Duck season this year has been spotty for most duck hunters across Southeast Texas. From the lakes to the rice fields and coastal marshes, hunters are reporting mixed results.

This season I have personally hunted Sam Rayburn, a series of private fresh water ponds, and our local refuge.  We killed ducks in each location, but have had the most success in the coastal marsh.

The first part of the season started out very strong, leading me to believe that this could be a banner year.  However, as the season progressed, the hunting seemed to slow down. We still had some great hunts and built some awesome memories with family and friends, but our duck population slowly diminished.

To show you how unpredictable the hunting has been, I’ll share with you my last week of hunting:

After all of our Christmas Day festivities, my son Noah and I traveled north to meet my friend Marty, who I have hunted with many times. Due to a serious battle with cancer, he had not killed a duck in several years. I was determined to put him on some birds.

We spent the first day of the hunt on big Sam Rayburn. We managed to knock down a few ducks and shoot more than a few shells that first morning.  The hunt was far from terrible, but still not what we were hoping for. During our hunt the wind began to increase and we had a treacherous boat ride back to the launch.  The boat had taken on a fair amount of water and things quickly went from fun to scary. I decided that if we were going to continue to hunt this big lake we needed a bigger boat, so we packed up and headed back to Winnie.

We weren’t giving up on the ducks, we were just changing locations.  Heading back home to hunt had some great advantages which included the homemade soup my wife had waiting for us when we arrived. After a nice dinner we made our plans for day two.  We would hunt the series of shallow ponds down the street from our house.  I explained to Marty that the hunting was hit and miss, but it was always an easy hunt.

Waking up at 5:45 instead of 3 or 4 in the morning was nice.  Once in the blind we saw a few ducks flying, but I could tell it was going to be slow. We ended up shooting two ducks before deciding to go on a coot shoot.  The coot were abundant and proved to be very fun to hunt.  We each got a few and had a great time together as we pursued these often over looked game birds.  Most people never shoot them, but those who do are aware of their reputation on the table.  Their gizzards are great for gumbo, and the breast meat is better than many ducks.

All in all we had a great time and it was nice to see the smile on my friends face as we laughed together in the great outdoors.  I couldn’t help but thank God for allowing us to hunt together once again and for healing my friend from cancer.

The next day we returned to a different pond in the same area but never fired a shot.

This would be Marty’s last hunt and we topped it off with breakfast at Burrito Express. We may not have killed a bunch of ducks but we did limit out on burritos!  Marty was done hunting for now, but Noah and I were still going strong.

As Marty pulled out of the driveway, another friend pulled in.  For the next few days we would be hunting with my friend Rob.  He and I also have a long hunting history, and I was hoping for better results.

The alarm went off at 2:45 a.m. I was a zombie.  We would be hunting the public refuge this time and that means no sleep. However, it was worth it.  The ducks were everywhere.

By shortly after 9 a.m., we had our three-man limit of 18 birds and were picking up the decoys.  Our bird straps were full of ducks and we were smiling ear to ear.  We had a mixed bag of spoon bill, ring neck, gadwall, blue bill, and canvasbacks.

I was sad that Marty didn’t get to join us on this one, but was also glad that Rob did. It was Rob’s first hunt of the season and with his first baby on the way, I explained to him that his hunting time may be sparse over the next few years.

He disagreed but time will tell who was right. The weather was in the 50s as we headed out of the marsh, but that was all about to change.

The arctic blast that had been reported was about to blow into town. The older I get, the less I like super cold weather. However, it brings hope and anticipation to the duck hunter that lives inside of me.

I, along with many fellow waterfowlers, always seem to think that when it gets real cold up north, it will push a lot of ducks to our area. Sometimes it does and sometimes it doesn’t.

It would be a few days into the cold weather before we got to hunt again and we were very optimistic as to what the weather would bring. I had already decided that it would be a quick hunt and we would be out of the cold in no time.  I was hoping for a big bull canvasback to help fill my strap. Noah and Rob were equally excited.  We made sure to dress properly for the occasion since it rarely gets below freezing on our hunts.

Once again we were up at 2:45 but the excitement of the hunt made it seem OK. It was 27 degrees and we were ready.

The ride to the duck blind was cold and the boat was soon covered in ice.  This was the real deal.

As we placed the decoys in the frigid water, ice would form around their bills. I looked at my Labrador Penny and could see ice in her coat.

Surely all of this cold weather would equal a fast and furious hunt.  I was wrong.  As the dawn began to break I sensed that most of the ducks we had seen before had vacated the premises. No new ducks had showed up as I had expected.  There were still a few ducks in the area and we managed to scratch out a limit thanks to Noah and his great shooting that day. [He pulled a double and a triple].  We stayed longer than anticipated, got super cold in the process, but none the less had a ball.

What happened to all of the ducks?  Well it appears that the cold weather pushed them farther south to warmer weather. It not only pushed the ducks from up north, it also pushed the ducks that were here.  Remember that ducks and geese are migratory game birds. They migrate!

Sometimes they are in our area and other times they are nowhere to be found. Things can change overnight. The good news is that the best part of duck hunting doesn’t have anything to do with the ducks.  It’s the people that matter.

Sure we like to shoot limits, but as I look back through the years of hunting I don’t remember each bird on the strap, but I can recall each person in the blind.  Even though the results varied this week, I had a great time with my son Noah, and my friends Marty and Rob.

Looking back over the week, I can’t help but think that the Lord is good.  The truth is, if I get to hang out in the blind with my family and friends, there is no such thing as a bad hunt. Some are just better than others.

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Brian Johnson, originally of Port Neches, is pastor of the Outdoorsman’s Church in Winnie, owner of DuckDogTrainer.com and the outdoors writer for The News.