As a native Georgian, I have hunted almost everything we have to offer. The only two exceptions are bears and alligators. Nothing, in my experience, is more aggravating than duck hunting. Georgia ducks almost cost me my future once. This story is a cautionary tale of what can happen when you leave home in pursuit of waterfowl.

Here’s my point. Back in 1997, right after Christmas, a group of buddies and I went to Lake Seminole to hunt Canvas Backs and diving ducks down. We stayed at the legendary Jack Wingate’s lodge. Now, if you are a bass fisherman over the age of 40, you should have heard of Wingate’s. Back in the ‘70s and ‘80s the tournament creels out of there were legendary! In any case, we were staying down there and a couple of us were hunting on our own and a couple of us were hunting with a local guide, Don Fabiani. 

The first day of the trip went well. If I remember correctly several limits were shot, including ringnecks, mallards, and a couple of canvasbacks. The second day was a different story. It started off with heavy fog turning into rain that was just downright miserable. Don broke out the peppermint schnapps, and we warmed up under the cover of the awning on his floating duck blind that he had made from a pontoon boat. Not a particularly sturdy one either. I remember that thing hitting a wave and the floor opening up on more than one occasion. However, we stuck it out and around 1 p.m. the ducks started flying. Slowly but surely, we built a limit. No canvasbacks that day that I remember but ringnecks were everywhere.

There was only one issue … two hours away in Ozark, Ala., I had a date that night with a cute little brunette that I had met at a wedding a few weeks prior. I was to pick her up at 5. Well … we got off the water at 5. If I’m not mistaken, I ended up picking her up at 7:30. Believe it or not, she waited for me. After a mediocre dinner and a lot of talking as we walked around the only thing to do in Dothan at that time, which was a small mall, I took her home and found out she had the best-tasting Chapstick I have ever experienced. It was a long drive back to Wingate’s that night and an early morning the next day! 

The final day was worse than the second. No ducks. They seemed to have moved north, and we heard rumors that good shooting was happening in the Tennessee area, but it surely wasn’t here. For me, though, the trip was a roaring success. I went back to Ozark, stayed a couple of days, and managed to get that brunette to marry me. Twenty-four years later we are still together, I no longer chase waterfowl, and I still think she has the best-tasting Chapstick.