A Duck Hunter was Born!

My college roommate and close friend, Larry, invited me to go duck hunting at the Edgewater Park break wall in Cleveland. I had heard his stories and the passion in describing the various Lake Erie waterfowl hunts. I always enjoyed hunting and couldn't wait to go!

My Dad gave me an old olive drab army parka that smelled like moth balls. It was as heavy as a bag of cork decoys, but it was fur lined and warm as toast. I already owned a pair of wool socks. I bought a pair of heavy camouflage gloves and a brown "duck hat". I had a model 37 Ithaca 12 gauge pump that I used for squirrel and pheasant hunting, and a couple of boxes of "high brass" number 6 shells. My friend said that would work just fine.

I should mention that these were days before steel shot, Gortex, Thinsulate, and Thermax, etc.  

I arrived at his house at 3:30 AM. I was so excited that I could hardly contain myself. Larry gave me duck calling lessons in the truck on the way to the lake. At the conclusion of my first lesson, he informed me that I was not to call at any ducks under any circumstances. He added, if anybody asks who taught you how to call, not to mention his name! Good natured ribbing of course, and yes I sounded like a sink donkey with whooping cough! He failed to mention the fact that we didn't need to call to diving ducks. 

We arrived at his Dad's business at 4:30 in the morning. The first thing I noticed was the unmistakable smell of cut wood mixed with the pungent odor of dead fish. Larry’s father had a tree business and we were right next to a channel that connected us to the Cuyahoga River. It was dark and noisy from the sound of heavy equipment at the distant loading docks. We had work to do. We needed to get the boat on a trailer and get it to the water's edge. Decoy bags, line, spreader, and a box of decoy anchors had to be rounded up. Next we had to get the motor and gas tank in the boat. You may imagine my surprise when I saw "the boat". It was a 12 foot row boat! It was smaller than the boat my Dad and brother and I used to troll for walleyes on Lake Milton. Well, OK I thought with blind faith, how bad could it be?

That was a question that I should never have asked! Soon, we were in the little dingy headed out the slip for the lake. I nearly choked as I got a face full of smoke from a tug boat heading up river. I did not realize how big tug boats really were! It made our boat look even smaller, if that were possible. Almost as soon as we hit the river we felt the boat rise up and down as the swells were forcing their way upstream from the lake. Within minutes I saw a railroad trestle. As we approached the bridge, Larry yelled out "I am going to yell duck and gun the motor. When I do, keep your head down!" As he finished talking we were on the crest of a wave. Any sane person could clearly see that this boat, or any other boat for that matter, was not going to fit under that trestle! Just then, as we were dropping down into the trough of the next wave, he yelled something and gunned the motor! The boat went surging under the bridge. As we were coming out from under it on the other side, I realized how close this was going to be! I practically laid down in the bottom of the boat to keep from being smashed as the boat rose with the next wave! "Had it all the way, buddy!" my friend chuckled. It was about then that I sized up the waves and realized that when in a trough, I could not see anything but smelly lake water! When the boat reached the next crest my heart stopped! What a gruesome sight! We could see the city lights from Cleveland as they illuminated the break wall, the loading docks and rocks on either side. But straight ahead looked like DEATH itself! It was pitch black! It looked like the world ended just beyond the break wall. NO light, no stars, nothing, and to make matters worse when I looked up I could see the blackest clouds ever.  I was sure we were in serious trouble! What were we doing here? With the gap in the break wall lying straight ahead, it looked like we were going right into the jaws of Hell!

As if all this wasn't bad enough, the motor sputtered and stopped. The waves were pushing us back into the rocks.  "ROW, MAN, ROW! “ Larry screamed at the top of his lungs. I grabbed the oars and started rowing white knuckled with every ounce of strength I could muster. At the same time, Larry was pulling the rope on that motor like his life depended on it! I could not make any headway. I began to pray. Just as the boat was about to be smashed into the rocks, the motor started and we darted ahead. We moved barely enough that the next wave failed to throw us against the pier! Just made it by the skin of out teeth.

We were on our way again. I sheepishly asked if we should turn around. My friend asked with the greatest sincerity, "Do you REALLY want me to try to turn this boat around in these waves?" My silence was his answer. "Our best chance is to get behind that wall and wait out this storm!" 

It seemed like forever, but we made it to the wall. As we approached, we decided that since we were out there, we may as well hunt. One problem, neither one of us put the box of decoy anchors in the boat! That mistake was second only to getting in the boat in the first place! We tied off and got up on the wall. Larry tried to cheer me up by telling me that we would probably get some pass shooting. We were right on the end of the west wall, and birds did fly by. However, there were not many in range. The guys down the wall a couple of hundred yards got some good shooting. I wandered down that way to ask for a light for my hand warmer. After sharing the horror story of our trip out, they were gracious enough to invite us to hunt with them. 

Nearly an hour later, three birds cupped in and my fellow hunters dropped all three. Larry quickly volunteered to go out with the boat owner and retrieve the birds. While the two of them were out, a flock of 20 "blue bills" came screaming into the spread. The other host yelled "take'em". I shot my first two ducks, and I was HOOKED! A duck hunter was born!