January 8, 2006

HOLIDAY BEACH - Advantage in hunting is an elusive element, even with today's innovations. And with duck hunting in the Coastal Bend, little has changed during the past century. I like that.

Consider Port Bay Hunting and Fishing Club - established in 1908 as a non-profit getaway for civic leaders from faraway places - where guides once rowed members into bay-brush blinds in wooden skiffs. Later, sailboats towed these skiffs to hunt sites for a quicker, more comfortable and safer commute to their blinds.

Membership at the club near Rockport is still set at 100, and the locations of many blinds remain tucked away in the exact spot they were set 98 years ago.

Today, some members still choose to shoot from skiffs powered by 8-hp outboards and shrouded in bay brush. But during rough weather, the towboat is a 37-foot shrimp trawler converted for convenience. They still don't use airboats, for a quieter, calmer experience.

And during late-season hunts, when birds become shy, guides remain true to old traditions, abandoning the boxy blinds for marshy haunts and open-bay spoils. They must be mobile, not only to chase changing flight and feeding patterns but also to counter winter's skinny tides. So they sit on buckets and float fewer decoys to attract wary survivor ducks.

This was effective then and it's effective today, said Port Bay Club manager Jeff Kucera.

"We like it the old-fashioned way," Kucera said. "And we still use some wooden decoys."

Oh, stories those glass-eyed birds could tell.

Without vintage carved decoys and with only one modern innovation, Chris Fortin and I set out recently on a late-season duck hunt. There would be no permanent blind for us. Reports of scattered birds and open-bay rafts of ducks had told us it was time to downsize.

When to switch strategies in duck hunting is not a difficult decision, because there is no penalty for leaving the blind behind unless you count the breach in comfort.

And even this is not much of a sacrifice. Going from a hard, dry, wood floor to a slightly softer sandy floor really is no sacrifice at all. And even if you do consider it so, sacrifice usually yields rewards.

Fortin broke off several bay brush branches and planted them in a circle big enough for a dog and two hunters near the end of a chordgrass point extending into northern Copano Bay. Then he scattered about two dozen decoys into two groups separated by 15 or 20 feet of open bay.

I have trouble remaining still while duck hunting. So I sat on a milk crate we had brought. Fortin and his Lab, Jazz, squatted to my right. Skies were overcast, and winds were moderate.

It's important during December and January hunts to watch closely how birds react to your setup. Even if you're properly concealed, something as subtle as the arrangement of a decoy spread could cause birds to flair from your position.

Trouble is, there is no ideal decoy configuration for any given circumstance. From a variety of sources, I've concluded that on general rules apply to late-season spreads. Most winter spreads I've seen sport two dozen or fewer floaters, not too tight, not too loose, with an opening within shooting range.

On calm days, make at least one decoy wiggle, flap, vibrate or otherwise appear more lifelike, employing whatever primitive or electric method your ethics and/or budget would allow. A hand-held string tied to the leash of a single deek might do the trick.

This was not necessary during our hunt.

Not long after the three of us settled in, a group of shovelers swooped in from my left, completely fooled. And then they left, completely healthy. We watched them, with our shotguns completely empty.

Thankfully, an adequate number of additional opportunities ended somewhat differently - although Jazz did not appear to fully appreciate our efforts with the emotion indicated by her name.

As the sun rose and clouds parted, the reaction of birds switched from oblivious to avoidance. We could have searched for a different location, one more remote with dense cover. And that's not a bad idea.

For several weeks, Fortin has been parking his boat near the mouth of a slough and slogging his way into chest-high vegetation. It's a different world in the marsh that fringes Copano Bay. Pockets of clear water invite late-season ducks, mostly undisturbed.

Tucked in the grassy fringes of one of these ponds - some of them merely 20 feet across - is the closest many of us will come to hunting flooded timber. Puddle ducks and divers descend into these ponds like mallards would in an Arkansas mud puddle. A couple weeks ago, Fortin even bagged a wood duck this way.

This is not for everyone. Short legs and big bellies? Forget about it. But a camouflaged kayak might get you there.

But without a doubt, the most convenient late-season success comes on the shore of a spoil island. If you don't have a boat, then try those stretches of shorelines on either side of Highway 361 between the Port Aransas ferry and Aransas Pass. Make sure you're outside the limits of a city.

And if you find a worthy spot, I'd recommend crawling into either a makeshift blind or any variety of coffin-shaped portable blinds. Avery Outdoors (averyoutdoors.com) makes a simple one called the Power Hunter. It weighs about 10 pounds, with a hinged see-through flip-top and a padded backrest.

And it folds into a compact square that carries like a backpack. Other models from Avery provide more inner space and more features, but the basic Power Hunter worked well for us. Our shotguns, on the other hand, need some tweaking.

Outdoors writer David Sikes' column appears Thursdays and Sundays. Contact him at 886-3616 or sikesd@ caller.com