Quack shot: `home of the friendliest people and the annual coon supper' says a sign entering Gillett, Ark., the duck-hunting capital of the world

0 Comments | Insight on the News, Dec 31, 2001 | by Gene Mueller

Bill Cooksey whispers, "Be still," as we huddle in a well-concealed blind in the middle of a soggy rice field, occasionally brushing off an impertinent mosquito. "We've got some widgeons up there."

While Cooksey points a finger into a pink dawn sky, maybe 150 mallards pass to our left and another 50 or so on the right. A dozen wood ducks zip straight toward us in the middle, and heaven only knows how many thousands of other web-footed critters flutter, careen and flap about in the distance.

"Get ready, more mallards and a bunch of gadwalls behind us," says Cooksey, 34, the reigning Tennessee duck-calling champion and a national sales manager for Avery, a hunting-accessories company. He cackles on an expensive duck call and, on cue, the birds turn our way, shots ring out and seconds later a black Labrador retriever sloshes through the shallow water to gather the greenheads.

Welcome to Arkansas, the state that rightfully can pronounce itself the duck-hunting capital of the United States -- indeed, the duck-hunting capital of the world. No fluff, no puff. Pure, simple fact.

Technically, the town of Stuttgart, a stone's throw from Gillett, is the duck capital of the world, as Stuttgart was first to capitalize on the annual visiting swarms of migrating waterfowl. The truth is the entire county is dotted with rice fields, water-filled agricultural ditches and woodland margins scattered across hundreds of thousands of acres. All of it combines to create a gigantic magnet for hungry ducks -- which subsequently presents unequalled shooting opportunities for visitors who come here from every part of America, including me.

Cooksey and Sam Counce, co-owner of a local lodge, continue making sweet sounds on their calls. "Watch it," Cooksey says, suddenly. "Spoonbills over head.... Teal off to the side, a bunch of 'em"

"And don't forget the wood ducks that are coming at us from over there," whispers Counce, a superb dog handler and caller. He points to a treed levy as the two men whistle softly to keep the "woodies" in the area. Sure enough, the colorful ducks turn toward us, flying no more than 30 feet above the water's surface.

We rise, 12-gauge shotguns bark loudly and the retriever is back on the job.

So it went almost without stop for the better part of an unusually warm, bright, sunny morning. Everybody had a limit of ducks without first having to prove that they were ready for precision shooting matches. It was that easy -- thanks to two very good callers who knew their business.

"You ought to come back a little later in the season" says Counce. "Most of our mallards haven't arrived yet."

I am absolutely amazed. "You mean there'll be even more ducks in the weeks to come?" Counce nods and smiles knowingly. "Where in the world do they all land?" I ask. "Won't they bump into one another?" Counce just grins.

Should you ever find yourself in Gillett (an hour's drive south of Little Rock) with visions of locustlike flocks of ducks dancing before your eyes, be sure to stop by the Buckshot Duck Lodge operated by Counce and Greg and Jimmy Hackney. (The name "buckshot" refers to a type of dirt found on the shores of the Arkansas and White rivers; it has nothing to do with ammunition.) This beautiful lodge, constructed of cypress wood, provides four-star accommodations, superb home cooking, hunting guides, dogs and even loaner shotguns and waders if you forget yours. There's a huge TV screen to watch various sports broadcasts after shooting. For a $350 daily fee you'll eat, sleep and hunt in splendor.

"We have access to more than 10,000 acres of huntable land," says Counce. "People from as far away as Idaho, New York, the Carolinas, you name it, come here to hunt." He estimates that his lodge will book 1,100 guests during the 2001-2002 hunting season. "But we can always make room for more," he says with a businessman's smile.

For those who want to buy their own waders, they can shop at the Mack's Prairie Wings in Stuttgart. The 92,000-square-foot hunting-supply store is nirvana for shoppers who spend their children's inheritance on camouflage clothing, shotguns, shotgun shells (including the latest tungsten steel/nickel-blended pellet loads), superbly crafted shotgun cases that will float if the need arises, camouflage netting and imitation grass materials that can hide a duck boat in a swamp. And, of course, finely crafted duck calls that cost more than the average American spends on two weeks worth of groceries. (It also has a mail-order department that keeps 26 women busy on the phone lines.)

On the day before the Arkansas duck season opens, the store's stadium-sized parking lot is jammed with cars, trucks, camping trailers and boats (most everything in tasteful camouflage, of course). And the tags read like an American road map: Louisiana, Alabama, Tennessee, Virginia, Texas, and heaven only knows how many from Willy Clinton's former home state.

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