As hunters, the word luck gets thrown around rather carelessly. If you shoot a band (luck), if you have a great hunt (luck), if you shoot something unique (luck). But behind all “luck” is a culmination of small events that quickly snowball into something much more. That is true for Caleb Frey, a lifelong waterfowler, taxidermist, and decoy carver. The below story is his recount of the day a hand-carved decoy decided to ride the current away from the spread and its ensuing lucky journey.
Caleb Frey:
I was duck hunting in Virginia with my friend Austin and brother Aaron. Like any other trip, I had taken a few of my hand-carved decoys to match some of the intended species. On the last day of the hunt, I placed a few scaup decoys. We harvested some bluebills, and I was able to pull some decoys onto the boat to get some pictures during the hunt. I always enjoy doing that, but I don’t do it often enough–primarily because we’re trying to hide, and the blinds are small. Another reason is that the decoys are out there to do their job, and if we bring them in, they aren’t doing that anymore.
Often, I enjoy good company in the blind or immersed in the hunt—calling, looking for birds, watching them decoy, or running a dog–and don’t always think to grab decoys. We successfully harvested the intended species, and there was ample time between flocks to sit back and admire the birds in the boat next to my blocks. Getting a picture of the decoy on this hunt made this just a little sweeter.
After a successful hunt, we were in good spirits, but we kept in mind the long drive home. So, we quickly packed up, grabbed the decoys, and began the boat ride back to the ramp. In the hustle of picking up, I thought I was missing a decoy, but I was second-guessing whether I brought 13 or 14 with me. Once the boat was loaded onto the trailer, we talked about the hunt a bit and then said our “thanks” and “see you laters.”
We hit the road, and on the way home, it kept nagging at me that I, indeed, had lost a decoy. A few had drifted in the current, but we thought we had counted how many we had and had picked that many back up. So everything seemed in order, but I couldn’t help thinking I had brought 14 along. The decoy bag was full plus two, but Aaron had a bird or two on top as well, so with being a little rushed to get home, I just wasn’t sure.
A few days later, I got a Facebook message from a random person named Brian asking if I had lost a decoy. I said I had, and we exchanged numbers and spoke on the phone. He explained that an older gentleman named Steve Kellum, an avid waterman and net maker, had found my decoy caught up in his rockfish net and saw my signature on it. Steve was a duck hunting machine back in the day, so he really appreciated the decoy. He thought he’d ask a few guys he knew who hunted in the area, and Brian was one of them. Brian was determined to find the owner, so he searched high and low for different names he thought my signature could be. It’s almost a miracle in itself that he ended up finding me based on that! I do try to sign them legibly, though.
Was it luck that I lost the decoy or luck that it found its way home? It’s crazy to me that the decoy didn’t end up out on the ocean somewhere, never to be seen again, but that it found its way into a fishing net and that it could be traced back to me.
We were going to try to meet up, but schedules didn’t allow it, so he shipped it to me. When I tried to pay for it, he refused. It’s not every day you meet people of that quality and I’m proud to now call him my friend. These little things can really do a lot to restore one’s outlook on humanity. At times, I can get a little down when I look around at all the things going on in the world today. However, when you focus on the good in people, your perspective can really change. Brian and I hope to get together next season to do some duck hunting, and I truly look forward to that.
