The Meto
It was just another Friday. The man had just gotten off work and hurried home. He quickly loaded up his Jon boat and hitched it up to his truck. He couldn’t wait to get to the timber as it was the only thing he could think of all week. The short drive to the public land went by fast and he was there in less than thirty minutes. Once he arrived to the land he backed his boat into the water and he filled the tank with gas. He knew that he would need all of the gas that he could use so he made sure that he had two containers of it with him. As soon as he pushed his boat away from the dock he could start to hear the squawk of the snow geese flying overhead. He knew that this was a good sign as it showed that the cold front that was blowing in was moving ducks and geese south. As he started to get his boat on plane he knew that he would have to keep his eyes on the lookout. He was looking for ducks in the flooded timber, Mallards specifically, as this species was one of the most prized in the Bayou Meto. The saying goes there “if it ain’t got a green head it ain’t a duck” as the locals only like to shoot the Drake Mallards which are known for their beautiful green heads. After fifteen minutes he quickly spotted his first group of ducks as they jumped out of the water and flew away. As he pushed on in the timber, he finally found the perfect spot. It was a clearing in the timber about fifty yards in diameter and it was full of “greenheads”. He figured that there were over fifty of them in that little spot. The boat was quickly turned around and driven out slowly as not to spook the ducks and scare them away. It was getting dark now and he took off towards the boat ramp. He knew this was where he would hunt in the morning.
The next morning came early at three o’ clock. It was too early to be up for a normal day but this day was special. It was the opening morning of duck season in Arkansas. This meant two things. First, that hunters from across the nation would come to the so called “Duck Capital of the World”, and that he would have to beat them to his spot. And it also meant that the sun would rise early and that legal shooting time would be around 6:35 so he would have to be in his spot ready by then. Knowing this, he started making a pot of coffee and got his retriever out of her kennel to go outside. Then he retrieved his shotgun and ammunition from the safe. It meant very much to him as it was one that his father handed down to him. He then proceeded to get his calls and decoys and throw them into the back of the truck. All he had left to do was to put his retriever into her kennel into the truck and then he could get going. This time the ride to the land seemed to take much longer because as he was excited as a kid on Christmas Eve. Once he arrived he once again launched his boat into the water. After saying a quick hello to everyone at the boat ramp, he loaded his gear and his dog into the boat and set off towards his spot. This early in the morning he was forced to use a spotlight to navigate towards his secret spot as he prayed that no one would be there before him. As his spotlights seam bounced across the flooded oak trees he could see some of the ice that had formed in the water. He knew that this was a good sign and that this would limit the places that ducks could land and they would hopefully land into his decoys. Before he knew it he had arrived at his spot. By this point at 4:30 in the morning the cold front that had blown in had frozen up his hole in the timber. After a few quick rides around the hole in his boat he broke the ice up and threw his decoys where he wanted the ducks to land. The next step was to wait till shooting light came. After a short nap the man woke up just before shooting light at 6:35, it was then that he climbed into his waders and crept into the water. He pushed his boat into thick flooded cover to hide it and went back to his decoys. He could hear the wood ducks squealing as they flew down from their roosts very early. As the sun started to rise he knew it would be a good day. This was the moment that he had been looking forward to all year. Before he knew it he had groups of Mallards circling the treetops just above his head. After a few quacks on his duck call the ducks were coaxed from the sky and dropped into his decoy spread. It was then that he caught himself staring at the beauty of these creatures and gained a new appreciation of how pretty they were. There he stood awestruck as these ducks seemed to catch his slightest movement and fly away. His retriever stood there looking at its owner motionless as if to ask “why didn’t you shoot?” but the dog didn’t realize that the man would let the first group of ducks come into his hole and leave as a show off respect towards these beautiful creatures. But the man knew that this was the only group that would get that honor and he would be ready for the next group that came in. Five minutes later there were more Mallards dropping into his hole and this group had two males in it. The shotgun was quickly raised and two shots rang out, milliseconds later these two birds dropped from the sky. Before the man could give a command his dog had jumped into the water and was already retrieving one of the ducks. What the dog came back with was a thing of beauty, it had a bright yellow beak, a dark green head, an iridescent purple on the back of its wings, and the characteristic feathers curling on its tail. The second bird was just as pretty and after an hour or two this man had shot his limit of ducks for the day and headed back home. At the boat ramp he was congratulated by the other hunters and had his picture taken with his ducks. After loading up his gear and heading home he knew the real work would begin. The man took half of the birds and he took the breasts out of them. The other half he painstakingly plucked and removed all of its feathers. Later that night for dinner he took the duck breasts, wrapped them in bacon, and proceeded to grill them. The plucked birds were cleaned and they were put in the oven. While eating at his table he couldn’t think of a better way to spend his day then to hunt and to eat the natural, unprocessed, and non-hormone filled meat from the animals that he had taken in the flooded timber of the Meto.