Welcome to My Outdoor Tales. Here at My Outdoor Tales you will be able to read about some of my outdoor experiences. I will also provide Hunting, Fishing, Camping Experiences And Other Related Hints And Tips that I hope you will find entertaining and interesting to read and use. I hope that you enjoy reading the articles at My Outdoor Tales.

My First Hunt

The morning was crisp and clear. It wasn't too cold. It was opening day of waterfowl hunting season. Dad and I were in the low area of our farm on the south side of Highway NE-74 north of Ong, Nebraska about 30 minutes before the hunting hour.

The low lying area was kinda' like a marshy wetland or a lagoon. It covered maybe only about 8-10 acres. The area wasn't that deep. The deepest part was what is called the "bar ditch", the ditch alongside the road. A person wearing "overshoes", rubber boots that covered your normal shoes, wouldn't get his feet wet in certain parts of it. It just held water mostly all year long. But it sure was a waterfowl magnet, as was our neighbors area acrooss the road.

Both lagoons, ours and the neighbors, had contained in them the typical wetland marshy grasses. Like Cat Tail, Bulrush, Wild Rice, Sedge, Milkweed, an assortment of reeds and a few others. Some of the grasses were tall enough to provide good natural cover to hide in or conceal a person while hunting.

The ducks, geese and other waterfowl were already filling the air as they flew between the lagoons and the field crops. Our anticipations were running high. It was going to be a good day to hunt.

Dad and I were both wearing our overshoes. We didn't have hip waders. Didn't need them. We walked out in the lagoon until the water was about ankle deep. Then we squatted down to await hunting hour.

As the hunting hour approached the air was filled with waterfowl. But the ducks, geese and other shooable waterfowl were flying too high and out of range for our shotguns. Especially for my little .410 shotgun. We didn't have the luxury of duck and goose calls at that time. We just had to wait for a good shot.

As the morning wore on the ducks, geese and other waterfowl started flying lower. Then all of a sudden here comes a low flying duck at a shootable height. The excitement rose as the duck got closer. Dad was going to give me the first shot. I was ready, or so I thought.

I had my shotgun bead trained on the duck and the gun on the front of my shoulder. The duck came within range.

I can still remember dad saying, "Shoot, Shoot".

But for some reason I didn't fire. Why I don't know. Maybe I wanted the duck closer. Or maybe it was just because this was my first actual hunt and first shot at live game. Anyhow as the duck got closer I had to elevate the shotgun barrel higher.

The duck kept getting closer and when the duck was almost on top of me or straight up in the air I fired. Needless to say the recoil propelled me backwards and down. We were still squatted on our haunches.

And as a result I got my butt totally soaking wet as I was sat down in the water because of the recoil and from the position of being squatted. But somehow that didn't matter. I got the duck. My first duck or wild game. I felt so proud. But it was a good thing the weather wasn't too cold.

Dad and I continued to hunt for awhile. We just shot enough for a few good meals as we could hunt anytime we wanted to. Plus the fact that we didn't have a refrigerator or freezer to keep things cold for a long period of time.

We didn't even have electricity so why shoot more than you could eat in a couple days or so. We just had the old type ice box that you put a block of ice in the top to keep things cold for a few days. The block of ice would have to be replaced every few days because it would melt.

All we had to do was walk out the door of our house and go about 1/4 mile to shoot more to eat. So why shoot more than you could eat especially with no way to preserve the game for a long period of time.

Dad and I had many memorable hunts together. I was now a full-fledged hunter.