The Hex

Morris Whitfield loved to shoot Black Ducks. A lot of Atlantic Flyway hunters feel the Black Duck is the greatest prize. Growing up in the Mississippi Flyway, Black Ducks were a distant second to a Mallard. Hunters referred to them as Black Mallards because they were frequently mixed together in flocks. But everybody wanted to shoot the greenheads, so Black Ducks and hen Mallards were just something you settled for.

Whit had decent success on Black Ducks in his life. Once killed a pair that were both banded. That is nice. But as time went on, Morris began to believe that some sort of a hex was on him, because he quit killing Black Ducks. When we hunted out at Pamlico Point we frequently saw Black Ducks scattered along the river shore, especially on a northeast wind. Sort of strange because that wind made the water pretty rough along the shore, but the Black Ducks seemed to love it. They fed on some small crustaceans that grew along the shore, maybe the waves helped them to uncover more of the little morsels, but they were there in fairly good numbers.

So, when we were in the blinds and saw the Black Ducks working the shore, we would take turns trying to sneak up on them. Not always an easy task, but I had virtually 100% success at it. A couple times I even killed a pair and Morris thought that impossible to evade 2 sets of eyes and get close enough for a shot. Whit, on the other hand, came up empty each time it was his turn to sneak up on them. Once he even spooked a bird that was out of range and it flew right to the blind and my Dad killed it. I had Blacks pass by my end of the blind close enough for a shot and killed them regularly, but never on Whit's end of the blind.

One really terrible cold day we almost didn't hunt due to the severe weather. But we went out to try it. Right after daylight I killed a Black Duck that sailed into the decoys while Whit was getting his calls out of his gunning bag. He was astonished by that. But due to the severe weather I guess, later in the morning a flock of 7 Blacks came close by the decoys and landed near the shore and swam back into a little pocket in the grass where we sometimes hid the boat. Morris confidently snuck down there and walked right up on top of them. On his 3rd shot he barely wing-tipped a bird and spent an hour out in Mouse Harbor in 8 degree weather and 20 mph winds searching for it. He finally got the bird, but frostbit his hands out there searching. His luck was bad.

Some time after that we were hunting a private impoundment early in the season. Nothing was moving, but a single Black Duck circled around the marsh and landed a couple hundred yards from us. I told Whit he ought to go jump it and kill it. Almost as a joke he went after it. Oddly enough he was able to sneak up on it and kill the bird. He was elated and when he got back with the bird he proclaimed that now the "Hex" was on me. His skill at stalking that bird had redeemed him and now it was me that was going to suffer. Whatever.

The following morning we were set up in Boar Creek, mostly shooting Teal. Had a decent morning and after the birds pretty much quit flying we were just standing there having a smoke and enjoying the morning. From behind Morris I saw a pair of Black Ducks coming our way. I just stood there not making a move until they were right on us. I pulled up and shot a nice double, dropping the birds almost on top of us. As soon as Whit reached to pick up one of the birds and saw what they were, I asked him what it was he had said the afternoon before about the "Hex" being on me. He just grabbed his gear and went back to the boat. I guess once you get a "Hex" on you it is hard to shake it off. Morris never did. I never knew of him to kill another Black Duck even though I shot them regularly the entire time we hunted together.