New Orleans-area hunters have plenty of ducks to shoot, but they may need to do a little more legwork or piroguing to get to them. Photo by John N. Felsher

By John N. Felsher

By the time most ducks arrive in south Louisiana marshes, they've seen thousands of blinds and decoy spreads stretched over the 3,000-mile shooting gallery that is their migration corridor. With Canadian waterfowl seasons beginning months before Louisiana seasons, birds face about five months of shooting pressure before the season ends.

Young or stupid birds fall to predators or sportsmen before they ever reach the Gulf Coast. By January, the ducks in Louisiana have demonstrated extraordinary savvy. Veteran mallards don't grow old by being gullible. By the time survivors hit the wintering grounds, even first-year ducks are seasoned veterans.

In January, many sportsmen stare at empty skies in coastal marshes and wonder: "Where are the ducks?" Well, the ducks have arrived in coastal Louisiana - they just aren't committing stupid errors like being detectible by you: They've learned to avoid man. They can distinguish nearly every type of tantalizing decoy spread imaginable. They can pick out blinds. They can instantly discern the sound of real quacks, ignoring the phony ones.

From Jan. 6 through Jan. 9, 2004, the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries flew aerial surveys over coastal marshes, Catahoula Lake near Alexandria and up the Mississippi River to northeast Louisiana to determine duck populations. The survey estimated that 3.4 million ducks arrived in Louisiana - 1.1 million more than a similar survey conducted in December 2003.

The survey numbers came in slightly below the previous five-year average of 3.8 million for that time of year, but slightly ahead of the long-term average of 3.2 million. The report also indicated that birds were widely distributed across coastal and southwest Louisiana rice fields.

About 1.58 million appeared in southwest Louisiana and 1.51 million in southeast Louisiana marshes. The survey estimated 291,000 ducks on Catahoula Lake, much higher than the 43,000 reported a month earlier. The survey also estimated 113,000 ducks in northeast Louisiana and about 335,000 scaup on Lakes Pontchartrain and Borgne.

Despite those positive numbers, hunters still wondered why they found little action in their blinds, some blaming conservation groups for "short-stopping" birds (although the numbers came in above the long-term average), others the weather, for not pushing enough ducks south.

In fact, ducks arrived in appropriate numbers, as they have for centuries: They just didn't approach blinds where they could be shot at. They stayed on large inland lakes or rode the waves just offshore in the Gulf of Mexico. If boats disturbed them, they took off, circled and landed exactly where they'd floated minutes ago. When not sitting on large waters, they poured into refuges or other sanctuaries where they could escape from hunting pressure. At night, they flew to marshes and rice fields to feed.

At places like Catahoula Lake, hunters might not bag a bird all day. However, if they stay in their blinds 30 minutes after legal shooting hours end, they might see thousands of mallards, pintails, gadwalls, teal and other ducks flooding into the lake. Ducks sit on the lake all night, because after they've feeding in nearby agricultural fields, it affords them sanctuary from predators; then, before first light, they disappear. With high-speed wings, ducks can cover a considerable distance quickly. They might roost more than 100 miles from where they feed.

When ducks won't respond to normal methods, it's time to change tactics. If late-season ducks become blind-shy and call-shy, they might not come to hunters, so hunters must go to them.

At times, these marshes provide some of the best duck hunting in Louisiana. Hunters bag mostly teal, gadwalls, mottled ducks, widgeon and divers, with occasional mallards and pintails. Unlike other public hunting properties, this vast wet wilderness could benefit from more hunting pressure. Huge numbers of birds often congregate in isolated lagoons.

We'd build temporary blinds out of bushes and tall reeds, or simply squat in the marsh grass. We'd toss about a dozen decoys into potholes. After the early-morning flights stopped, we'd sometimes explore the vast labyrinth of interconnected sloughs, ponds and bayous in the endless marsh. Paddling our pirogues, we'd try to find some of those undisturbed, isolated lagoons holding scores of ducks. Quite often, this strategy proved more effective than would sitting in a pond with decoys.

Federal laws prevent hunters from shooting at ducks from boats under power (this includes sails and electric trolling motors). Before anyone may shoot out of a boat, the motor must stop and all forward momentum of the boat cease. However, sportsmen can shoot ducks from human-powered boats.

Some mornings, we wouldn't even bother with decoys. We'd slowly paddle our pirogues through the labyrinthine sloughs and ponds, looking to jump ducks. Periodically, we'd stop paddling to listen for quacking, splashing or other sounds. We'd scan the bayous ahead for telltale movement, wakes or anything unusual.

With shotguns stretched across our laps, we'd hug the shorelines, trying to make ourselves blend in with the grassy edges. We preferred broken shorelines with plenty of points, coves and other irregularities instead of open ponds or long straight canals. As silently as possible, we'd dip our paddles into the water, a strip of rubber bicycle tube stretched along the gunwale reducing paddle noises. (Water dripping from a paddle can alert wary ducks, as sound travels long distances over water, especially on still mornings.) In very shallow hard-bottomed areas, we could use paddles almost like push poles. Whenever possible, we'd scull along weedy shorelines without lifting paddles from the water.

When coming around bends, we'd cautiously take the inside curve, hugging the grass for concealment. Quite frequently, a pair of ducks or a flock might explode from the water as we'd round a bend; sometimes they'd jump from the water almost next to the boat. With this method, we'd bag mallards, teal, gadwalls, divers and just about any type of duck found in southeast Louisiana.

Jumping offers excellent opportunities to teach children about hunting. Children soon grow bored by sitting in cold blinds for long hours. At least with paddling, they can see different scenery, and might spot some other illusive wildlife such as otters, raccoons or minks.

When jump-shooting with more than one person, designate one shooter; for safety reasons, take turns. The person in the stern acts as spotter and paddler. Only the designated shooter in the bow should hold a loaded gun at ready.

When jump-shooting from boats, use full-choked shotguns. Wary masters of concealment, ducks may erupt from a bayou or slough at any moment. Hunters must remain alert and react quickly before birds fly out of range. Ducks can spring from weeds less than 10 feet from a boat or from more than 40 yards away.

Use chokes and ammunition that can reach out and knock down big ducks at distances. Today, several makers of nontoxic bismuth, tungsten and other heavy loads reach out with considerable stopping power almost like the old lead shot.