Hopefully Santa brings all you late season waterfowl hunters some good long underwear this year because on the day after Christmas the second half of New York’s western zone duck season opens. There can be some nasty weather to hunt ducks at this time of the year, but it can also be prime time for some great action if most of the swamps and small ponds are frozen, concentrating the ducks on larger bodies of water.
Lake Ontario can offer some very good late season diver duck hunting if the winds stay out of the south, keeping the big lake in a good mode and calm enough to get decoys out. Ontario is loaded with diver ducks right now and if you can find where they are rafting you can get some decent shooting.
But when all is said and done, the Finger Lakes are the place to hunt ducks in the late season, especially if it has been a cold December. The lakes can be fantastic in the second half, especially Cayuga Lake which is just south of Montezuma National Wildlife Refuge. If the weather is cold enough to freeze Montezuma’s marshes it pushes tens of thousands of ducks out of the refuge and south down onto Cayuga Lake. Seneca Lake can also be fantastic, especially if it has been super cold because Seneca Lake never freezes and rarely has any shore ice to mess with your decoy spreads. The problem is with hunting the Finger Lakes is that you need to know someone who owns shoreline property to hunt there.
If you are lucky enough to have a spot to hunt any of these lakes, great! But you do need to remember that this is a different ball game than first season. There is a serious safety factor to keep in mind when dealing with lakes in sub-zero temperatures … things can get dangerous quickly.
Over my half century of duck hunting I’ve done some crazy things just to shoot a few ducks, some of them extremely dumb. Just to give you an example of how you can get into big trouble in a hurry in the late season here is what not to do. This incident took place about twenty years ago (I always say twenty years ago, although it is probably more like thirty years in this case; but twenty sounds so much more recent and doesn’t make me feel like the geezer I am).
Anyway, it was in early January and John Bidwell, Ken Long and myself were diver duck hunting on Lake Ontario. There was a strong south wind blowing that morning making the near shore of the Great Lake calm. We launched Ken’s 14-ft. duck boat on a stony beach out by Fair Haven and motored down the shoreline to hunt an area that we’d hunted for years. We shot a few whistlers (goldeneyes) that morning and at about 11 a.m. we pulled the plug and motored back to the beach. We pulled the boat up on the stone beach and went to get the truck and trailer parked just a short walk away. When we returned we couldn’t believe what had happened. That stout south wind had blown our boat, loaded with all our guns and decoys, off shore about fifty yards and was pushing it out to Canada. We had forgotten to throw the anchor up on shore, our standard practice in most cases. Needless to say, we panicked.
I had waders on and promptly waded out into the lake, getting within twenty yards of the boat before it got too deep and cold water started to come over my waders. I debated swimming that distance for just a few seconds. Luckily, my tiny brain reminded me that the water temperature was about forty degrees at best and with the waders on I doubt I would have made it. Even if I did make it to the boat, how would I pull myself up into it with waders full of water?
We then proceeded to run in circles like the Three Stooges before running up on shore to a marina that was closed for the winter. There we spotted a tiny 8-foot dingy under one of the large sailboats stored there. We grabbed the boat and the two paddles under it and ran it down to the shoreline. I got in the boat with my buddy Ken and we started paddling without even thinking of the consequences. We didn’t even have lifejackets on! Talk about a couple of brain surgeons.
Now I need you to picture this. Back then I weighed in at about 150 lbs., counting my waders and heavy clothes. Kenny at that time was a big, heavy guy … almost twice my size (who, for the record, is now a trim 180 lbs.). Needless to say, once we got paddling I could barely reach the water with my paddle, while Ken’s side had about an inch of freeboard due to the uneven weight distribution in the tiny vessel. As we got about fifty yards out, that strong south wind caught us and was soon pushing us out at an alarming rate of speed towards Canada. That’s when it dawned on us that if we didn’t catch up with our duck boat we weren’t going to be able to paddle back against that strong wind. Keep in mind that all of this was back before cellphones and on Lake Ontario in January … there would be no boats out at that time of year to rescue us.
I yelled out to Ken that we’d better catch this boat or we weren’t going to make it back. Our adrenaline kicked in and we paddled that little dingy like it had a motor on it. We finally caught up with our boat at a good 300 yards offshore, totally exhausted. Somehow, we were able to climb into the duck boat, start the motor and tow the dingy back to shore. Heaven knows that we cheated the devil that day and were too stupid to even realize it until years later. We could easily have ended up sleeping with the fishes.
The moral of my story is to be extra cautious, my fellow late season duck hunters. You must respect that cold water and weather. And be doubly aware that in 30-40 degree water your energy runs out in mere minutes. Trust me, I know; but that’s a story for another column.
Damn, what a blowhard I am. I got so long winded telling that story that I’ve burned up my word count restriction for this column. I still have much more to say on late sea
