A Late Season Duck Story
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Time to read 5 min
The late-season push had arrived, and with it came single-digit temperatures and a north wind that bit straight through layers. Anyone who has ever hunted ducks in a flooded marsh knows the misery of cold that creeps in from every angle: the chill of your waders filling with air colder than the water around them, the dampness that works its way through coat seams, the numbing sting on your hands as you set decoys. Comfort becomes more than a luxury; it becomes a critical factor in whether you hunt well or spend the morning shivering and missing opportunities.
This time, though, I had a secret weapon: the TideWe heated hunting jacket. And as it turned out, staying warm made far more difference in the day’s success than I expected.
Before First Light
The plan was simple. A new batch of mallards had been reported pushing down with the cold front, and the water levels in our hidden pocket of marsh had risen just enough to flood the oak flats. Acorns were floating everywhere, and ducks had been diving into them all week. If conditions held, it could be one of those hunts you talk about for seasons.
But the temperature at launch time was an uninspiring 14 degrees. When I eased into the marsh, the water lapped icy against my waders, and fog rolled off the surface like smoke. I slipped on the TideWe heated jacket before pushing the canoe off the bank, clicking the chest button to its medium heat setting. Within seconds, the warmth spread across my core and lower back, a steady, comforting heat that felt like stepping into a cabin warmed by a wood stove.
Setting the spread was no small task. My gloves soaked through as soon as I began fastening decoys to their drop lines. The cold tried to settle into my shoulders, but the jacket kept my core warm enough that numb fingers and stiff arms remained manageable. I didn’t feel the usual shake that starts after 20 minutes of cold work; the jacket simply wouldn’t allow it.
By the time the final decoys were positioned and the motion pole was staked, a faint glow appeared behind the tree line. I paddled to the hide, an elevated clump of brush just tall enough to break my outline, and tucked myself into the cattails.
The Marsh Awakens
There’s a moment in every great hunt when the marsh truly wakes up: the first whisper of wings overhead. This morning, it came from behind me. The whoosh of mallards passing low and fast over the water never fails to raise the heartbeat. My breath clouded in the beam of my headlamp as I watched dark shapes circle the spread twice before fading into the gray horizon.
The hunting jacket kept me warm as I waited. Anyone who’s hunted ducks knows this is the most demanding part of the day: sitting motionless in brutal cold, every muscle tensing, your body begging for movement. But with heat radiating steadily through the panels of the TideWe jacket, I felt more comfortable than I ever had on a late-season hunt. I wasn’t burning energy trying to stay warm, which meant I was alert, patient, and completely focused on the birds’ behavior.
The First Opportunity
Legal shooting time arrived, and with it, a group of wigeon came skimming over the marsh. They banked wide, then doubled back as soon as they saw the motion decoy splashing. I gave a soft whistle, barely more than a breath, and the flock locked up immediately.
They dropped into the pocket with wings cupped and feet down—textbook perfection.
I rose from the hide, shotgun coming to shoulder smoothly, not trembling from the cold. Two shots rang out, and two birds splashed into the water. As I pulled the canoe around to retrieve them, a grin spread across my face. A good start, but more importantly, I felt comfortable, something I’d rarely been able to say during hunts like this.
The Mallard Push
The real action kicked in around 8 a.m. when the sun finally broke through the low clouds. The light scattered across the flooded oaks, turning the water gold. Mallards began moving in steady groups of five to fifteen, navigating the open pockets like commuters heading into a city.
I adjusted the jacket’s heat setting to low with a quick press of the chest button because I had warmed up with the rising light and scattered activity. I appreciated that the warmth didn’t disappear abruptly; it just softened enough to keep my temperature steady.
The next volley came when a trio of drakes swung in from the north. They ignored my first call sequence but locked up instantly when I switched to a contented feeding chuckle. They spiraled down, feet reaching toward the water, and I took another pair with clean shots. The third lifted skyward untouched, but I let him go, savoring the moment.
What struck me was not just the success but the clarity of mind. When you’re warm, you make better decisions, calling, timing, shot selection, and even patience. I didn’t rush opportunities or fidget restlessly. I felt like I was playing the hunt exactly as I had imagined it.
Holding Out for the Last Birds
By midmorning, I had one duck left to finish a limit. The marsh around me was alive with distant echoes of wings and the occasional shot from other hunters scattered across the flooded timber. I stayed tucked in, adjusting the jacket warmth again as the wind shifted colder. Battery life wasn’t an issue; several hours in, the indicator still showed plenty of charge.
Finally, a pair of late-morning mallards drifted low over the treeline. I gave a soft greeting call. They hesitated, circled twice, and then glided in. The drake dropped neatly into the decoys.
A limit on a day like this felt earned not by endurance, but by preparation.
A Warm Walk Out
Packing up is usually when the cold hits hardest, especially once adrenaline fades. But with the jacket still producing a steady heat, even the slog through knee-deep water felt easy. By the time I reached the truck, I realized something important: this had been one of the most comfortable hunts I’d ever had in brutal conditions. Not because the weather was forgiving, but because I had the right gear.
Final Thoughts
Duck hunting in a flooded marsh is rarely comfortable. It’s wet, cold, unpredictable, and demanding. Success depends not just on skill and strategy but on the ability to stay warm and focused for hours in the elements.
This season, the TideWe heated hunting jacket didn’t just keep me warm; it transformed the entire experience. I stayed sharp. I stayed steady. And in a world where even a little discomfort can cost you a shot, staying warm was the difference between a good hunt and a great one.
If the marsh teaches anything, it’s that preparation matters. And sometimes, the right layer of warmth can turn a freezing morning into a day you’ll remember for seasons to come.
Author
Roger Mitchell
Roger Mitchell is a renowned deer hunting specialist with decades of experience. Known for his innovative techniques and deep understanding of deer behavior, he advocates for ethical hunting practices and wildlife conservation, making him a respected figure in the hunting community.
