Mallard Creek
Mallard creek is a little creek outside of Roseville CA. It is located on some private property that I wish I had access to, but when I was hunting there, I was 16 and 'technical' aspects like that didn't matter. I am ashamed to admit it, but we hunted there a lot over the course of three seasons. Originally called coon creek, we deemed it mallard creek for obvious reasons. It wasn't much, just a little creek that was lined with oak trees and willows on either side. The land around it was nothing but grasslands used for grazing cattle. I am sure that 999 out of 1000 people who drive by it don't even look twice, but when day when I was desperately looking for a place to duck hunt, I decided to stop just to look. Within minutes, a flock of mallards appeared on the horizon and as they flew over the creek, they abruptly fell from the sky, disappearing behind the cover of the oaks. Upon seeing this, I had to go in to check it out. Let me remind you that this was ten years ago and I am still reluctant to admit my wrong doings.
Not two hundred yards into the creek, I jumped a flock of nearly a hundred wood ducks, all squealing and flapping for the holes in the oak trees. I took one drake out of the group and left, planning on returning with Erik the next day. Erik and I both missed our first classes of the morning in order to hunt, but we came home with a few mallards and a couple of woodies.
After two years of hunting, we started realizing what we were risking by hunting mallard creek, as strong as the attraction was. We got caught finally and the rancher just basically said go home. This was at the end of the second season. Well, the next year, while on our way home from a hunt in District 10, we passed by mallard creek. It was a beautiful day for duck hunting; howling winds with a horizontal, cold rain. As we neared the creek (it sits just off a main highway), we both gasped as we saw a HUGE flock of mallards working down into the creek. There must have been close to two thousand, which the creek really couldn't hold. We both looked at each other, knowing what was inevitable.
The next morning found Erik and I slowly working our way through the dense tule fog, heading towards the sound of a lot of mallards. The heavy rains had caused a part of the creek to overflow, spilling about eight inches of water into the nearby cattle field...perfect. We stalked on our hands and knees, inching closer to the quacks and chuckles. Suddenly I spotted a green head in the tall grass not 20 yds. from us. We looked at each other and said "one, two, three" and rose in unison. The closest flock of about 30 birds rose and we each easily dropped a drake. At the sound of the shots, more ducks than you can imagine started rising from all around us. We literally had to wait for the flock to thin out for fear of hitting too many. Four more shots and four more greenheads. Two triples and all greenheads. We quickly grabbed our birds and headed out, despite the hoardes of ducks that were already starting to land all around us. It was a fitting end to the era of mallard creek. Although to this day I know that we were being unethical hunters by being there, mallard creek will always hold a special place in my mind. I will always remember getting chased by cows in the dense oak forests, seeing a cow give birth, having woodies jump from so close that you can feel the water from their wings, getting a mallard that was double banded, and being amazed at how easily woodies are duped by a couple of decoys set in the right pothole. Mallard creek is a magical place that may never get hunted again, for sub-divisions and wider freeways are currently overtaking it. Never again will I hunt there, but both Erik and I know that mallard creek will never be too far from our minds. In fact, we see it virtually every time we go up north to duck hunt, and we always scan the air for the mallards that bomb in.
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Email: christygarcia1@juno.com
