WaterfowlForum.Net

How did all you guys get started in waterfowling?

I didn't get started until after I joined the CG about 7 years ago. I was invited to go with some co workers at my first duty station in Texas. Went a whole bunch that first season then spent a year in CA and as soon as I moved to MI I picked it up hardcore. I was hooked my first time.

I grew up hunting with my Dad.

Went hunting with a buddy and his dad when I was 10. It was a cold but fun morning.

I got myself into it. At around 14 I got a Mossberg 500 AT for my birthday, my dad had done some pheasant hunting when he was a kid, so I started bugging him to chase the roosters. After that I wanted to kill ducks but he had no interest or experience. He and my grandpa did however like to go fishing on the lake in the fall, the spot they usually went to was adjacent to a marsh. My brother and I would go fishing with them at daybreak and jump out of the truck at the first edge of the marsh. They would go about 2 miles down the dirt road to fish and my brother and I would walk the edge of the marsh and shoot anything we could sneek on. We had 1 pair of rubber hip waders between us and would take turns walking out into the marsh to check the pockets in the tules. Once we made it down to the fishing spot we were stuck with them for the rest of the day. Guns still loaded, hoping a diver would cruise past.
After that every b-day and Christmas wishlist was for shells, decoys, waders and calls. Once I had a driver's license it was downhill from there.

3legged_lab wrote:I got myself into it. At around 14 I got a Mossberg 500 AT for my birthday, my dad had done some pheasant hunting when he was a kid, so I started bugging him to chase the roosters. After that I wanted to kill ducks but he had no interest or experience. He and my grandpa did however like to go fishing on the lake in the fall, the spot they usually went to was adjacent to a marsh. My brother and I would go fishing with them at daybreak and jump out of the truck at the first edge of the marsh. They would go about 2 miles down the dirt road to fish and my brother and I would walk the edge of the marsh and shoot anything we could sneek on. We had 1 pair of rubber hip waders between us and would take turns walking out into the marsh to check the pockets in the tules. Once we made it down to the fishing spot we were stuck with them for the rest of the day. Guns still loaded, hoping a diver would cruise past.
After that every b-day and Christmas wishlist was for shells, decoys, waders and calls. Once I had a driver's license it was downhill from there.

Why was it downhill?

R. Chapman wrote:

3legged_lab wrote:I got myself into it. At around 14 I got a Mossberg 500 AT for my birthday, my dad had done some pheasant hunting when he was a kid, so I started bugging him to chase the roosters. After that I wanted to kill ducks but he had no interest or experience. He and my grandpa did however like to go fishing on the lake in the fall, the spot they usually went to was adjacent to a marsh. My brother and I would go fishing with them at daybreak and jump out of the truck at the first edge of the marsh. They would go about 2 miles down the dirt road to fish and my brother and I would walk the edge of the marsh and shoot anything we could sneek on. We had 1 pair of rubber hip waders between us and would take turns walking out into the marsh to check the pockets in the tules. Once we made it down to the fishing spot we were stuck with them for the rest of the day. Guns still loaded, hoping a diver would cruise past.
After that every b-day and Christmas wishlist was for shells, decoys, waders and calls. Once I had a driver's license it was downhill from there.

Why was it downhill?

So cool

Bootlipkiller wrote:

R. Chapman wrote:

3legged_lab wrote:I got myself into it. At around 14 I got a Mossberg 500 AT for my birthday, my dad had done some pheasant hunting when he was a kid, so I started bugging him to chase the roosters. After that I wanted to kill ducks but he had no interest or experience. He and my grandpa did however like to go fishing on the lake in the fall, the spot they usually went to was adjacent to a marsh. My brother and I would go fishing with them at daybreak and jump out of the truck at the first edge of the marsh. They would go about 2 miles down the dirt road to fish and my brother and I would walk the edge of the marsh and shoot anything we could sneek on. We had 1 pair of rubber hip waders between us and would take turns walking out into the marsh to check the pockets in the tules. Once we made it down to the fishing spot we were stuck with them for the rest of the day. Guns still loaded, hoping a diver would cruise past.
After that every b-day and Christmas wishlist was for shells, decoys, waders and calls. Once I had a driver's license it was downhill from there.

Why was it downhill?

So cool

Didn't know you were that old to be using old slang terms from like 2 months ago. Damn.

Because I've dumped thousands of dollars, neglected my family and job, and spent hundreds of hours in the freezing cold talking to myself or my dog.
Its a good thing Rex.

3legged_lab wrote:Because I've dumped thousands of dollars, neglected my family and job, and spent hundreds of hours in the freezing cold talking to myself or my dog.
Its a good thing Rex.

At that point pretty much right now.

Family was always into wingshooting for generations. When my dad and uncle moved to states they picked up right where they left off. With my birthday being in October. I was at Gray lodge in the motor home on opening day of the same month. Pops started taking me out for afternoon hunts when I was 3. By the time I was 4 he was packing me on his back in the mornings. Walking on a levee in the pitch black, hearing thousands of ducks jumping off the ponds was addictive. Then after a couple mile walk we'd dump off into a pond. One of my first memories was being knee high at the Gray lodge check station 2 hours before check in with a few hundred guys all dressed in camo. I was kinda scared and excited all at the same time. I loved it right from the beginning. Always hearing the old timers talk about the "good old days" was a blast. I still enjoying hearing the story's. I really think that's part of why I love it so much and get out as much as I can. Constantly trying catch a day like it was back then. I can truly say waterfowling to me is much more then a hobby or a pass time. My life and year revolves around it. It's takin me to work on refuge set up days, duck clubs, and a professional outfitter. Constantly trying to get better at it and learn new things... I know I'm over passionate about this. But seriously ducks and geese are fucking aweosome!!!

I grew up pheasant hunting with my grandpa in East Central Illinois. There were a lot of birds for a long time around there. As his health dwindled, so did the pheasant population. I loved bird hunting, so I turned to waterfowl.

Like tripod, it was downhill from there.

I hate ducks. I hate the way they look. I hate the way they sound. I hate how they can fly and swim. I'm going to kill them all. They do taste pretty good though.

:lol: nice Joel.

GadwallGetter530 wrote:Family was always into wingshooting for generations. When my dad and uncle moved to states they picked up right where they left off. With my birthday being in October. I was at Gray lodge in the motor home on opening day of the same month. Pops started taking me out for afternoon hunts when I was 3. By the time I was 4 he was packing me on his back in the mornings. Walking on a levee in the pitch black, hearing thousands of ducks jumping off the ponds was addictive. Then after a couple mile walk we'd dump off into a pond. One of my first memories was being knee high at the Gray lodge check station 2 hours before check in with a few hundred guys all dressed in camo. I was kinda scared and excited all at the same time. I loved it right from the beginning. Always hearing the old timers talk about the "good old days" was a blast. I still enjoying hearing the story's. I really think that's part of why I love it so much and get out as much as I can. Constantly trying catch a day like it was back then. I can truly say waterfowling to me is much more then a hobby or a pass time. My life and year revolves around it. It's takin me to work on refuge set up days, duck clubs, and a professional outfitter. Constantly trying to get better at it and learn new things... I know I'm over passionate about this. But seriously ducks and geese are fucking aweosome!!!

Are you going to hire Morgan Freeman to read this someday

GadwallGetter530 wrote::lol::lol: nice Joel.

Wrong answer? I'll try again. I'll be back in a few.

Bootlipkiller wrote:

GadwallGetter530 wrote:Family was always into wingshooting for generations. When my dad and uncle moved to states they picked up right where they left off. With my birthday being in October. I was at Gray lodge in the motor home on opening day of the same month. Pops started taking me out for afternoon hunts when I was 3. By the time I was 4 he was packing me on his back in the mornings. Walking on a levee in the pitch black, hearing thousands of ducks jumping off the ponds was addictive. Then after a couple mile walk we'd dump off into a pond. One of my first memories was being knee high at the Gray lodge check station 2 hours before check in with a few hundred guys all dressed in camo. I was kinda scared and excited all at the same time. I loved it right from the beginning. Always hearing the old timers talk about the "good old days" was a blast. I still enjoying hearing the story's. I really think that's part of why I love it so much and get out as much as I can. Constantly trying catch a day like it was back then. I can truly say waterfowling to me is much more then a hobby or a pass time. My life and year revolves around it. It's takin me to work on refuge set up days, duck clubs, and a professional outfitter. Constantly trying to get better at it and learn new things... I know I'm over passionate about this. But seriously ducks and geese are fucking aweosome!!!

Are you going to hire Morgan Freeman to read this someday

or have a Miss America contestant with streaking mascara read it...

Bootlipkiller wrote:

GadwallGetter530 wrote:Family was always into wingshooting for generations. When my dad and uncle moved to states they picked up right where they left off. With my birthday being in October. I was at Gray lodge in the motor home on opening day of the same month. Pops started taking me out for afternoon hunts when I was 3. By the time I was 4 he was packing me on his back in the mornings. Walking on a levee in the pitch black, hearing thousands of ducks jumping off the ponds was addictive. Then after a couple mile walk we'd dump off into a pond. One of my first memories was being knee high at the Gray lodge check station 2 hours before check in with a few hundred guys all dressed in camo. I was kinda scared and excited all at the same time. I loved it right from the beginning. Always hearing the old timers talk about the "good old days" was a blast. I still enjoying hearing the story's. I really think that's part of why I love it so much and get out as much as I can. Constantly trying catch a day like it was back then. I can truly say waterfowling to me is much more then a hobby or a pass time. My life and year revolves around it. It's takin me to work on refuge set up days, duck clubs, and a professional outfitter. Constantly trying to get better at it and learn new things... I know I'm over passionate about this. But seriously ducks and geese are fucking aweosome!!!

Are you going to hire Morgan Freeman to read this someday

You should have a similar wright up about you and your Grampa striper fishing.

AKPirate wrote:

Bootlipkiller wrote:

GadwallGetter530 wrote:Family was always into wingshooting for generations. When my dad and uncle moved to states they picked up right where they left off. With my birthday being in October. I was at Gray lodge in the motor home on opening day of the same month. Pops started taking me out for afternoon hunts when I was 3. By the time I was 4 he was packing me on his back in the mornings. Walking on a levee in the pitch black, hearing thousands of ducks jumping off the ponds was addictive. Then after a couple mile walk we'd dump off into a pond. One of my first memories was being knee high at the Gray lodge check station 2 hours before check in with a few hundred guys all dressed in camo. I was kinda scared and excited all at the same time. I loved it right from the beginning. Always hearing the old timers talk about the "good old days" was a blast. I still enjoying hearing the story's. I really think that's part of why I love it so much and get out as much as I can. Constantly trying catch a day like it was back then. I can truly say waterfowling to me is much more then a hobby or a pass time. My life and year revolves around it. It's takin me to work on refuge set up days, duck clubs, and a professional outfitter. Constantly trying to get better at it and learn new things... I know I'm over passionate about this. But seriously ducks and geese are fucking aweosome!!!

Are you going to hire Morgan Freeman to read this someday

or have a Miss America contestant with streaking mascara read it...

This is the last time I try and share.

GadwallGetter530 wrote:

AKPirate wrote:

Bootlipkiller wrote:

GadwallGetter530 wrote:Family was always into wingshooting for generations. When my dad and uncle moved to states they picked up right where they left off. With my birthday being in October. I was at Gray lodge in the motor home on opening day of the same month. Pops started taking me out for afternoon hunts when I was 3. By the time I was 4 he was packing me on his back in the mornings. Walking on a levee in the pitch black, hearing thousands of ducks jumping off the ponds was addictive. Then after a couple mile walk we'd dump off into a pond. One of my first memories was being knee high at the Gray lodge check station 2 hours before check in with a few hundred guys all dressed in camo. I was kinda scared and excited all at the same time. I loved it right from the beginning. Always hearing the old timers talk about the "good old days" was a blast. I still enjoying hearing the story's. I really think that's part of why I love it so much and get out as much as I can. Constantly trying catch a day like it was back then. I can truly say waterfowling to me is much more then a hobby or a pass time. My life and year revolves around it. It's takin me to work on refuge set up days, duck clubs, and a professional outfitter. Constantly trying to get better at it and learn new things... I know I'm over passionate about this. But seriously ducks and geese are fucking aweosome!!!

Are you going to hire Morgan Freeman to read this someday

or have a Miss America contestant with streaking mascara read it...

This is the last time I try and share.

TY

AKPirate wrote:

GadwallGetter530 wrote:

AKPirate wrote:

Bootlipkiller wrote:

GadwallGetter530 wrote:Family was always into wingshooting for generations. When my dad and uncle moved to states they picked up right where they left off. With my birthday being in October. I was at Gray lodge in the motor home on opening day of the same month. Pops started taking me out for afternoon hunts when I was 3. By the time I was 4 he was packing me on his back in the mornings. Walking on a levee in the pitch black, hearing thousands of ducks jumping off the ponds was addictive. Then after a couple mile walk we'd dump off into a pond. One of my first memories was being knee high at the Gray lodge check station 2 hours before check in with a few hundred guys all dressed in camo. I was kinda scared and excited all at the same time. I loved it right from the beginning. Always hearing the old timers talk about the "good old days" was a blast. I still enjoying hearing the story's. I really think that's part of why I love it so much and get out as much as I can. Constantly trying catch a day like it was back then. I can truly say waterfowling to me is much more then a hobby or a pass time. My life and year revolves around it. It's takin me to work on refuge set up days, duck clubs, and a professional outfitter. Constantly trying to get better at it and learn new things... I know I'm over passionate about this. But seriously ducks and geese are fucking aweosome!!!

Are you going to hire Morgan Freeman to read this someday

or have a Miss America contestant with streaking mascara read it...

This is the last time I try and share.

TY

:lol:

Bootlipkiller wrote:

GadwallGetter530 wrote:Family was always into wingshooting for generations. When my dad and uncle moved to states they picked up right where they left off. With my birthday being in October. I was at Gray lodge in the motor home on opening day of the same month. Pops started taking me out for afternoon hunts when I was 3. By the time I was 4 he was packing me on his back in the mornings. Walking on a levee in the pitch black, hearing thousands of ducks jumping off the ponds was addictive. Then after a couple mile walk we'd dump off into a pond. One of my first memories was being knee high at the Gray lodge check station 2 hours before check in with a few hundred guys all dressed in camo. I was kinda scared and excited all at the same time. I loved it right from the beginning. Always hearing the old timers talk about the "good old days" was a blast. I still enjoying hearing the story's. I really think that's part of why I love it so much and get out as much as I can. Constantly trying catch a day like it was back then. I can truly say waterfowling to me is much more then a hobby or a pass time. My life and year revolves around it. It's takin me to work on refuge set up days, duck clubs, and a professional outfitter. Constantly trying to get better at it and learn new things... I know I'm over passionate about this. But seriously ducks and geese are fucking aweosome!!!

Are you going to hire Morgan Freeman to read this someday

I picture it in the "Rudy ducks have a 9" corkscrew penis" narrator voice.

Tiler_J wrote:

GadwallGetter530 wrote::lol::lol: nice Joel.

Wrong answer? I'll try again. I'll be back in a few.

I liked it.

GadwallGetter530 wrote:

AKPirate wrote:

Bootlipkiller wrote:

GadwallGetter530 wrote:Family was always into wingshooting for generations. When my dad and uncle moved to states they picked up right where they left off. With my birthday being in October. I was at Gray lodge in the motor home on opening day of the same month. Pops started taking me out for afternoon hunts when I was 3. By the time I was 4 he was packing me on his back in the mornings. Walking on a levee in the pitch black, hearing thousands of ducks jumping off the ponds was addictive. Then after a couple mile walk we'd dump off into a pond. One of my first memories was being knee high at the Gray lodge check station 2 hours before check in with a few hundred guys all dressed in camo. I was kinda scared and excited all at the same time. I loved it right from the beginning. Always hearing the old timers talk about the "good old days" was a blast. I still enjoying hearing the story's. I really think that's part of why I love it so much and get out as much as I can. Constantly trying catch a day like it was back then. I can truly say waterfowling to me is much more then a hobby or a pass time. My life and year revolves around it. It's takin me to work on refuge set up days, duck clubs, and a professional outfitter. Constantly trying to get better at it and learn new things... I know I'm over passionate about this. But seriously ducks and geese are fucking aweosome!!!

Are you going to hire Morgan Freeman to read this someday

or have a Miss America contestant with streaking mascara read it...

This is the last time I try and share.

I liked it, Gaddy. It's a crazy addiction.

Back when I was but a wee-lad, my father took me on my first waterfowl hunt. I was 6 month old, as I recall, and my father drug me 7 miles through the marsh in a burlap sack. Life was rough back then, my family were poor imigrant potato pickers, so it was either shoot a few ducks or eat more damn potatoes. There are only so many ways you can cook a potato before you just can't take it anymore. I remember it was cold in the sack and I could hear what sounded like millions of ducks flying off the ponds. I'll never forget that sound, it sounded just like millions of ducks flying off the ponds. Finally we were there, the spot my father had stashed his whiskey. It was a slow morning, the fog rolled in thick and deep. My father gazed into the morning gloom, turned to me and said, " Fuck the limits! The wardens aren't going to see shit in this!" At that point on, anything that appeared out of the fog was fair game. We shot quite a few ducks, a couple geese, and even a few hawks. I shot my first duck that day and made 40 or 50 retrieves. I only lost a few. My dad was so proud, he let me ride in the truck on the way home. Memories.

Feelin' Fowl wrote:

GadwallGetter530 wrote:

AKPirate wrote:

Bootlipkiller wrote:

GadwallGetter530 wrote:Family was always into wingshooting for generations. When my dad and uncle moved to states they picked up right where they left off. With my birthday being in October. I was at Gray lodge in the motor home on opening day of the same month. Pops started taking me out for afternoon hunts when I was 3. By the time I was 4 he was packing me on his back in the mornings. Walking on a levee in the pitch black, hearing thousands of ducks jumping off the ponds was addictive. Then after a couple mile walk we'd dump off into a pond. One of my first memories was being knee high at the Gray lodge check station 2 hours before check in with a few hundred guys all dressed in camo. I was kinda scared and excited all at the same time. I loved it right from the beginning. Always hearing the old timers talk about the "good old days" was a blast. I still enjoying hearing the story's. I really think that's part of why I love it so much and get out as much as I can. Constantly trying catch a day like it was back then. I can truly say waterfowling to me is much more then a hobby or a pass time. My life and year revolves around it. It's takin me to work on refuge set up days, duck clubs, and a professional outfitter. Constantly trying to get better at it and learn new things... I know I'm over passionate about this. But seriously ducks and geese are fucking aweosome!!!

Are you going to hire Morgan Freeman to read this someday

or have a Miss America contestant with streaking mascara read it...

This is the last time I try and share.

I liked it, Gaddy. It's a crazy addiction.

Fuck you FF. I don't need your validation. :lol::lol::lol::lol:

Just kidding buddy. Thanks:mrgreen:

Pretty awesome that your dad brought you in like that. Take care of that man!

Tiler_J wrote:Back when I was but a wee-lad, my father took me on my first waterfowl hunt. I was 6 month old, as I recall, and my father drug me 7 miles through the marsh in a burlap sack. Life was rough back then, my family were poor imigrant potato pickers, so it was either shoot a few ducks or eat more damn potatoes. There are only so many ways you can cook a potato before you just can't take it anymore. I remember it was cold in the sack and I could hear what sounded like millions of ducks flying off the ponds. I'll never forget that sound, it sounded just like millions of ducks flying off the ponds. Finally we were there, the spot my father had stashed his whiskey. It was a slow morning, the fog rolled in thick and deep. My father gazed into the morning gloom, turned to me and said, " Fuck the limits! The wardens aren't going to see shit in this!" At that point on, anything that appeared out of the fog was fair game. We shot quite a few ducks, a couple geese, and even a few hawks. I shot my first duck that day and made 40 or 50 retrieves. I only lost a few. My dad was so proud, he let me ride in the truck on the way home. Memories.

Bwahahahahaha

Tiler_J wrote:Back when I was but a wee-lad, my father took me on my first waterfowl hunt. I was 6 month old, as I recall, and my father drug me 7 miles through the marsh in a burlap sack. Life was rough back then, my family were poor imigrant potato pickers, so it was either shoot a few ducks or eat more damn potatoes. There are only so many ways you can cook a potato before you just can't take it anymore. I remember it was cold in the sack and I could hear what sounded like millions of ducks flying off the ponds. I'll never forget that sound, it sounded just like millions of ducks flying off the ponds. Finally we were there, the spot my father had stashed his whiskey. It was a slow morning, the fog rolled in thick and deep. My father gazed into the morning gloom, turned to me and said, " Fuck the limits! The wardens aren't going to see shit in this!" At that point on, anything that appeared out of the fog was fair game. We shot quite a few ducks, a couple geese, and even a few hawks. I shot my first duck that day and made 40 or 50 retrieves. I only lost a few. My dad was so proud, he let me ride in the truck on the way home. Memories.

Hahahaha I seriously lol'ed and had to explains to my wife why

Lovely story thanks for sharing.