Timber and Tradition: The Start of Duck Season in the Delta

A reflection on flooded timber, faithful dogs, and the timeless rhythm of Mississippi duck season

The first cold snap in Mississippi brings about an air of change that you simply can’t ignore. The leaves are quickly falling from their branches, the mosquitoes have finally given up, and every agricultural field you see is starting to hold that thin layer of sheet water. For most people, these things signal the telltale signs that winter is near. But for others, those who spend more time thinking about decoy spreads than their holiday plans, these changes mark the beginning of duck season.

Opening day isn’t just a date circled on the calendar every year; it’s a deep-rooted feeling inside you. It’s loading up the boat in the dark, the sound of water separating as you make your way to the trees, and watching your breath rise like thick smoke as you take the final sips of early morning, freshly-brewed gas station coffee. Your dog is pacing back and forth in the back seat because somehow they, too, know this morning is different. The trees seem to glow as headlamp light bounces off the water, and in an instant, the start of the 60-day countdown begins—all before the world wakes up.

Every duck hunter has their favorite place to hunt: rice fields, oxbow lakes, river blinds, dry fields—the list goes on. But if I had to choose one environment to hunt for the rest of my life, it would be the flooded timber in the Mississippi Delta. Timber hunts aren’t about big skies and wide-open water. They’re tight. Intimate. You find yourself standing in waist-deep water among massive oak and cypress trees that have seen generations of hunters before you. The ducks? They aren’t circling in the sky a mile high, they’re weaving between branches, dropping into holes under trees as if they were ghosts.

The light comes in slowly in those timber holes. It starts off as undefined shapes, then turns to reflections in the water, and finally, that warm golden glow hits the wide base of the cypress trees and turns the whole woods into a cathedral. Observing mallards backpedal through a hole in the limbs with your dog right beside you—waiting, watching, and anticipating you yelling their name and sending them on a retrieve—that’s something you never forget.

Personally, the dogs have become one of my favorite duck hunting staples. As a photographer, I yearn for opportunities to capture a dog working for its purpose and passion. An avid hunter can duck hunt every day without a dog, but to me, they are what make chasing waterfowl something special. They seem to hold everything together, and when they make a retrieve, they do so with a passion that is ancient and pure.

Long before shooting light, these dogs are dialed in, knowing the routine better than we do. Sitting still, eyes locked on the early morning skyline, waiting for that first whistle of wings. They don’t care about getting a limit or what the season total numbers are at the end. They just work, because that is what they were made to do. So, no matter where you hunt, take care of your dog. Give them a warm spot in the boat, a dry towel back in the truck, and show them some extra love and attention. They will spend every ounce of energy for you, so the least we can do is return the favor.

If you’re just getting into duck hunting, it can feel overwhelming. Gear lists, calling, bird identification, it’s a lot. But a few simple tips can help you succeed even as a beginner. Scout more than you hunt: ducks go where they want, not where you wish. Feed, water, and weather will give you a better chance than any gear. Less calling is usually better: ducks that make it to Mississippi have heard it all. A soft feed chuckle, a little comeback call, or silence is often enough. Keep your gear simple: dry waders, a reliable shotgun, a few used decoys, and a light that won’t die at 4 a.m. are enough.

Respect the dog’s job: don’t shoot over their head, and give breaks in cold water—they tire faster than we think. Know the law and limits: seasons vary state to state; follow the rules and hunt responsibly.

Some mornings, you will knock down a full limit before the sun even clears the trees. Other days, you will stand in that cold water for hours without lifting your gun to your shoulder. Both of those days are worth it.

The heart of duck season isn’t just limits of greenheads on a strap—it’s being in the places where the world feels honest. It’s about watching your dog shiver with anticipation and hearing wings overhead as the sunrise just breaks the horizon. It’s coffee in the trees after setting up and laughter echoing through the cypress brake. Flooded timber in Mississippi will always be my favorite place on earth to hunt. Not because it’s easy, but because it reminds me of all the reasons why I fell in love with this sport in the first place.

***

About the Author

Oxford, Mississippi-based Kyle DeVazier is a professional brand strategist and content producer who has worked in digital media for over a decade, primarily with photography and videography. His camera has taken him all across the globe in pursuit of professional growth and visual storytelling. Kyle has worked in the outdoor, real estate, agriculture, luxury travel, and sports industries; his editorial work has been featured in multiple lifestyle and outdoor-focused print publications including Delta Magazine, Mississippi Magazine, Porch + Prairie Magazine, and Red & Rio. He has produced advertising assets for Esquire and Men's Health as well as visual content that can be seen across all digital platforms including web, social, display ads, and television. His passion for the outdoors and connecting people to it is what continues to drive his work today.