These are individual stories from various contributors. If you would like to contribute your story please email us. We would love to share your story. 

“Stories have to be told or they die, and when they die, we can't remember who we are or why we're here.”   - Sue Monk Kidd
Banded
October 7, 2019

Opening weekend of the 2019/2020 duck season in Nebraska was nothing short of spectacular. The hatch was probably one of the best the region has seen in years partly due to the overabundance of rain in the spring and summer in the panhandle, which provided ideal habitat conditions. A majority of the marshes were above full pool giving the birds the opportunity to spread out. Some of the marshes that were unhuntable in previous years due to the rushes being very thick had been thinned out by the muskrats providing huntable holes. In years of heavy rain like the spring and summer of 2019 the rushes do not grow because they are under water. In drier years they flourish with new growth. For the 2019/2020 season the marshes impacted by the muskrats the prior year had little to no new growth this year providing little concealment. But in that there is the adventure of new marshes to hunt. As we began the new season, we had the opportunity to hunt some new holes we could not hunt prior years. Opening morning provided to be nothing short of spectacular, birds buzzing the spread minutes before shooting time and then as shooting time came the action continued.

But the highlight of opening weekend was the afternoon goose hunt, which was unsuspected. On our drive to Nebraska Jimmy called and said he had found where the geese we had seen during early teal season were feeding in the afternoon and had secured permission. After we wrapped up the morning duck hunt and grabbed a bite to eat, we headed to setup in the wheat field. Jimmy wanted to be set up by three o’clock. We scurried to load up a truck load of full bodies and grabbed the layouts and we were off. We brushed the blinds and waited and waited and waited. We all had a chance to grab a quick nap in the blind before the onslaught would ensue and Jimmy got to watch his beloved Cornhuskers pull out a win. Meanwhile one member of our hunting party, Brian, started to get antsy as we passed the four o’clock hour and then the five o’clock hour. But at 5:45 it was as if the heavens opened up. The first group landed outside the spread and we quickly decided we need to get them up as to not pull the other birds over there, we all ran it to the plug and dispatched one. Everyone’s adrenalin was pumping now as more birds were in the air. With less than 45 minutes of shooting time left they came in and worked the spread flawlessly. Wave after wave of 20-50 bird per group. 4-8 birds falling each time from the groups. As we scurried to pick up birds, I noticed one was banded. As I brought it back to the blind Jimmy was screaming “No way! Do you know how many geese I have killed or watch die and have not killed a band since I was a kid.” He thought I had shot it but it was Brian who pulled the trigger because unfortunate for me my gun had jammed and I didn’t even shoot at that group. Brian was ecstatic to have killed it but there were more birds coming so back in the blinds for the next wave.

After the hunt was over and we were headed back to the shop Brian reported the band and got the certificate. As he read the data to me, I was thinking no way! Three years earlier I had killed a banded goose about 40 miles southwest of Alliance. I quickly grabbed my phone and pulled up my certificate. Both birds were banded the same day, same location and seven band numbers apart.

What a way to open the 2019/2020 season. 

Nebraska...the good life 
May 20, 2019
The Sandhills of Nebraska are a mythical places to some. Meadows and marshes visible from every hilltop in every direction. This is what dreams are made of for outdoorsmen who enjoy chasing any type of game. The state slogan of Nebraska might be the best way to sum it up "Nebraska...the good life". 

The return journey to Nebraska started for me in 2016 shortly after leaving. After a week spent in the western Nebraska panhandle I knew I had to return. The place we had hunted in 2016 came under new management in the spring of 2017 and I quickly found out we were getting nowhere fast trying to lease/hunt the land I had fallen in love with on my first trip. 

After hunting Kansas, Louisiana, Mississippi and Oklahoma for the 2017/2018 season I was determined to find a place to go hunt in Nebraska again for the 2018/2019 season. When we had been up there in 2016 I had marked some spots that looked promising, so I started calling around to try and get permission to hunt some of those marshes. After about five phone calls/rejections the guy on the phone said "you might want to call Jimmy Childers with Goose Buster Outfitters in Alliance". He was kind enough to give me his number and I gave Jim a call.

Now one thing you must know about me is if there is the chance to kill a duck or a goose I am going to kill ducks 99.99% of the time. I call Jimmy and we talk for a long while. I tell him we are looking for marshes to hunt in the Sandhills of Nebraska and was wondering if he had any out where he hunted. During the conversation he continually ask me if I am really sure I don't just want to kill geese. Every time I emphatically answer "No!, I just want to kill ducks." 

After about the third time talking with Jim and him trying to convince me to go goose hunting I finally tell him "Jimmy, I don't give a damn about geese, I want to shoot ducks in the face". Finally he relents and tells me to call him back the next week and he will look around and see if he can't find any ducks. 

In a week or so, I don't remember who called who, but Jimmy says he never realized how many ducks were in the marshes on the ranch. So we set a date of the weekend after Labor day for us to come out and teal hunt.

With built up anticipation of heading back to the Sandhill marshes of Nebraska I got on the phone to call the only other duckaholic crazy enough to make the ten plus hour drive from Tulsa to Nebraska. One call to David Lindsey was all it took. We quickly made plans for him to arrive in Tulsa on the Thursday night before and we would head out the next morning.

In tow was Boone, one of the Ducksouth traveling decoys, hand carved by Mr. Dale Bordelon. Boone had never left the swamps of Louisiana and in his former life was a cypress root in Catahoula Lake Mr. Dale found one day on the bank. Boone was in for the start to his 2018/2019 adventure across the US and Canada.

David and I finally arrived in Alliance Friday evening and meet up with Jimmy at Ken and Dales. I honestly didn't know what this place was from the name but I can tell you that if you are in Alliance stop in and have a burger because they are delicious. We made plans to meet Jim at our hotel the next morning and we would head out to the marsh. 4:30 am go time.

Lets just say David and I had stayed up too late Thursday night and then had a few drink with Jimmy upon arrival and closed the place down. The next morning David and I slept through the alarm, the hotel wouldn't give Jimmy our room number and finally after much negotiation they called and woke us up. David and I scurried to get dressed and we were in the truck and headed to the "Wagon Wheel" set.

We set the decoys and it was not long before the teal were buzzing around the marsh. We made some adjustments and killed our limits within a few hours. We retired to the hotel for a nap after a ride around the ranch and deciding on the hole for the next morning.

The plan was to go on a dove hunt at one of the windmills that afternoon around 2:30. David and I awoke and David wasn't feeling well. With his previous heart issues he looks at me and says I have to go to the hospital. We jump in the truck, I got Jimmy on the phone to direct me to the hospital and I drive David to the ER. Jimmy pulls in right after me. Now for a guy David and I met less than 24 hours ago you would have thought Jimmy was a long time friend. He sat there with us as they got David situated in a room and soon as David was in his room he said you and Jimmy go kill some dove and shoot me a limit of teal in the morning. So Jimmy and I set off to kill some dove.

Having grown up in one of the best dove fields in central Mississippi I wasn't expecting a barn burner of a shoot. Well my expectations were exceeded within 10-15 minutes. Birds from every direction imaginable the shoot was fast and furious. I quickly killed a limit and Jimmy and I sat on the tailgate and enjoyed an adult beverage as we watched a beautiful storm roll in from the west as the sun set.

The next morning, in a hole eventually dubbed the "Honey Hole" Jimmy and I quickly limited out. It was one of those mornings you could pick your shot and there was so good ribbing about missed shots and some shots which were spectacular. 

After the hunt Jim and I sat for a while and just watched the teal continue to work in the hole. As we sat there my thoughts drifted to David who was stuck in the hospital, so with the limited service we had I pulled out my phone and called David. Before I could tell him about the stellar hunt we had, he told me he would be released shortly after noon and everything was okay with him. As Jim and I picked up decoys and we headed back to the blacktop I could not wait until the next trip back. 

It was good to be back in the Nebraska Sandhills and that was just teal season. As I have said may times heading back to Oklahoma "The Nebraska panhandle is what my heaven looks like." 

- Patrick Grower
Dove Season 2017                                                                                June 27,2018
Labor Day weekend has always been the start of hunting season for me since I was  a teenager hunting with my cousins and uncles. It was a time for fellowship and hunting. 2017 dove season was going to be my sons first season. I had been out at the camp a few day prior getting ready for the start of another season and watch our farmer finish the corn harvest for the year. In the mornings and evenings I would go watch the fields to see where the dove were flying. I had the spot picked for opening morning, a field they had been dive bombing for the past two mornings. 

As the sunlight started to peak over the horizon and the pre-dawn darkness broke and God's wonderful creation came to life there were no dove. As we sat in anticipation of the birds that had been coming in for the last two days quickly drifted away much like the smoke I was expecting to see coming out the end of our barrels. As I sat there staring at an empty sky I could not believe what I was seeing or rather not seeing. In less than 12 hours their pattern had changed completely. Here today gone tomorrow. But to not be defeated we jumped in the side by sides and were off to find another field. 

After riding the farm for a little while we found another field with dove darting in and out of it. We setup on the north side of the field just under a power line in the tall grass on the edge of the field. Once we got the Mojo dove setup and got settled in our chairs the dove quickly came in. My son shot a box before he finally hit one. But the picture above captures the excitement of you first victory over a dove. This was not his first kill but it is one he and I will never forget. Besides killing dove that weekend I think he enjoyed just being a boy, on a farm with his dog, driving the side by side. 

- Patrick Grower
First Hunt                                                                                 June 14, 2018
It was Christmas morning 1986 and like any 7 year old boy I could hardly wait to see what Santa had brought me. I am  not sure what all I got that year but I do know one thing I did receive that year, a New England Firearms .410 and a few boxes of shells. I was beyond ecstatic. Growing up in Mississippi there was always a late dove season that was open during Christmas and my dad had planned to take me out after we finished opening presents and doing all things related to Christmas morning. After a run down of how the gun worked and we went over how to operate the hammer, both how to cock and fire as well as how to let the hammer down I was ready for the field or so my dad thought. 

So out to the back 30 acres of the old dairy farm my dad and I head. He sets me on a tree line just off the dirt road facing east and he sets up about 30 yards east of me on a outcropping of trees facing west with his Ithaca Feather Lite 12 gauge. I do not know how long we sat there but I know it was cold that morning for a 7 year old. I think I shot a few times at crossing birds not even coming close. But finally there was one time I did not shoot and had to let the hammer down. I did as I was instructed and pointed the gun to the ground, held the hammer with my thumb and slowly squeezed the trigger. Well I guess my cold little hands let off the trigger before it was all the way down and the gun discharged. In the excitement of it all and the cold I guess I had aimed the gun a little higher than the ground. The gun was pointed towards my dad at a downward angle but still managed to pepper pellets over to his feet. At the moment I look up and my dad is slowly picking up his chair and walking my way. Frightened thinking I had hurt him he calmly comes over and says "I think we are done today." That was the first and only time I ever hunted with my dad. While we shared golf as a passion when I was growing up I now wish I as I have grown older we could have shared hunting as I have gotten to with my son. 

- Patrick Grower