An Outdoorsman’s Journal: Fall waterfowl hunt on the Turtle Flambeau Flowage

Hello friends, This week’s column is going to go a mile a minute, as there is a ton to write about. I generally hunt the northern Wisconsin duck opener on the Turtle Flambeau Flowage. I missed it due to the fact that my nephew Trent Schuster happened to get married to a very nice lady named Amanda Wendt. Run, Amanda, run!

Instead, I headed north with the pups, my War Eagle and my canoe on Monday and though I knew the shooting would be minimal, I was very excited for the trip and now had something else that I could blame on Trent.

Monday, Sept. 23 – High 74, low 42 Here is the plan: launch the canoe and War Eagle, travel with very happy pups to duck paradise, hunt, sleep in War Eagle Hotel and repeat that process for two more days. Folks, I was on a roll, and when I got home I would only have one day before I headed southwest for the southern Wisconsin opener on the Mississippi River. So, I anchor the War Eagle, load the canoe for the afternoon expedition and am a bit concerned that I have yet to see a duck. “Thanks, Trent.” I paddle to no man’s land and there are zero waterfowl, but I am doing “forced nothing,”which I really need to do. After two hours I am buzzed by a flock of teal and miss; this would be my only experience until after shooting hours. Ten minutes after shooting hours were over, I watched a hundred million mallards buzz me. Waterfowl really seem to learn when you cannot shoot at them. Back at the War Eagle Hotel, I lit a propane lantern and really enjoyed the evening. At about 10 o’clock I rolled out a tarp, put my sleeping bag in it and tried to sleep.

Tuesday, Sept. 24 – High 76, low 40 Sleeping did not work out so well. There were multiple problems, such as I was on the floor of my boat and it was too short to lay lengthwise; there was a very heavy dew and my sleeping bag sucked up moisture at a steady rate; and both pups demanded the best spot on the floor, which was the top of my head. So, I am up and at ‘em two hours before daylight, I paddle to duck paradise and am a little concerned that I am not flushing any of the millions of mallards that I saw last night. I was so careful that I didn’t even turn on my headlamp.

Daylight arrives and I do not see a single duck:“Thanks, Trent.”Two hours after daylight, a goose flies over and I foolishly think it is out of range; it wasn’t. An hour later, I saw a lone goose, it was at least a half mile away. I can honestly say that because I am so horrible at calling geese that I have not tried in 15 years. I give my best attempt and the bird does a 180 and heads my way, then it turns around and leaves the zone. I decide to try again, give a honk, it does a 180, comes in with its wings set and I dumped it. Two hours later I dropped another and all was well.

At midday I try a snooze, but it does not work. I decide to go exploring by canoe. I find a 4-inch musky that has just died, and it has a small walleye in its mouth that I am sure was too big to digest. Once again, it was proven that gluttony can kill. I also observe that the water is down about 16 inches from normal and every muskrat den is above the water line. That is not good if you are a muskrat.

With three hours of daylight left, I pick a pretty spot to sit and put out my decoys. I had one round of shooting and that was at a wood duck. It seemed to have been tickled and sailed a good 300 yards, out of sight. When shooting hours were over, the pups and I went looking for it and by God, Ruby found it. Sleeping was the same as the previous night, and the following morning I did not get a shot.

If you see Trent Schuster, punch him in the shoulder and tell him his Uncle Mark sent that his way! Sunset

Mark Walters