This public-land bowhunter uses pressure to his advantage, and he has the racks on the wall to prove his techniques work.
For all but a few lucky hunters, last year’s duck season along coastal Louisiana can only be described as “the season that wasn’t.” Tidal waters moving at hyperspace speed stripped previously placid ponds of their coontail, widgeon grass and other submergent aquatic vegetation when Hurricane Katrina left her indelible mark on Southeast Louisiana.
Then, of course, a month later, Rita did the same to the marshes of Southwest Louisiana, but she also carried inland a wall of salty Gulf water that she unkindly left behind in the normally ultra-productive rice fields of the region.
Either of those events in any year would have been a major news story, and would have had duck hunters in particular singing the blues. To have them both occur in the same year — one month apart — is almost beyond belief. If an author had written that in a novel, he would have been besmirched for hawking poppycock.
But the surface of the hammer swung by the two storms could have been velveted by a wet autumn, winter and spring. Like an evil villain with super powers, the salt killed all with which it came in contact, turning lush, green wetlands into fields of fetid, rotting decay. But, like every superhero, the salt has an achilles heel — the diluting effects of fresh water rob it of its powers.
But, of course, the rains never came. The fall, winter and spring were among the driest ever recorded in South Louisiana.
Talk about bad timing.
Even into the lengthening days of spring — eight and nine months after the storms — the salt just sat under the poker-straight rays of the sun, charring any remaining vegetation and soaking into parched earth, where it would lay in wait to kill any future sprouts.
The summer did finally provide some relief. Although June continued the season of drought, July skies provided near-normal amounts of rainfall, which is seasonably heavy in July, and the first couple of weeks of August followed suit.
Redfish anglers casting spinnerbaits and topwaters into marsh ponds began to report isolated pockets of hook-tangling grass in Plaquemines, St. Bernard, Jefferson and Lafourche parishes.
Out west, the rains have come too late to help rice farmers, many of whom had no choice but to leave their fields barren this year. That’ll further decrease the dining options available to arriving ducks this fall and winter.
And many are expected to arrive.
The counts are up from last year, which was actually a strong year when compared to the long-term averages. Of particular interest to Louisiana hunters, gadwall numbers are off the charts. Sixty-seven percent more gadwall will make the flight south over the continent this year than in a typical year.
The birds are coming. Will we be ready for them?
We will if Mother Nature sends us some good, soaking rainfalls in September and October. The all-at-once rains that come from tropical events don’t help as much. But if we can get a few inches every week, the duck food will rebound magically.
Our party guests are on the way. Let’s hope for a little rain on our parade.
