You Can't Keep a Good Man Down
By Kelly Haydel, Drake Elite Team

Drake Elite Team Member Eli Haydel

"Well fellas, I think it's about that time. This has been a REALLY good hunt." That was the last thing that my father, Eli Haydel, said on the last hunt I had with him during the 04-05 season. It was truly one heck of a hunt! It originally started out as just Dad and I. But due to miscommunication with another hunting party, a close friend, Jason Campbell was standing at the landing ready to hunt and had no blind to hunt. Dad said, "Come on man. The more the merrier." Dad has always been fond of other duck hunters that share his passion, especially when they're born south of I-10.

That day we were to hunt the "Old South Blind", where a lot of videos and many spectacular hunts were made. This was by far the most consistent blind out of all the others. This blind had not been hunted for about a month and had not been hunted by Dad all season. He said, "Well let's just see what this Old South Blind will do."

The sparse numbers of visits really paid off. As first light hit us, birds were buzzing the blind like mosquitoes during teal season. When shooting time arrived, Dad said, "O.K. fellas. Let's see what we can do on these mottled ducks." In his perfect timing and cadence, the maestro conducted a dance of wings. Needless to say, those mottled ducks didn't leave the spread and were soon on the strap. The rest of the hunt just got better, with individual shots being called. "O.K. Jason, these two are yours." and "Kelly you better get bird before I do." Dad was truly on top of his game. We left early to let the birds rest for a film crew later in the week. As we were pulling the boat out of its hide, Dad said, "Yep, the Old South Blind is sure hard to beat."

Ending that season on such a good note left us yearning for the next year. As it approached, we had blinds ready, decoys ready, boats ready. Bring on the 05-06 season. We are ready! What we weren't ready for was Hurricane Rita. On September 22nd, we took off for the camp to simply tie things down a bit. Rita had her eyes set on Galveston, but this fickle woman changed her mind and her course. On September 24th, the eye of Rita made landfall along the Texas/ Louisiana border, and our camp was on the "nasty side" of the storm.

The camp was devastated and we had to shift into salvage mode. Walking through the flood water, mud and stench, I thought about Dad's words years ago, "When I was young, I dreamed of having my own place to hunt and now I finally do. It's a dream come true." This was a hard blow that would take a while to overcome, but you can't break a Cajun that easily. Dad came to see for himself the aftermath of Rita and for a moment he was at a loss for words. Then he switched into "do mode" and within weeks we had our T.V. shows and other hunts rescheduled thanks to some great Louisianans. The state was hurt badly, but duck season was coming and you just can't miss it. However, all of the stress of Rita had taken its toll on him.

On October 13th, I was awakened by one of those phone calls that everybody dreads. My brother, Rod, was pulling up at the emergency room, just as Dad was arriving in an ambulance. "They think Dad has had a stroke." he said. I jumped to my feet in a scramble to get up to the hospital and on the drive my mind raced with all kinds of thoughts. Would he ever be able to speak? Would he ever hunt again? Is he in pain?

When I walked through the door, I could see that Dad was stable, and the doctor was explaining what the next procedure would be. "I had a stroke." were the muffled words I heard from Dad through his oxygen mask. Although he had just suffered a stroke, Dad was for the most himself. I thought everything was going to be okay now that he was at the hospital. I was so wrong. In the few minutes that I had left to call Cliff, our other brother who was working out of town, Dad had another stroke.

Unlike the first stroke, which the doctors classified as mild, this stroke was much worse. When I entered the room to tell Dad that Cliff could catch a flight, everybody was scrambling. Dad was trying to talk, but could do nothing but stutter. Half of his face was lifeless. It was as if someone turned a switch off or unplugged a plug. This was by far the worst thing I have ever had to experience; watching someone panic that can no longer communicate and being completely helpless, all at the same time.

The doctor explained that Dad had just experienced a moderate to severe stroke and not much could be done except to give him a blood thinner and wait. Wait. I didn't want to hear that. I wanted to hear that there was some sort of super drug that would fix everything, but the only thing anybody could do was hope, pray and of course wait. When a tragedy happens, one tries to factor in every event that could help them hold on to hope that everything would be alright. That's exactly what we did.

"The doctor said it sure is a good thing Linda was there with Dad because the sooner a person gets to the hospital with a stroke the better." I told Rod as he nodded. Rod said, "After four or five days we should know something because any swelling that might occur will start going down. That's what they are saying." The doctors could do no more and it was now in God's hands. We hoped our prayers would be answered and Dad would make it through. Several days went by and his condition seemed to worsen. The doctors said this was due to the swelling that they had anticipated.

Rod sent out several e-mails and made some posts on various web sites so that everyone would be aware of what was going on. The outpouring of concern and prayer was incredible. I knew that my Dad was a very special person, yet never realized how special he was to so many others whose lives he had touched. The prayers were answered and within days he began to slowly improve. When he was well enough, we read some of the e-mails to him and he was very humbled and overtaken with emotion.

Dad started improving at an unbelievable rate and soon he was walking with a walker. Shortly after that, he began to walk with a cane and then on his own. The physical therapists said that he was progressing really quickly and that would really help to boost his determination. There is a saying; "You can't keep a good man down." and Dad was determined to get better so that he could do the things he loved. Soon he was holding a saxophone and working the keys, as well as blowing his duck call. "I don't have what I used to, but I'm still gettin' better." he said. With every experience he had to relearn, his new motto would ring out.

Dad's outlook on life had changed, just like many people who experience a tragic event. He became very involved with his wife's church and they both traveled to south Louisiana on a mission to help some of the hurricane victims. "Well I couldn't help much, but I talked to them in French (Cajun French) and told them things would get better." dad said. He says he didn't do much, but those are the words of a humble man.

Now, Dad is back to driving and he comes in to the shop two days a week. Just a few weeks ago he went to the gun club and broke some targets. He said, "Well, I'm not what I used to be, but I can still hunt." And that's exactly what we have planned for this year. We've put the hurricanes, and the stroke behind us. Dad is back to blowing his call and swinging his gun. The duck camp hasn't made it back to what it was, but thanks to many strong backs and helping hands, it will be ready for the upcoming season. Cold fronts are coming and so are the ducks. We have to make up for lost time and we are going to have a great duck season. Why? Because we will be able to hunt the "Old South Blind" with our dad again.

Like they say,
"You can't keep a good man down."