Waterfowl Double - Hunting ducks & geese with two-barreled guns

By Richard S. Grozik

Hunting Ducks & Geese with Two-Barreled Guns

(Article courtesy of Shooting Sportsman Magazine, where it appeared in the May/June 2013 issue.)

Things take strange shapes in the inky darkness while you’re waiting for dawn to sober your imagination. Sounds of the marsh are magnified, and sometimes wingbeats tearing the air above are all that can be heard. It is a magical time, peering into the half-light, watching the marsh wake up. If the decoys have been set just right, the wind will funnel the ducks out front. Patience, good calling and straight shooting will then win or lose the day.

Waterfowling runs deep in the hearts and souls of those who have been enchanted by the mystery of its migrants and the sentiment of its traditions. For many, duck hunting is more than recreation; it is an irresistible force of nature that compels them to leave behind warm beds, work and worldly concerns when fall birds are on the wing.

Lured into the marsh early in life, I still have a dog-chewed duck call and empty paper hull to remind me of my first attempt at a flaring greenhead. Then, as now, I felt it only right for a double gun to be part of the fall ritual. Images of silver-haired patriarchs with long-barreled, tightly choked side-by-sides haunted me from the beginning. It was the way duck hunting had been done by generations of watermen from Chesapeake Bay to the St. Clair River flats; from Mississippi River backwaters to the flooded ricefields of the Grand Prairie, and to countless marshes, sloughs, potholes, ponds and lakes across the continent. It seemed downright irreverent to hunt ducks any other way. Using a duck double, carefully and lovingly crafted, was how I always intended to honor the birds. When steel shot broke the tradition, I reluctantly succumbed to a three-shot repeater until lead-shot substitutes were developed that could kill ducks without damaging my old doubles. Now, as my hair grays, there is bismuth, tungsten polymer and other nontoxics to keep me connected to that long line of waterfowlers who paid homage to the ducks with double-barrels and double triggers.

American side-by-sides were forged in the duck marsh. Parker, Fox, L.C. Smith, Ithaca, Winchester and others made 10- and 12-gauge guns to shoot the heaviest loads. Early in the 20th Century some were offered with 3” chambers to handle the stronger new shotshells being developed. The HE Super Fox, Parker, Elsie Wildfowler, Ithaca NID Super 10 and Winchester Model 21 Duck were all bored with 3” chambers. In addition to 12-gauge guns, Parker and Fox experimented with 3” 16-gauge doubles that never made it into production. Parker, Fox and Winchester also offered duck guns in 20 gauge. These waterfowling pieces were heavy and long-barreled, built for maximum loads and rigorous use. Their length helped trace distant birds silhouetted against leaden skies, and their weight gave them more inertia for all-important follow-through shot to shot. Because many of these vintage American side-by-sides were used hard under harsh weather conditions, all should be carefully evaluated by a gunsmith before they are taken afield.

My AE Fox was built in 1911, when Ansley H. was still overseeing the production of his company’s doubles. Though not a 3” gun, the 30-inch Krupp-steel barrels, choked Full & Full, were made heavy with the number 1 contour (thicker barrel walls) for a trap man, live-pigeon shooter or, as I like to believe, dyed-in-the-wool duck hunter. The gun’s thick breech allowed gunsmith Dennis Potter of Wisconsin to open its original 2-5/8” chambers to 2-¾”. Two ivory beads contrast nicely with the rust-blued barrels, and the gun’s well-balanced, eight-pound weight, once moving, swings readily through targets. Because my long arms require at least a 15-inch length of pull, the original stock was replaced with similar English walnut by Wenig Custom Guns of Lincoln, Missouri. The oil-finished stock’s 1-3/8” drop at comb and 2-1/8” drop at heel align my master eye perfectly over the tapered rib. Cast-on of 3/8” was added to accommodate my left shoulder. The Prince of Wales grip, though not straight, gives my left hand good control but is open enough to allow for easy trigger-finger movement. Rotary bolted with a rib extension, the Fox is dead-tight on the face, its toplever well right of center. With proper care and feeding, the old Fox should give another century of faithful service.

Unfortunately, none of America’s early side-by-sides were built for steel shot. Though some guns have had their chokes opened to shoot steel—and some ballistic experts claim that steel is safe for older guns—using steel in older guns is a risk I would not take. Better to use softer substitutes for steel, although alternatives are priced well above their steel counterparts. In the grand scheme of the hunt, this is still a small price to pay to keep the double-gun tradition alive in the duck marsh. In the Fox I have had great success with RST Nice Shot, Kent Tungsten Matrix and Bismuth No-Tox (though the latter are long out of production and hard to come by). The pellets have specific gravities and malleability similar to lead. Placed on target, these well-balanced loads fold ducks as impressively as lead. In the 1980s Parker Reproductions briefly offered a 12-gauge 3” gun designed for steel-shot loads. Unfortunately, relatively few were made before the company closed its doors. Some of the current Italian side-by-sides also can handle steel. But it is the over/unders that continue to predominate in today’s double-gun market. Most are steel-shot compatible and fitted with screw-in choke tubes. Italy offers the greatest selection, but the American-made Ruger Red Label 3” 12 can handle a steady diet of steel, too, and is America’s lone surviving magnum duck double.

Shots at tall ducks began in earnest during the mid-to-late 1800s when Fred Kimble began swinging his Tonks 6-gauge single-shot, with his newly created “choke” boring, on birds skimming the timber-tops in the Illinois River Valley. His duck-killing feats became legend. Beginning in the 1920s, Nash Buckingham used John Olin’s new Western 3” Super-X 12-gauge shells in his 32-inch Burt Becker-bored Super Fox to send 1-3/8-ounce of copper-coated No. 4s to extreme heights. But with today’s reduced duck numbers and bag limits, waterfowlers no longer have the opportunity to hone their long-range shooting skills on endless flights of passing birds. When live callers were outlawed, waterfowlers learned how to set decoys and master duck calls to bring the birds in close for proper identification and less-awe-inspiring shots.

My Fox has honored me with a few memorable kills on the far edge of the decoy spread, but most of my shots are taken at less than 40 yards. It probably would make sense to open the right barrel of the Full-choked Fox to Modified or Improved Cylinder, but tradition cautions me to leave the barrels just as they are. On those days when everything works just right and the ducks slip in close enough to hit with a slingshot, I stand and let them backpedal 30 yards or more before I trigger the Fox.

Because of my old-school beliefs, I dislike electronic spinning-wing, bobbing and vibrating decoys as much as I do cell phones. It just seems downright disrespectful to disturb the tranquil beauty of the marsh with such annoying devices. If my decoy set and calling are insufficient to bring the ducks close for a clean shot, then I case my gun, salute the birds and try again another day. It is my way of connecting with that long line of waterfowlers who carved a conservation ethic out of a market-hunter mentality and chose to celebrate the resource with traditional tools and methods that honor the birds. Whenever I suspend a bunch of ducks over my decoys and take a drake or two with the Fox, I know that the birds were earned fairly.

When steel shot was first mandated in the early 1970s, I ring-bulged a beautiful Belgian Browning over/under and quickly retired my Parker, Model 21 and Fox doubles to the gun cabinet. I reluctantly purchased a Remington left-hand Model 1100, restocked it to fit and started taking ducks with surprising consistency and without worry. I have shot a lot of recoil-, inertia- and gas-operated autoloaders, but none were as pleasant as the 1100. Some shooters have dubbed the 1100 a “one-shot automatic” or a Model 550 (because it goes off only half the time), but after nearly four decades of pounding steel through my 1100 at ducks and lead at clay targets, I have yet to experience a failure to feed or eject. Of course, I am as religious about cleaning the gun after every use as I am my doubles, which might help explain its dependable performance.

As much as I enjoyed shooting the Remington, however, it still seemed too modern a tool for hunting ducks. As lead-like, non-toxic shotshell alternatives were developed, I reached for my old doubles once again. My atavism has caused more than a few smirks and looks of disbelief from hunters carrying high-tech semi-autos, but this has only strengthened my resolve to stay in touch with the old ways.

Pumps and autos dominate the marsh today and, thanks to John Browning, they, too, have a rich waterfowling heritage. The Model 97 pump and Auto-5 quickly became hunter favorites around the turn of the 19th Century. Their modern counterparts are even more versatile and reliable, though to my eye their camo and black composite stocks make the guns look more like paramilitary weapons than sporting arms. Not that I'm a purist, but rust-blued steel and hand-rubbed walnut just seem right, even though they require more care during the season. In some ways three shots are better than two, but I don’t feel handicapped in the duck blind when I call my shots correctly. When I do err, the strong ejectors on the old Fox clear the way for quick reloading.

I like oversize decoys boldly painted. Herter’s Suc Ducks are my preference. Their keel-less, hollow bodies move enticingly on the water with the slightest breeze, especially on the secluded potholes I like to hunt. They also work well when field hunting. And a bag full won’t keep you on the chiropractor’s couch. Their turnable heads add realism to the set, and because mine are burlap-wrapped, they hold paint well, giving them a subtle, natural look that seems to satisfy the ducks. Combined with good calling, they help me compete with the spinning-wing fans, who have a definite advantage over traditional duck hunters and the ducks. But I have never measured the thrill of the hunt by the size of the bag at day’s end. A limit of ducks, though deeply satisfying, is not as important as how the hunt is conducted. When a sun-drenched marsh is animated by a biting-cold northwest wind, with cotton-ball clouds moving high overhead and shining greenheads hooking on my calls and looking over my blocks, folding a brace with the long-eared Fox just seems an altogether fitting and proper way to take ducks.

Before the Madison Avenue marketing crowd made camouflage a designer statement, my uncle wore a tan canvas coat and hat when he guided in the goose pits of southern Illinois during the ’50s and ’60s. I never once saw him spook incoming birds. They must have liked the canvas too. When the geese did flare, it was usually because one of my uncle’s fidgety camouflaged clients moon-faced them. I wear mostly olive drab waxed-cotton coats and hats into the blind. So far my garb hasn’t flared any ducks either, but my eager face has. Ducks don’t miss much from their vantage points, so any movement in the open will spoil the ruse. There truly are some camo patterns today that defy detection by bleary-eyed hunters and beady-eyed waterfowl. But if you are in a well-brushed blind, keep still, and wear something less than day-glow orange, you won’t spook ducks.

After patterning my Fox at 40 yards with various ammunition and shot sizes, I discovered that the old double prefers an ounce of RST Nice Shot No. 5s in 2-1/2” hulls moving at around 1,200 fps. An ounce of 2-3/4” Kent Tungsten Matrix No. 6s also patterns nicely in the Full-choke barrels. When the ducks are working close, I put No. 6s in the right barrel and No. 5s in the left. Because most modern shotshells have protective plastic shot cups, choke is not as critical as it once was when fiber wads and lead shot prevailed. With steel shot these plastic cups are somewhat like shooting a slug, making tighter chokes unnecessary.

Before steel, my goose-hunting uncle used his Improved Cylinder Remington Model 11 to kill quail with No. 8s and 40-plus-yard Canadas with No. 4s. But since screw chokes are all the rage now and offer more constrictions than a corset salesman, hunters can home in on just about any part of the sky they desire, especially when the ducks are passing high or swinging wide. Combine them with 12-gauge 3” or 3-1/2” high-velocity shotshells stuffed with 1-½ ounces of large pellets, and some impressive long-range shots can be made. An indication of just how far we’ve come is that before all of the magnum fever of the 1920s and today, an ounce of shot was considered standard for the 10 gauge. Even with my modest 12-gauge loads for the Fox, I never have felt under-gunned in the marsh—and I have taken ducks at ranges that would put a twinkle in Mr. Nash’s eye. I also shoot these comparatively light loads because I don’t want to hammer the life out of my treasured double . . . and my aging shoulder.

The world has changed considerably since the first hammerless American doubles were taken to the marsh more than a hundred years ago. But their nostalgic grace and charm still beckon like the calls of migrating geese and ducks winging into marshes in the evening twilight. These vintage doubles reflect a duck hunting heritage that would be sadly diminished without them. It is reason enough for me to finish out my seasons with the centenarian Fox, along with the hope that some day it will pass into the hands of another hunter who appreciates doubles and will proudly carry on its waterfowling tradition.

(To see this article in its original presentation, download the Shooting Sportsman app for iPads and receive the May/June 2013 issue as a free trial.)

Richard Grozik resides in western Montana, where he pursues ruffed grouse on the mountainsides and Huns, sharptails, pheasants and ducks on the prairies and potholes. A former senior staffer for Ducks Unlimited, the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation, Quail Unlimited, and the Friends of NRA, Grozik is retired and says he is happy to be living in “the last best place.” He is the author of the books Game Gun and Birdhunter as well as several articles on shotguns and shooting.