Growing up in the rural, Missouri Ozarks, duck hunting was a labor of love—heavy emphasis on labor. It meant beyond early mornings, driving hours to stand in the draw line, breaking ice and, on more than one occasion, finding out the hard way that there was a leak in my waders.
Those were the days when I was still somewhere between hunter stage 2 and 3—caring more about the success of the hunt than the experience. Now, I find myself at the other end of the spectrum, called The Sportsman Stage. At this point in my life, it’s about time spent with my family. It’s about time watching my dogs work. And in several years, if he’d like, it will be about time spent afield with my own son.
During a trip to Stuart Ranch near Waurika, Oklahoma last year, my dad, brothers, and I were able to find that community, enjoy an incredible hunt, and relax together along the way. The man responsible for giving us that opportunity, Clay Forst, represents the 6th generation of the Stuart family to run the ranch. He sees his role as the steward of a gift from God for others to come enjoy. Forst said, “Once you’re here, we’re going to give you the best experience we can and treat you like family.”
That’s exactly how it felt. We chatted with our guides like they had been friends forever. We ate food worthy of an upscale restaurant but served with an unpretentious family warmth. We played billiards and cards. And sure, we harvested our limits of ducks.
But the memories that stand out don’t have anything to do with pulling a trigger. It’s the moments before, after, and in between with family that come to mind.
Duck hunting with my family and friends is something I love. Stuart Ranch made sure I left the labor at home.