End of the Line

Friday morning, the final day before the opening of Iowa’s 2026 pheasant season.   I was spending the last of my preseason hours hiding in a stand of cattails while babysitting a spread of mallard decoys.   Although the duck hunting was slow, it had become obvious that the surrounding grasslands were alive with pheasants.   The upland birds were providing a continual display of raucous calling and I enjoyed frequent sightings of low flying roosters traversing the rolling uplands.   Anticipation was mounting.   The annual pheasant forecast was calling for strong bird numbers, and there was little question that there would be plenty of roosters available on the following morning.

Although the ducks were scarce, there were plenty of other wetland species to enjoy – like the passing harrier on the lookout for a careless snipe, or the gangling great blue heron stalking the shallows, or the pair of pied-billed grebes currently conducting an in-house inspection tour of my mallard counterfeits.

As I watched the curious grebes, another movement suddenly caught my eye – a pair of wood ducks skimming low over the marsh.   I do most of my waterfowl hunting in the state’s northern counties.   Up here, wood ducks are normally abundant during September and early October, but have mostly disappeared from the region by the third week of October.   To see a pair at the very end of the month came as somewhat of a surprise.   What wasn’t a surprise was that the birds completely ignored my decoys.   Given a choice, woodies are habitat specific, seeking the densest, darkest habitats they can find.   It was no wonder that they showed little interest in spending time on my open marsh.

Keeping an eye on the birds’ line of flight, I watched as the pair suddenly pitched down at edge of some thick willows.   I knew exactly where those woodies had dropped in, an isolated spot nicknamed the Willow Hole.   Although I had hunted the little wetland earlier in the season, the spot had been totally void of wood ducks since mid-October.   These were, in fact, the first woodies I had seen during the past ten days of duck hunting.

Wood ducks are one of my favorite waterfowl, and I couldn’t help but wonder if these birds were newly arrived migrants who, during their brief stay in Iowa, might make the Willow Hole a regular daytime loafing area.   Maybe the birds weren’t alone; maybe other wood ducks were also taking up temporary residence there as well.

Although all those cackling roosters were certainly going to provide a Saturday morning temptation, I also knew that if I passed on the possibility for one last go at the wood ducks, I would never know what I had missed.   In the end, the prospect of bagging a wood duck or two proved irresistible.   So in the wee hours of this year’s pheasant opener I found myself trudging across the uplands with a shotgun and bag of wood duck decoys slung over my shoulder.   The walk to the Willow Hole took longer than I had remembered, and shooting time had already arrived by the time I reached my destination.   After frantically tossing out my decoys, I had barely hunkered into the willows when a trio of wood ducks appeared through the willows and pitched straight to my decoys.

The birds presented what could only be described as chip shots – So much so, that I collected an easy double.   A beautiful drake appeared seconds later, and I managed to bag him as well.   I was living the dream.   In what was probably two minutes or less from tossing out that last decoy, I had downed a beautiful limit of woodies – three delicious duck dinners floated at the edge of the spread.   Gathering the slain, I quickly returned to my makeshift hide.   Although the numbers were far from spectacular, a few more wood ducks continued to trickle in.   Despite a heavy overcast, the bird’s colors were stunning.

When it comes to pure wetland entertainment, nothing beats watching and listening as a grouping of contented wood ducks interact within a pristine wetland setting.   With a limit of ducks already in hand, I couldn’t help feeling a bit content myself.

The morning was young and there was still plenty of time to get after those Opening Day roosters.   On the other hand, this would likely be the season’s final opportunity to spend time quietly observing our most beautiful waterfowl.   In the end, I opted to stay with the ducks and spent the remainder of my morning sitting in that little willow slough.   I would pursue those roosters on another day.