Vintage Duck Calls

Bringing back a bygone era of nostalgia with handcrafted, vintage duck calls.
    I’ve always loved the crisp, cool mornings in wild spaces in pursuit of deer and ducks.  The sound of the forest awakening, the sun cracking, along with the whistling wings at first light…do something to the soul that can’t be undone.  There is this deep primal connection.  Many which have come before us, heard, sensed and were drawn by her allure.  Majestic creatures of wing and hoof have captured and captivated for thousands of years.

Our ancestors knew a connection in measure most modern men will never know.  The depths drew them to deep contemplation, development and engineering of game calls were birthed.  The natural world captivated their lives and literally drew them into communication with.  Somewhere between the primal connect and the need to move ducks closer to gun, we’ve developed the duck call.  Our forefathers fell into the mixing of the waters we’ve found ourselves standing; deep connection to wild spaces and beautiful ducks gracing her airways.  Respect, admiration and awe on the one hand yet the need for food and nutrition on the other.  The food web runs deep in it’s own way.  It’s all a mixed water we live in.

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 loudly yet obnoxiously.  Many feel under- privileged, under geared and some flat out kicked out of the game.  The companies continue to push ‘advance, advance, 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 noise, chaos and 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 swamp in a pair of old canvas waders belonging 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 me, circling 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 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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