Mallard Drake

The first wild duck that I ever saw killed was a Mallard drake.  Dad shot it on the North Fork of the Licking River back home in Kentucky.  I think all the rest of the ducks that he killed in Kentucky, when I was allowed to tag along, were Black Mallards, as he called them back then.  He killed plenty of Mallards, but not when I was with him.

After we moved to Ohio, and started hunting at Indian Lake, Wood Ducks made up a high percentage of his bag.  Mostly due to where he hunted on the lake.  As soon as he got a blind on the open water, we shot a pretty good variety of ducks.  Unfortunately, I didn't seem to get any shooting on Mallards. I think it was my second season of hunting our blind on Hermit Island when a nice little flock of Mallards sailed into the decoys about 10 minutes before quitting time.  I was in the middle of the blind between Dad and Harry Fleming.  The ducks decoyed beautifully.  The sun was behind us, shining brightly on the ducks, so I could clearly pick out the drakes and hens.  There was a drake to the left, a drake to the right, and five hens in the middle.  Dad doubled, Harry got the drake on the right and I killed a hen.  It was so bittersweet.  I had finally gotten a Mallard, but a hen.  The big Greenhead still eluded me.

By the following year, my shooting was getting a lot better.  The first day I got to hunt I got a double on Wood Ducks, one of them was banded.  An hour later, I killed a banded BW Teal.  My season was off to a good start.  Then Dad killed a banded Mallard Drake.  Huh, there it was again.  Dad even started joking with me, calling me "the hen man".  I killed two Mallards that season, but both were hens.  The following year I finally got my Mallard drake, but one of my Dad's friends took credit for it.  The next year, I killed my first Canada Goose, and about 7-8 new species, and a few Mallard hens.

By the following year, I had shot so many pigeons, crows, doves, and Coot that I was a pretty darn good wing shot.  I decided that there would be no more of Dad's buddies claiming my ducks.  First day that I got to hunt that year,  I killed a drake Mallard early in the morning, and killed a double on them later that afternoon.  The next day I doubled twice on Mallard drakes.  A couple weeks later, over on a different lake, I jumped some Mallards and tripled, two drakes and a hen.

Starting then, the tables had turned.  I was a Greenhead killing machine.  At times, much to the dismay of my gunning partners.  I make it clear to everybody that I hunt with; if Mallards decoy, the drake is always on my side.