A Third-Generation Hunter in the Making
By Bill Burrus, Greenwood Commonwealth - Greenwood, MS

A Note From Drake Waterfowl: Our friend Bill Burrus, a longtime duck hunter from Greenwood, MS, is an editor for the Greenwood Commonwealth newspaper. This article appeared in the newspaper recently and perfectly captures many of the principles on which Drake Waterfowl was built. Thanks, Bill, for sharing this great story of fathers and sons and the passing of our hunting heritage.

It's been about 25 years since I've hunted with my father, but the memories we built in the woods, in the blind and in the boat are as vivid and special as ever. Whether it was filling a cooler up with bream on McIntyre Lake, calling in ducks in the back of Six Mile Lake, or shooting doves in a milo field, we shared some mighty fine times together in the outdoors. My dad, Bill Burrus Sr., age 76, got out of hunting about 25 years ago, about the time I was old enough to drive and hunt on my own.

That was about the same time that the cost of duck hunting, due to many factors, was rising drastically. He decided that we could only afford for one person in our family to hunt - and that was going to be me. I was absolutely obsessed with duck hunting by then and had some good friends who shared that same passion. As I look back now, I realize what a great sacrifice my dad made - one of many sacrifices he made for me to enjoy my passion.

I remember a lot of different hunts - both good and bad. There are plenty of good things I recall about the bad ones, too, mainly just having my father's full attention for hours on end and learning about the finer points of hunting while the action was slow. The most memorable hunt came when I was about 12. We were blessed with a full limit of ducks while hunting at Six Mile Lake. After we got our limit, ducks were still flying, and dad told me this would be the perfect time to finish learning to blow a duck call, something I had become quite frustrated trying to master. We had live ducks to test my skills against so went to work.

Under his tutelage, I soon had ducks responding to the call and landing in our decoys. That was the day I became a real duck hunter. Little did I know at the time that these were "new ducks" arriving here in the Mississippi Delta ahead of a big cold front. I probably could have been blowing a bugle and those ducks still would have swarmed our decoys. That move gave me the confidence I needed to get over the hump and become a good young caller of ducks.

That outing is forever etched in a mind filled with special hunting memories between the two of us. To me, there is no better way to build a special bond than bringing a kid up in the outdoors, teaching them to hunt and fish. My dad use to take me along on hunts well before I was old enough, and skilled enough, to properly and safely shoot a shotgun. I just loved being a part of the hunt and learning a little something along the way.

That's the way I've handled hunting with my son, Thomas, who is 9. He was going on dove hunts by the time he was 3, working almost as hard as any retriever I've ever had. Thomas began tagging along on deer hunts soon after that. He killed his first deer at the age of 6 and has killed a couple of more since then. Thomas killed his first duck last year, a greenhead mallard, out of Kenny Thompson's blind in the McIntyre Scatters. He made sure he kept it separated from the rest of the kill and even carried it around with him in the yard later that afternoon. I had to give in to his request to get the duck mounted just to get Thomas to quit carrying it around all afternoon. (That greenhead is still in the freezer, though.)

Like his dad, Thomas prefers duck and dove hunting for the action and social aspects over deer hunting. His inability to sit still and keep his mouth shut for more than three straight minutes makes deer hunting more of a challenge. Thomas made two of my three recent opening weekend duck hunts, including a surprisingly successful first-day hunt. Three of us got our limits and were able to take 10 mallards in the process. You take a hunt like that, throw in sharing it with your son, and it ranks right up there with some of my best outdoor experiences.

Having another member of the family, Zep, our 2 1/2-year-old Labrador retriever, along on these hunts adds even more to our adventures. Zep, named by Thomas after one of his favorite bands, Led Zeppelin, picked up 17 of 18 ducks on the Friday following Thanksgiving. Most of my fondest childhood memories involving my dad and I can be traced back to hunting and fishing. I believe Thomas will one day look back and feel the same way. He's well on his way to becoming an accomplished hunter, a third-generation hunter from the Burrus family. My dad's father didn't hunt, so Pops - the name we affectionately use for dad - began fishing on his own as a youngster. It wasn't until 1961, when he was 28, that he started hunting. New friend John Oden, who had moved to Greenwood from Kosciusko, got him involved in dove hunting and that led to duck hunting.

Matter of fact, I dug out an Aug. 29, 1976, Greenwood Commonwealth article this past week about dad's transition to hunting. I guess I owe John Oden a big thank you since he played a big role in getting dad into hunting. I hate to think of all the wonderful hunting experiences we might have missed out on and the hunting knowledge that I am passing down to my son. Like my father did with me, I know that Thomas will one day build this same bond with his kids by sharing his passion of hunting with them. I can think of no greater gift to give - or receive.