The Oxbow

The Brazos River holds a special place in the hearts of many Texans, but for some, it is more than just a river. It is a living memory of part of their youth, a place where they spent countless hours on an oxbow lake made from the river changing course sometime in the 1930's to 40's.

Growing up in the 1990's, the oxbow lake on the Brazos River was their playground. Bonded by shared adventures, the two would often sneak away from their daily responsibilities to harvest the influx of migratory waterfowl that used this oxbow as their home. The oxbow was a source of excitement and discovery, a place where time seemed to slow down.

When they planned their return trip, both felt a mix of anticipation and nostalgia. Would the oxbow still hold the same magic? Would it look the same after all these years? Their journey upriver was not just a physical trip but a passage back to simpler times.

The Journey Upriver

Setting out early in the morning before dawn, the friends followed the path along the Brazos River. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of Brazos clay, willow trees, and river water. As they moved upriver, the landscape gradually changed, revealing the "spot" of the oxbow lake nestled among the trees.

The oxbow lake had always been a favorite spot for duck hunting. Its waters were home to countless wood ducks coming out of the sandhills nearby to forage and roost making it an ideal place for the young men to test their skills. The bag often also produced teal, mallards, pintails, chili-dippers, blackies, reds, canvasbacks, and the occasional snow or speck. Now adults, they brought along their guns and decoys, eager to relive those moments.

Along the way, they shared stories of their childhood exploits—times when they limited out in 30 minutes, or the thrill of filming deer for research purposes. The river seemed to listen, reflecting their memories in its gentle ripples.

Rediscovering the Oxbow Lake

Arriving at the oxbow, the friends were struck by how much had changed and how much had stayed the same. The water was still clearer, the banks lined with willows, and the scent of the dead blood weed was strong . The familiar stillness of the morning was present.

They set up their blind and settled into the rhythm of proper placement of decoys. The peaceful environment allowed them to reconnect not only with nature they grew up with, but with the "synergy" only formed by experience and know how. It was almost first light....

Backside...

Their day on the oxbow offered more than just nostalgia. It was a chance to reflect on the passage of time and the importance of passing on tradition.. The oxbow had witnessed their growth, their challenges, and their triumphs.

First light is 30 mins away and the stillness is deep. Suddenly, the wood duck distress call overtakes all sounds and the wind whistling through the wings of the tree ducks startle the two as they get buzzed with not enough light to see targets yet. "Backside.." said calmly. "Group of six, let 'em land, turning towards us"

The "spot" chosen by the two was unique. The walk from the river was short and the "end of the oxbow lake" provided plenty of cover for concealment.

First light was upon them, as the ducks swam around confused giving the normal hello "chirp" they do when meeting new ducks while on their voyage. "Hey Duck.." said one too the other, and the mission of at least bagging a limit of wood ducks was complete. Just like that the "old days" had returned.

Light continued to show itself as the world woke up... Crickets... "Lets give it till 9 and then get out of here before..... Gaddys two o'clock. Single quack. Lets give it to them." The two started calling like only they could do, and to their surprise.... more quacking. As the fog was lifting to blue sky... the two realized what was going on and produced sounds that no duck would turn away from. The ending result of a mallard drake and hen.

The experience highlighted how places from our past can serve as anchors, grounding us in our identity. Revisiting the oxbow lake reminded them to cherish the simple joys and to make time for the people and places that shape us.

Carrying the Memories Forward

As the sun began to reach mid morning, the two friends packed up their gear, feeling a renewed sense of accomplishment. The journey upriver to the oxbow lake had rekindled their youth experiences and deepened their appreciation for the "lake" the Brazos River left behind.

They left with the hope to return, knowing that the oxbow would always be there, waiting to welcome them back. Their story is a reminder that some places hold more than water, trees, and ducks—they hold the stories of our lives.

Whether you grew up near a river, a lake, or any special place, taking the time to revisit it can bring clarity and joy. It connects us to our roots and to the people who shared those moments that defined success when it came to waterfowling.