Vintage Duck Calls

Bringing back a bygone era of nostalgia with handcrafted, vintage duck calls.
    I’ve always loved the crisp, cool morning in wild spaces in pursuit of deer and ducks.  The sound of the forest awakening, watching the sun crack the horizon and those beautiful sounds of whistling wings at first light…do something to the soul that can’t be undone.  There is this deep primal connection that is immediately recognized.  Many which have come before us, heard, sensed and answered her call and were drawn by her allure.  These majestic creatures of wing and hoof have captured us and captivated our thoughts.

Our ancestors knew the connection in a measure most of modern man will never know.  To such depth was the connect, that they contemplated to the point of development and engineering the means whereby they might actively communicate with creatures of wing.  Ducks captivated their lives and pushed them to create a way whereby they would be even more connected.  Somewhere between this deep primal connect with wild spaces and the need to have ducks move closer to the gun, we’ve developed the duck call.  Our forefathers fell into the same mixing of the waters we’ve found ourselves standing; deep connection to wild spaces and the beautiful ducks which grace her waterways fulfilling a oneness deep in our souls,  where we’re just enamored by the grace and majesty of it all and would rather just admire it in that form.  Yet on the other hand, the food web and need to eat runs deeper.  It’s a mixed water.

Every era sees a techno advance, if that’s what they desire to call it, yet this call and connection remains.  Modernity has added many layers to the outdoor connection  through the years and product ads herald so loudly and obnoxiously that many feel under privileged, under geared and some flat out kicked out of the game.  The companies continue to push ‘advance’ to such a point that if we aren’t holding x,y,z than we’re under-geared. 

I want a return…a return to an era when life was simpler, days were longer, friendships remained a lifetime and duck days were just that.  Days which weren’t filled with all the advancement yet the heart of man was found full. 

I’ll never forget the days of young when I first found myself standing in the middle of a hardwood’s swamp in a pair of a canvas waders which belonged to a friend’s dad.  They were sloppy, a little large and the duck calls which hung around my neck…well, let’s just say they were vintage.  I’ll never forget the magic of it all….that beaver swimming turbulently like a torpedo around both sides of my body, circling me three to four times attempting to figure out what I was…the whole time I was wondering what it was.  Only to see that beautiful little face pop up some 15 yards in front of me a couple of minutes later…

…in the midst of that, ducks started trickling in.  My heart flipped inside my chest.  Looking up through the tops of trees and seeing ducks descend on us was captivating to my young heart.  I can’t even recall if I even fired a shot that day, yet I clearly recall standing there in total amazement and bewilderment of it all.  The events were etched in the clay of my soul with great clarity.  I’m still bewildered some forty years later.  It was totally all vintage…yet more magical than anything created.

I’d like to revisit those days, as I do often, with some created wares…some vintage duck calls representative of not only that day but also of the eras of magic before my time.

I’m not here to popularize any particular call of the yesteryear or to become a Clyde Hancock, Tom Turpin, FA Allen, Phillip Olt or a JT Beckenhart.  I’m just here to revisit the vintage calls of old and bring to the table some for others to enjoy.  Hopefully they’ll be used to bring in magical moments, encapsulate a heart, etch a memory and leave the possessor in awe of the stamp.  

Whistling wings still restoreth thy soul.  ~chris

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