Bayou Metro
Public hunting ground at Arkansas' Bayou Meto as crowded as it is good
There were only six trucks backing boats into Bayou Meto via the Long Pond ramp on a cold December morning in central Arkansas.
The trip in, stops at gas stations — almost everything had been free of traffic, which is a rare occurrence for the Arkansas Game and Fish-managed public hunting ground nicknamed "Bayou Metro."
To Mickey Graham, who's been hunting the area since the 1960s and guided there in the '70s and '80s before guiding was outlawed in the '90s, the reason was simple.
"The ducks are gone," Graham said. "I've seen it so bad, the parking lot is packed and cars were stacked one after another on the road into the launch ramp."
Graham slid his boat off the trailer, raising the motor so it wouldn't get caught in the shallow water beside the ramp.
"Count your many blessings," he said as he threw a bag of decoys on top of his gun in the floor of his boat. "Most of the times down here, it's a madhouse. It's like a freaking Wal-Mart parking lot."
"If the Game and Fish is going to try a regulation, they're going to start it here," Graham said, going through the litany of rules and regulations specific to the area.
Most of the trees were exposed, with just the bottom 3 feet of the trunk under water. The boat paths were open, but Graham often had to slow down for logs that had floated in the way. A huge dent on the right part of his bow represented the rooted tree he didn't slow down for.
"It's always been the public shooting grounds of the scatters," he said as he slowed down and left the paths for the forest, using a spotlight as his guide. "Keep your arms and head inside the boat."
After bouncing from tree to tree for 15 minutes, he finally stopped and stepped out of the boat. In front of him stood what is considered an opening at Bayou Meto — a 25 by 50-yard section without any trees.
"I brought some guys here from Tennessee once and they asked me, "Where in the hell are we hunting?'" Graham said. "Welcome to Bayou Meto, boys."
Bayou Meto ("by-o me-duh") is the largest state-owned public shooting ground in the country and is primarily known for its excellent duck hunting.
"All the way around this thing is private duck hunting, so there's probably over 100,000 acres of duck hunting just right here in this general area," Graham said.
History of this area is sparse, but the little history available shows that the only thing Bayou Meto is suited for is wildlife, especially ducks.
The reserve was part of 7,686,575 acres of land transferred to the State of Arkansas under the Swamp Land Acts of 1849 and 1850. Most of the land was sold at prices that ranged from 50 cents to $1.25 an acre. The proceeds from the sale of the land were supposed to be used to construct levees and drainage districts for flood control.
Seventy years later, for better and worse, the drainage districts had created one of the most productive agricultural regions in the country. They allowed the clearing of the lands that are now mostly rice and soybean fields.
Central to the Mississippi Flyway, the ducks come for the food and rest. And where ducks go, hunters follow. And when the ducks are in Bayou Meto, Graham said it gets more than a little crazy.
"You get out there in the woods and it's like World War III and you're thinking 'What am I doing down here?'" he said. "There's no way you can work a duck. There's just so many people."
About four minutes after Graham settled his boat and started throwing out the decoys in his spot, a light from another boat lit up the trees.
"We beat him to the spot," Graham said. "That's the thing about Bayou Meto. If you're not going to be first, you might as well be last, because there's most likely going to be someone in your spot."
The boat turned around, followed the path for about another 300 yards and stopped.
"They're setting up downwind from us," Graham said. "We're going to be fighting them for ducks all morning."
He was right. Circling birds being called by Graham and hunting buddy Jerry Cunningham were stolen by the group a couple times before a pair of mallards decided to rest in Graham's hole a little after 7:30.
Most of the shots were blocked by the trees, but one mallard drake dropped.
"It's pretty easy to tell where I'm at," Cunningham said. "Stuff's going to die."
More than 20 flocks of 15 to 20 mallards — 200 to 300 in all — suddenly started circling the sky and duck calls started ringing in from all around. For 15 minutes Graham, Cunningham and Duck Trek photographer James Overstreet worked the ducks as they circled, trying to decide which call sounded sweetest and which spot looked like the best place to rest.
Two mallards, a drake and a hen dropped into Graham's hole, but the group passed, hoping one of the larger flocks would come in behind. They didn't.
"That's common," Graham said. "You sit here and get nothing for hours and then comes the group that makes your day. If just one of those would have come in, we'd have filled our limit and been on our way home."
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Cunningham said it wasn't a limit he was looking for.
"If one of those two mallards were banded, I would have broken this party up real quick," he said. "There wouldn't have been any thoughts about a group."
The rest of the morning was one fight for ducks after another. And if they weren't called away, close shots would spook a group of would-be ducks away. That's life in a crowded public hunting area in Arkansas, even on a non-crowded day.
The group left the woods at 11 a.m. with just three ducks.
"This place is as unpredictable as any place I've ever hunted," Graham said. "A duck has his suitcase packed at all times. He can get up and leave at any moment, and I have seen them do it.
"But when Bayou Meto is right, it's some of the best duck hunting in the world."
