Reelfoot Thriller

Scratching out a high limit of six ducks here in east Tennessee has always been a challenge. But in recent years, I just haven't had one of those days. For the thrill of a "limit-type" day, one must go where the ducks are.

Reelfoot and I were introduced in the fall of 1971 when Art Swann, Ken Walker and I came to know one another as freshmen at the University of Tennessee at Martin. Its proximity to the campus made Reelfoot Lake a favored destination for those of us prone to leave, rather than return to, our dorm rooms at 4am.


Most years since 1971 I've returned for a weekend or two during duck season. As far as I'm concerned, they can rename the lake "Thrillfoot". The shear number of ducks I saw this past weekend made me smile, raised my blood pressure, and gave me tachycardia.

Our blind was on the world-famous "firing line" abutting the refuge. Over the course of the day on Sunday, I'd estimate we were able to fire upon 10 or more flocks of ducks. The smorgasbord of ducks included mallards, widgeons, jacks, bluebills, pintails, gadwalls, snow geese and Canada geese. To work into firing range that many flights for all in the blind to have a reasonable shot was quite an accomplishment considering we used no professional guides for our hunt.


Other than the last day of the season, daily hunting ceases on Reelfoot at 3pm. Flight after flight after flight left that refuge a little early on Sunday beginning about 2pm. Hardly any of those leaving for their evening meal were interested in the diversion we offered. The sight nevertheless stirred my hunter soul.

While there was no way to reasonably count how many birds we saw in that last hour, I know my mind was fully occupied watching it all. When birds cover one's entire perpherial vision, counting is the last thing on your mind. Rather, it is occupied with prayers of thanksgiving: thanks for eyes to see it and thanks for those who came before me with sense enough to preserve it so I could see it.