“no duck hunting”

Against his doctor's orders, Kyle Wintersteen went duck hunting last weekend—crutches and all. How did things go? Read on and find out.

Interested in trying your hand at open-water fowling? Here’s what you need to know.

Have you ever wondered about the impact that sales of decoys, duck calls, blinds, waders and other gear have on the economy?

Formed more than two centuries ago by the largest earthquake east of the Rockies, Tennessee’s only natural lake, Reelfoot, is filled to the brim with history, local legends and perhaps the state’s best duck hunting.

Need a new duck hunting spot? Open a map. See those blue lines? They're rivers. They are duck highways. Now all you have to do is follow the advice in this article.

Last week a duck-hunting magazine posted a photo of two hen wood ducks shot by a reader. The comments were mostly positive, but—as you might have guessed—at least one commenter was quick to chastise the guy for shooting hens. Here's Kyle Wintersteen's take.

Among all the duck-hunting haunts up and down the Mississippi Flyway, a spot in the middle of a water-filled woods just south of Tunica, Miss., between the Mississippi and Coldwater rivers provides wingshooters with a glimpse of Southern tradition. This is Beaver Dam Lake, made famous not only by its fabulous fowling but by one of the South’s prominent sporting scribes, Nash Buckingham.

We duck hunters are prone to irrational optimism. How else do you explain a group of people who can spend an entire day freezing our butts off in windy, pounding surf for just a duck or two (if we're lucky), only to go home, convince ourselves tomorrow will be better, and do it all over again? All we need is the slightest indication the duck hunting may improve.