Return of the Hyde County duck hunt

By Tom Bryant

I was up in the roost, a little apartment above our garage where I go to write and hang out when I need to get out of the way of the vacuum cleaner and my bride, Linda. I was sorting through duck hunting gear from my last trip to Lake Mattamuskeet. Shotguns, waders, heavy waterproof hunting coats, shotgun shells, duck calls, hunting trousers — you name it and if it pertains to duck hunting, it was in a pile in the roost. 

Duck season ushered in a new kind of hunting for me in 2016 and January of the new year. In the past, I was used to running my own show so to speak. A group of us, six to be exact, leased impoundments right on the Pamlico Sound. Also included in the lease was a small house that served as our lodge. For a few years, the arrangement worked OK; but then a series of bad weather events flooded the impoundments with salt water, making them useless for growing corn, and the ducks went elsewhere. At the same time, our little lodge was invaded with a legion of mice, making the place uninhabitable, so we gave up our efforts, and I didn’t duck hunt in that area for a while.

I missed the wilds of Hyde County, though, so last summer, when my good friend Art called me after a visit to Engelhard, scouting for a new duck hunting venue, I was excited. “Hey, Tom, this is Art.  How you doing, sport?”

“Great, Art! Good to hear from you, old friend. What are you up to?”

“Jack, John and I have been scouting around Hyde County, looking for a spot for us to hang our duck-hunting hats, and we think we’ve found it. You interested?”

Needless to say I was, and they added me to the group. The hunt would be handled sort of the way I was introduced to the area. We would use a guide and his impoundments located right on the northern end of the lake. The guide would take care of all the details, which I wasn’t used to; but hey, I thought, I’m not getting any younger, and maybe an easy hunt like this would be nice.

The weeks rolled by and all of a sudden, it was time to round up all my duck-hunting stuff, load up the Cruiser and head east. The ride to Hyde County from Southern Pines was a trip of extremes, up through Raleigh and all the breakneck traffic trying to get nowhere fast, and then with a sigh of relief, I eased across the Pungo River onto the “Road Less Traveled,” which is the motto of Hyde County.

When I crossed the river, I pulled into a little gravel parking area right on the other side of the bridge and walked back to see if anything had changed since my last visit. An osprey was fishing, diving into the water with a splash, and with a fish in his claws, headed back across the tree line bordering the river to eat lunch. Then I heard them before I could see them. So high above were hundreds of snow geese, only little spots against the washed-out blue of the winter sky, their soft plaintive calls an indication of the altitude at which they were flying.

Excited, I fired up the Cruiser and motored toward Engelhard and the pair of cabins that would serve as our headquarters for the next four days. Art, John, Jack and Art’s son, Michael, were an hour or more behind me, so I got to the cabins first, unloaded some gear and waited for their arrival and the beginning of good times.

I had just sat down in a swing on the porch overlooking the Pamlico Sound when the troops pulled in the drive. In no time, all their gear was unloaded and John, the gourmet chef of the group, had staked out which cabin and kitchen he would use for his culinary efforts. I have been hunting with John for years and have been fortunate to experience many meals prepared by this excellent cook. We all looked forward to his expertise in the kitchen, always a high point of the hunt.

After completing the details of unloading and who was to use which cabin, Art called the guide to get our marching orders for the next day and also see if we could check out the evening flight into the impoundments. The guide said he would meet us at his barn and take us to the dike to watch, so we took care of some last minute details and everyone loaded into Michael’s big Suburban for the 15-minute ride to our morning rendezvous, hopefully, with ducks. The gray evening was heavily overcast with low clouds spitting rain, and although we couldn’t see the ducks, we sure could hear them. Our guide said, “If the weather holds, we should wear ’em out at sunrise.” We drove back to the cabins full of anticipation.

Five a.m. came early after an evening of good fellowship and John’s great cooking, but it didn’t take long to trudge to the Suburban, heavily loaded with guns and gear. On the way to the impoundments, Michael was commiserating about his lack of experience duck hunting. This was his first time in a blind. Michael has a very responsible position with Wells Fargo Bank and spends a lot of time on the job. The rest of the guys told him that duck hunting was a snap and he should be really good at it. Jokingly they said, “Just watch Bryant and try to do the opposite.”

We met the guide and trooped to the blind in good order. The weather was still blowing out of the northeast with a heavy mist. We hunkered down under cover and waited for legal shooting time. Whistling wings could be heard overhead as ducks started coming off the roost heading to the lake. You could almost taste the excitement. The guide whispered, “OK, it’s time, get ready.”

A pair of widgeons swung by out front, and one fell to our guns. Another pair, wood ducks this time, came from the right and flew straight out. Michael’s gun roared and both ducks fell. Two ducks, one shot. Even the guide celebrated and gave Michael a high-five. “See,” I said and laughed. “This duck hunting isn’t that hard.”

The morning went by in a blur as ducks came to the blind; but to me, the most incredible sight were the tundra swans coming off the lake, literally by the thousands. They were flying treetop high over the blind, and the sounds they made calling in those impossible numbers I’ll probably never hear again in my lifetime. It was one of nature’s most incredible sights, and I surely won’t forget it.

I looked out the window of the roost and watched as a pair of cardinals flew to the bird feeder. Well, I thought, here it is February, and there’s duck hunting stuff everywhere. Time to put it all away until next season and see if I can put together some fishing gear. We’re leaving for Florida and Chokoloskee Island soon, and the folks down there say the fishing is great.  PS

Tom Bryant, a Southern Pines resident, is a lifelong outdoorsman and PineStraw’s Sporting Life columnist.

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