Alvin Fairchild was sitting in a climber, freezing to death. He had earned that right, walking far into Sherburne Wildlife Management Area to hunt an area in which he and life-long friend Floyd Coye had scored time and time again.
David Sims exchanged yodels with wary specklebellies, coaxing them ever closer to our pit blind. Stopping to catch his breath before starting another series of calls, he whispered to remind us, Wait til I say shoot em.
Soft yelps and yodels from a specklebelly slipped across the atmosphere overhead, where a high winter fog hid circling birds from our view. By contrast, a slight northerly breeze kept much of the wet mist off the face of the flooded rice fields where we set up along a levee. A flock of 500 give or take mixed snows, blues and specks nervously milled about one field over from ours.
I opened the email and started to read. And, like a drug pusher, it began, he eased the intoxicating liquor of waterfowl feather to his friend. Take a sip, he said. If you dont like it, thats okay. Duck hunters are a strange lot and its not for everybody.
Who in their right mind would pick up a topwater rod during the middle of winter? It doesn't seem like a very smart thing to do, but there is a contingent of speckled trout anglers who do just that when most everybody else is mining the bottom.
Over a year ago, a Pierre Part resident got a call that forever changed his life. A buddy who works at the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries called to tell the man that he had just given his name and phone number to some folks from New York.
This 178-inch beast had never been seen before being shot by Kris Melancon on Nov 19.