At a time of year when most rational hunters are pointing their trucks some combination of north and west to chase early season ducks, we are heading the other direction. Somewhere between the southern shore of Lake Okeechobee and the northern reaches of the mighty Everglades lies a promised land. An early-teal mecca at the terminus of our continental Atlantic flyway for all those less rational hunters willing to endure the September gauntlet of South Florida duck hunting.
Mosquitoes are not uniquely-Floridian, and any early season hunter is well acquainted with their own local brand. Without exaggeration, however, the mosquitoes that inhabit the wetlands of South Florida are of prehistoric proportions, both in size and in quantity. They are unrelenting and seem to be fueled by Thermacell smoke, rather than deterred by it. If your insect repellent bottle reads “not safe for use on skin,” it just might stand a chance at repelling a few. Clouds of them in the pre-dawn light could pass for small birds buzzing above the horizon, and they leave you pondering with great reverence what the Native Americans must have endured in the swamps long before Deep Woods OFF! was invented. All said, I still may not have done this abundance of insects justice in their description.
If you find yourself unbothered by mosquitoes, it might be the alligators and the heat that make
you think twice before heading to the blind. The heat index makes its daily climb to triple digits
during early teal season, just as it has been doing for several months leading up to the opener.
The air is thick, not just with mosquitoes, but with moisture. Even in the best pair of uninsulated, breathable waders, sweat will collect in a puddle at the bottom of your boots, and you’ll wonder if you’re any drier for wearing them. You’ve also got to mind the ancient reptiles that call these wetlands home. The biggest alligators stick to deeper water in the connecting rivers and creeks, but the rim ditches surrounding the shallow water impoundments are perfectly adequate habitat as the seasonal water level rises. Three- and four-foot alligators can be persuaded out of your blind without much effort, but if a nine-footer beats you to your hole that morning, it’s best to move on to your back-up plan.
Some folks may have been thoroughly dissuaded by this point, but the ones who haven’t will reap the rewards. South Florida offers world-class sunrises over its wetlands, marshes, and cattle ranches, made better with teal by the thousands when the migration aligns with our September season. These vast expanses of wetlands often serve as the last major resting area before these birds migrate out of the country for the winter, with an abundance of all the food, water, and cover they will need to prepare for that flight. The bugs and reptiles and heat will slip to the back of your mind, and the sound of wings whistling overhead as the first daylight streams through the willow trees and bulrush will remind you exactly why you endure these early season challenges. Through all the sweating and mosquito swatting, you’ll embrace that warm welcome back to the duck season you’ve been daydreaming about since January.
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