September 17, 2006

ROCKPORT - The pre-dawn clang of a brass clapper reverberated through the narrow halls of Port Bay Hunting & Fishing Club this past Saturday, announcing another season opener.

Behind the doors of the club's sleeping quarters, drowsy hunters stretched into boots and camo as they have done during nearly 100 previous seasons. Beyond fogged-up dormitory windows, the eager voices of a half dozen retrievers sounded a second alarm, while pancakes and bacon sizzled inside a fluorescent-bright kitchen.

And lightning flickered over Copano Bay.

This orchestrated awakening of the historic compound was understated compared with the commotion its members expect in November. For this was only teal season, the waterfowling equivalent of an appetizer before the entree. Steak would come with the opening of regular duck season in South Texas on Nov 4. Meanwhile, the state's 42nd teal season runs through Sept. 24.

Little has changed within this remote 180-acre complex since it was built west of Rockport. Some of its buildings suffered the irreparable ravages of hurricanes, but the basic layout of Texas' oldest continuously operating hunting and fishing club is similar to what founder Andrew Sorenson created in 1909 on this marshy shoreline known as Old Kemp Place.

The operation began as a public resort for sportsmen, but later was incorporated into a private club for 100 members willing to pay $150 for a share in an exclusive getaway.

According to the club's Web site, members came from Texas and far beyond, including New York, Chicago, St. Louis, Cincinnati and Atlanta. Among Port Bay's distinguished charter members is former Wisconsin governor G.W. Peck. The families of many politicians, sports figures, dignitaries and regular guys would follow.

A faded sign hangs in club manager Jeff Kucera's office, reminding members of an earlier time at Port Bay. The fee for a morning hunt - two men, one boat and a single guide - ran $4 for each hunter in the 1920s. One man, one boat and a guide cost $5.

Today, members pay $50 for a morning guided hunt; $80 for a morning/evening hunt. Instead of the $100 buy-in fee, today's members pay an initial fee plus $2,700 annually. There are a couple of membership openings if you're interested.

When the club was new, managers had no trouble recruiting local youngsters to serve as guide boys for hunts. The work was difficult and the hours were long, but employment at Port Bay provided prestige and an opportunity to hunt for pay. At minimum, they had to know how to run a boat, repair stuff and identify birds. The guide boys who lasted were polite, punctual and personable. And they were required to demonstrate good character and enthusiasm for the outdoors.

Room and board was part of their pay.

All of this remains true today, Kucera tells me. Many guide boys still start before they legally can drive. With desire, their guide-boy careers generally last about four years if they qualify and if schoolwork doesn't interfere. Many in recent years have been college kids studying wildlife management, biology or similar curricula.

Kyle Ledet, our guide on Saturday, fits the Port Bay standard. The same could be said about the two young hunters I shared a blind with that morning, Amber and Autumn Waska.

The sisters are second generation soon-to-be members. Their father, former Houston federal prosecutor Ronald Waska, introduced his daughters to wingshooting around the time each was in kindergarten. It's obvious by their enthusiasm that they enjoy the scent of gunpowder in the morning, and the performance of a good retriever.

Both young women displayed shooting skills above those of the average duck hunter. This is no accident. Amber competed with the Texas Christian University rifle team and Autumn was recruited to shoot with the team at her college, Ole Miss, though her schedule hasn't allow her to join.

At breakfast, we drew numbers to see who would hunt where. We drew a freshwater marsh blind minutes from camp. In addition to the surrounding shoreline, Port Bay leases about 500 acres of marsh, and its blinds are spread over 25 square miles of bay.

We drove on slick levees to our blind, but many hunters continue to use skiffs powered by small outboards to reach bay blinds. For faraway blinds, the club has a big boat for towing skiffs and hunters to their hunt spots. The club has rejected the use of airboats to maintain serenity and tradition.

The first flight of bluewings arrived before we were set. By the time shotguns were loaded, an earlier squall had eased into drizzle. Heavy clouds delayed good visibility until well past shooting time. You might think this provided a hunter's advantage, and usually you'd be right. But while overcast skies helped blend us into the brush, raindrops also blurred the approach of fleet-winged ducks through speckled lenses.

That's my excuse.

My partners didn't need an excuse.

And fortunately, the drizzle evolved into a glorious hunt. Good luck with that banded sprig this season, Autumn.

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