Iowa Duck Season Opens Saturday - Blue-winged Teal Will Make or Break Hunter Success

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The first segment of Iowa's 2009 split duck hunting season begins Saturday, September 19. Regardless of which region of the state hunters choose to go, the success of early season September outings will hinge largely on the abundance [or scarcity] of blue-winged teal.

Big things come in small packages. One of the attributes that makes this pint-sized species so recreationally important is that teal are readily accessible to duck hunters of all ages and at all levels of expertise. Although blue-wings will utilize a variety of wetland habitats, they prefer shallow well vegetated marshes. Find a secluded pothole containing two or three inches of water covered with duckweed and surrounded by cattails, and you can rest assured that you're standing smack in the middle of teal country. No massive blind boats or expensive equipment required here. A light bag of decoys, a good pair of waders, and pocket full of shells are all that's needed. All things considered, the blue-winged teal presents the perfect kickoff to fall hunting.
 

Regardless of weather, blue-winged teal are the very first ducks to move south each fall. No bird is tastier, but getting them to the oven means getting an early start to your season. Here Today; Gone Tomorrow is the blue-wing's credo.

The teal's sudden, warm weather migrations are nothing new. A news brief posted in the Clear Lake Mirror Reporter at the end of August, 1896, reported that a local hunter named John Berkley had gotten his early season off to a roaring start by shooting 73 of the ducks. The newspaper noted that this was the best report they had received so far, but that during the previous week "a great many hunters" had visited Clear Lake and that the fowlers had been fairly successful.

More than a century later, the ever popular blue-winged teal is still drawing the attention of Iowa hunters and is still the very first duck most youngsters bring to bag. I was no exception to the rule, and my first blue-wing encounter occurred in the fall of 1959 on a backwater pond of the Winnebago River.

It was just Dad and I, and the hunt actually began with the Friday night campout that remains a family tradition. As a duck crazy, revved up 10-year-old, I couldn't sleep a wink that night. All I could think about was the ducks.

Little more than 50 yards in width, the shallow pond barely contained enough water to float a good decoy. Nevertheless, Dad predicted that come morning, the place should be buzzing with teal. As it turned out, he knew what he was talking about.

Saturday morning finally arrived and the place was indeed buzzing. As I followed Dad through the vegetation that led to the water, the air was alive with crisp whistle of wings and swish of ducks splashing down. As we appeared at water's edge, the place literally erupted with birds.

Back then, everyone carried their decoys in burlap potato bags --- that's all there was. We had two bags worth that morning, and our spread consisted of an odd assortment of Saint Louis Air Ducks and Herter's balsa wood mallards and pintails. It took Dad forever to toss them out.

A fresh bundle of leafy willow spears provided a blind and the hunt was on. Like most youngsters of the day, I was packing a full-choke, .410 single-shot shotgun. I had no more than settled into the blind when the first ducks appeared. They were blue-winged teal, on the deck and traveling at warp speed. The ducks spotted the decoys and upon executing a hard right bank, came scorching back toward the spread. Within seconds the teal --- all 15 or 20 of them --- were noisily splashing in among our wooden counterfeits.

Completely mesmerized by the sight, I remained frozen in time. Snapping back to reality, I suddenly realized that here was an easy opportunity to collect a duck dinner. I made my move at about the same instant the teal made theirs. By the time I managed to shoulder the .410 the birds were long gone. All that remained were a set of converging ripples on the pond's surface.

I was ready to cry. Dad laughed, which made things all the worse until I finally laughed too. The ducks kept coming, and I eventually got plenty of shooting. My fourth blue-wing finally hit the water as I was mowing through my second box of shells.

Forget the lousy shooting. I was totally elated. On my very first duck hunt I had bagged my very first limit of ducks. I celebrated by watching Dad bag his limit of four blue-wings with four shells.
 

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