How to Shoot, Cook, and Eat a Duck

Pretty Much Everything You Need to Know

First, go now--the first week in November-- to the Hackberry Rod and Gun Club in Hackberry, Louisiana.  You’ll get up at 4 a.m., have breakfast, meet your guide and his Labrador Retriever, ride in his pickup truck to a ditch bank a half-hour away from the hunting camp, get in a 16-foot gunboat powered by a Go-Devil outboard motor--a contraption designed to run in shallow-water and mud and grass. 

That’s why the ducks are there, for the grasses in the miles of marshes.  A Go-Devil sticks out the back of the boat like no other motor you’ve ever seen, and makes an uncommon amount of noise.  It’s a fun ride to your blind--a wooden platform specially-covered by marsh reeds.  There you’ll put your shotgun shells, maybe a thermos of coffee and a snack.  You’ll sit on a bench and wait for the sunrise and the arrival of the ducks, which you hope will come to the decoys already riding on the water in front of the blind.

When the guide sees ducks heading your way when light permits, he’ll tell you, “Ok, got some mallards working us from the north.  Get ready!”  He’ll blow on his call to attract the birds. (If you have a call you’re better off not blowing it unless you’re an expert, as you’ll scare the birds away.) You’ll slowly turn to see the approaching ducks.  Here they come!  When they’re close enough to shoot, the guide will holler, “Take ‘em!”  You’ll stand and shoot...bam! bam! bam!...and probably miss.  The instant the ducks see your movement they put everything in high gear and get the hell out of there, which is their specialty.

How-to-shoot-a-duck is an ages-old question far too complex to address at this writing.  Imagine trying to hit a running dog with a spray of water from your garden hose.  You’ve gotta shoot where he’s heading, not where he is.  That’s called “leading the target.”   Duck shooting is approximately one million times more difficult than squirting a dog. First, a duck is in the air.  Second, they know nothing about straight lines of flight.  Third, they change speeds whenever they like.  Not to worry though.  The guides are excellent shots and you’ll have ducks to take home.

For my purposes now we’ll assume that you’ve managed to shoot your limit, maybe five ducks each, fifteen ducks for three shooters.

You’ll Go-Devil back to the lodge for a huge bowl of gumbo, then before your nap you’ll head down to the old wooden building on the dock, where fish and ducks are prepared for cooking.  There are duck plucking machines, electrically-powered rolling drums with rubber nubs that pull off the feathers when you press the duck’s carcass against ‘em.  That way you end up with an entirely nude duck that looks like a Cook’s Illustrated Magazine photograph...assuming that you’ve already gutted the bird and whacked off it’s legs, wings and head.

My friends and I do not use the plucker, but choose to lay the fully-feathered ducks on their backs on the table so you’re looking down at the duck’s breast, from which you remove the feathers by tearing the skin with your fingers, peeling it back and exposing the breast meat, making what looks like a small clearing in all the feathers.  Then you use a small, sharp knife to cut away the meat from each side of the breast bone, leaving the carcass with wings, legs, guts and head attached, to be thrown away.  There’s not much meat on the legs and wings, and it’s stringy-tough, so “breasting ‘em out” is faster, gives you essence of the duck in two parts about he size of a bar of soap.

So, now you’ve got 30 duck breasts, right, after shooting fifteen ducks?  Into a big zip-lock bag they go, with enough Lud’s Sauce to cover.  Lud’s is a cajun marinade made in Sulphur, Louisiana.  If you use a substitute don’t blame me if the breasts end up tasting like a wallet.  The label on my jar of Lud’s says it’s the “Cajun way to add a little spice to your life.”  The Cajuns sprinkle it on their privates, I’m sure.

After the breasts marinate in the fridge for a couple of days it’s time to get them ready for the grill. 

You’ll need a pound of sliced bacon, a jar of pickled, sliced jalapeno peppers, and a box of wooden toothpicks.  You’re going to roll up the individual breasts in half a piece of bacon with a slice of pepper, then hold it all together with a toothpick.  You don’t need a long slice of bacon, so lay the whole pound out on the counter and cut it in two.  

Put the peppers, breasts and toothpicks in separate bowls.  Lay the bacon flat so that you can put the duck meat and pepper on one end and roll it up and skewer it in a few moves.

Next you put ‘em on the grill like you would a steak.  I use tongs to turn them as they cook.  They’ll flame up due to the bacon, and you’ll need to move ‘em around a bit, so it’s a hands-on operation.  The most important part is making sure you don’t overcook the duck breasts.  When the bacon’s cooked all around, the meat’s done.

I know it doesn’t sound that good, but it is, and it’s unusual, perfect for appetizers or as a meat course with rice or pasta and a salad.  I like a bowl of yellow Lakeside Grits with mine.

Different wild meats would do nearly as well as the duck, I’m sure, but I’m looking forward to supper tomorrow at Hackberry, standing around the grill with the other hunters, eating the tasty roasted duck breasts hot off the grill. 

I asked my father years ago on my first duck hunt, “Dad, how far ahead of the duck do you shoot?  That’s still the main question.