Waterfowl Haven

The above photo was published in "Images of the Hunt" by R. K. Sawyer

The Call of the Marsh By Marie Hughes  

There’s a call that rings through the ages 

As timeless as sun, moon, and stars, 

That captures the heart of the hunter 

Who yields to the Call of the Marsh.  

Its song echoes forth in the darkness 

Long before dawn shines her light, 

Rousing the hunter from dreamland 

With the enchanting song of the night. 

It vibrates in waves through the darkness 

As the frogs chant their waking refrain 

Then the crickets join in with the chorus 

Bewitching the hunter again.  

It whispers to those who will hear 

it The mystical song that it sings. 

Its melody floats on the morning mist 

In the movement of waterfowl wings.  

The hunter fades into the marsh grass 

Before dawn kisses darkness goodbye 

He inhales the fragrance around him 

Now content, releases a sigh.  

(Some info taken from Trinity River Delta article)    

Hunters in the 1800s found a pristine delta wilderness at Trinity River Delta.  With its headwaters just a few miles south of the Red River in Northern Texas, the Trinity River travels 400 miles before its fresh water terminates at Turtle Bay.  There it branches out like fingers creating Cotton Lake, Lake Charlotte, Lost Lake, Mud Lake, Turtle Bay, and Wet Marsh Pond.  

This area was a paradise for waterfowl that fed on the lush aquatic plants in the area and the seeds of the rice and cotton fields.   

“There were plenty of white and Canada geese,” said Cove guide, Damon McKay, “All gunners had to do was sit down by a log and wait for ‘em to come in, they’d come in and light p’ert near on you if you didn’t move.”  There was also an abundance of Snipe during those years.  

Getting to the hunting areas was no easy task in those days.  The closest bridge crossing the Trinity, before the mid-1900s, was at Liberty, so most hunters crossed on horse-drawn wooden ferries and some rented cypress-plank skiffs at Joseph’s Store on the west bank of Old River. But the hunt was worth the time and effort required to get to the blinds, as the waterfowl was prolific and hunters knew they would go home happy, reaching their limit of ducks or geese.  

All that changed though, said Johnnie Dutton of Cove.  “There was lots of ducks and geese back in the day because this was rice field country,” said Johnnie, “They would land 7 or 800 at a time down by the Bay because of the sandy beaches.  I’ve gone through two or three winters now and I’ve never heard a goose holler.  They don’t come this way anymore.  The ducks are still here but the geese don’t come here anymore.  They do in Winnie because they do rice farming over there.”  

“They use to rice farm all around Cove, but in ’56 it came to an end when the salt water hit.”  I asked Johnnie if that was because they put in the dam at Livingston, and he said yes.  I told him Evelyn Standley, of Smith Point, told me before they put in the Livingston Dam the Trinity River ran full force and kept the salt water pushed out.  She said there was only one small area where salt water could get in because when she first arrived in Smith Point, in 1927, Roll Over Pass did not exist and there was an oyster reef that ran from the area near where Rollover Pass is now around to the Vingt-te-un Islands.  The reef was a natural saltwater barrier.  Evelyn said at that time the water around Smith Point was fresh water until they removed the oyster reef to build the county roads and Interstate 10.  Once the reef was removed the saltwater was allowed to encroach farther upstream. The Livingston dam held back the Trinity diminishing its force thereby weakening its ability to keep the saltwater at bay.  Johnnie confirmed Evelyn was correct.  He said once the saltwater killed out the rice and cotton fields the geese just quit coming. The saltwater issue was finally resolved, but by then selling the West Chambers County land became more profitable than raising rice.   

Johnnie told me to bring my husband, Max, who used to work with him at Targa and I could get some pictures of his decoys.  He said his shelves are lined with them and he enjoys just sitting and looking at them.  He said he also has a shed full of them.  

When Johnnie was little his family ate ducks twice a day in winter.  That was before the days of household refrigerators, and they hung their ducks outside in tow sacks that kept the flies off.    

Earl Porter of Barbers Hill once said that when Johnnie and his dad and brothers went hunting, they all shot different size shot.  If they were all in the same blind and shooting at the same duck/goose they would examine the kill and whoever had the most of his shot in the bird got the duck or goose!  

Johnnie told me that duck and goose hunting was a different style of life.  He said some folks enjoy going to the mall or other things, but he enjoyed hunting.  “We’d get there before daylight and put out our decoys,” he said, “and the ducks would come around cupping their wings as they came in, it’s just a different kind of life, it’s a pleasure.”  

Johnnie said his oldest brother, Avery Lynn Dutton worked on a crew boat owned by Frable McCary, father of Connie Graubaugh, in the late 40s-early 50s.  They would make runs up the Trinity to check oil wells.  On one trip they found a cedar tree and using a crane managed to get it on board the boat.  On their way home they drove it in the ground in the Old River.  It still stands today on the South side on I-10 as you get on the Interstate from FM 565.   

Johnnie said, “They turned it upside down and drove it in the ground.  It is still there because it was cedar, and cedar lasts a long time.”  When I asked Johnnie why they did it he said, “That was before the bridge went in and they used it as a channel marker.”  Johnnie said he was not much more than ten years old when they did it, so he was not involved in placing it there.