OLD TOWN – A morning that served as an introduction to duck hunting served up many lessons – the most remarkable of which was that strange law of the sky.

“There will be no ducks, no ducks, no ducks. Then all of a sudden: DUUUCCCKS!,” explained Rep. Matt Dunlap of Old Town, chair of the House Fish and Wildlife committee, avid duck hunter, and my unofficial guide last Thursday.

This well-warn maxim was no clichT or lost promise. After four and a half hours on an island in the Penobscot River (made possible by a $40 yearly permit purchased from the Penobscot Indian Nation), the lonesome ducks that flew by in small threesomes were upstaged by a flock of some 20 whistlers. Serving as an air show finale, they passed directly overhead, their wings singing like wind chimes.

Dunlap went from a relaxed state, seated comfortably on his camouflaged crate, to an eager stalker. He raised his Remington, coaxed the birds… then let them fly by. No shot was needed. All the “waiting” was already worthwhile.

Beyond the “purpose” of the hunt (getting a duck), the sport lends itself to several handy lessons, both in regard to hunting and life. There were no birds bagged Thursday, but plenty of lessons brought home, the kind you hear are obtained from hours spent behind a duck blind.

The conversation ran like the river, starting with a story of The Boat, purchased from an 86-year-old grandfather in Alabama and retrieved by a Maine duck hunter willing to drive 20-plus hours nonstop to collect the craft.

Talk then wound around to the shared lessons in college sports, the lost frugality of those raised after the Depression, the amazing tales of a southern mother who was a marksman by 14.

From there the topics extended to other worthy subjects, including all the precautions a first-time duck hunter should take.

Wearing a lifejacket?

“You can,” Dunlap offered, “but it won’t help.”

In other words, don’t fall in, or if you do, get out and get home quick.

The other thing a rookie should be wary of is all the equipment.

Dunlap admitted that with so much gear to mind, he’s forgotten his ammunition, save for what errant shells he found in his coat pocket.

Worse than that was the story he told of a hunter who packed up his blind, decoys, ammunition, seat, boat, sailed off to his truck on the opposite shore… only to realize he left his dog behind.

“There’s a lot of stuff to remember,” Dunlap said in the man’s defense.

Still. Your dog?

Indeed. The lengthy list of equipment means even man’s best friend can get lost in the shuffle. Duck hunting is a wonderland for gadget junkies, but a little overwhelming for one used to the practice of buy-a-bike-and-go.

After three rounds of explaining what is needed, Dunlap finally broke it down to the essentials:

. The gun (because you’re not doin’ anything without that), which will run you about $300 and up;

. Ammunition (which doesn’t come cheap, either);

. A good waterproof, warm-weather coat that, as Dunlap says, is not “disco,” (ie. camouflage motif);

. Boots, gloves and a hat along the same lines;

. Decoys and a blind;

. And, last but not least, a used boat or canoe;

Total price: roughly $1,000 if you’re lucky, and a bargain-hunter, so to speak.

But, hey, factor in the excitement, the adventure, the front-row seats in nature, and the ability to delight a dad who loves duck, and you more than break even.

Probably the most addicting aspect of duck hunting is how relaxing it is to study the state’s multitude of birds. It’s a great excuse to watch and learn.

Thinking of this Thursday, I was reminded of a friend who is a Maine Audubon Society guide. As Dunlap and I watched mallards and mergansers, teals and diving ducks – not to mention those happy whistlers – I found myself chatting of this Audubon expert, how he would have enjoyed this, how he’s even got a license plate that says, “AUKS.”

“Those are birds hunting [decimated],” Dunlap said.

Oh.

Suddenly it came clear with the kind of shock delivered by that 4 a.m. alarm that this friend probably would not have shared my appreciation for this invigorating activity.

Yet, as Dunlap noted, the morning offered an experience even a bird-watcher would envy.

After the wind had kicked up, not long before the whistlers arrived, a small flock passed close enough to stop the conversation. As they were watched flying down river, Dunlap ordered the rookie to look up river to a more magnificent sight, spectacular even for late viewers.

A mighty monster with a white head and six-to-seven-foot wing span was crossing the river not 30 yards away.

“Tell your friend about the bald eagle we saw,” Dunlap would say later.

With that, the closure of the brief outing felt like the return from a week’s vacation.

Sitting behind a duck blind in the wee, cold hours, there was the awareness you don’t get during a normal day at the office. There were the lessons, the sound of the river, and the sight of the sun hitting the banks of the Penobscot.

Not to mention those whistlers.

Deirdre Fleming covers outdoor sports and recreation for the NEWS. She can be reached at 990-8250 or dfleming@bangordailynews.net.