out on the marsh.

The "pipe" is a small river winding its way through a tangle of hardwoods, located within a public hunting area in southern Wisconsin. It’s off the beaten path a half mile from the parking lot. Most people that hunt off the dike, in the marsh or on the lakes know its there because of the barrage of shooting at times, but they either can’t find it or when they do, they cant find their way back. Many people have gotten lost in the woods that surround the "pipe".

The shooting on the marsh indicates the success of hunters out there, although many of the shots comes from the guns of Chinese chicken (pheasant) hunters sky blasting who are just warming their guns up for the up and coming chicken season.

You may only take two woodies to make your limit which is usually attained early in the day, but lately the acorn crop hasn’t been as good as other years and the last couple years we haven’t seen a juvenile bird. A couple years ago we hunted the area pretty hard and took thirty eight wood ducks off the pipe, recently we only took ten with moderate hunting.

When I cut off the trail turning into the woods I take a deep breath, smell the crisp air with fragrance of fall plants and decaying leaves. I walk off adjusting myself in the direction of the hunting grounds as I skirt fallen trees and heavy growth. Somehow without really concentrating I find the familiar corner of the river, I sneak up to the edge of the water whispering to the black lab that’s always with me to be still. As the first group of woodies abandons their roost I look up river at the funnel of trees sagging on both shores wondering how many wood ducks will fall later when my Father and uncle start shooting.

The "pipe" itself is reserved for them as they are the veterans and founders of this special place. They do let visitors hunt in the nearby areas of the river.

These visitors including myself should feel extremely thankful to be able to hunt in such a peaceful place with such beauty and so close to an entourage of hunters but completely by yourself.

Some day I will inherit the pipe as its next aire, but hopefully not soon.

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