That I did dream about for only 20 years. Then I got wind of the trip my dad and his two buddies were planning. They said they were going to skip their yearly excursion one year and go to Argentina the next. Well you know who wasn't going to be left out of that deal? It was about to be on.

The logistics: It was a 2 hour flight from Houston to Miami, and then another 8 hours to Buenos Aires, Argentina which is an overnight trip on Aerolinias Argentinas. When we arrived in Buenos Aires at dawn, we drove thirty minutes to a smaller airport and got on one more smaller plane that took us to the duck hunting region about an hour later. All in all it was the longest trip I've ever been on and it went really well. All bags and guns made it with us and there weren't any hassles. Every airline, even the little ones, were more than willing and capable to handle me & my chair.

As soon as we arrived at the duck camp, they were already preparing our lunch, which in Argentina means beef. Some of the best beef I've ever tasted too. While we dined, the afternoon grew crisp and clear outside. We were in an old fishing village near a river and we eagerly broke bread with our new friends. Soon after we'd all take a well needed nap before starting on our first forray. I couldn't help but think about what was about to come. You hear so many stories about the hunting in Argentina that I could hardly contain my thoughts. So much had I seen and heard about this place, and now I was actually here. These were thoughts only a wingshooter in a new land could have I figured.

I awoke to the stumbling of hunters going through luggage and groggily collecting the things they had hauled 2000 miles. The essentials to every duck hunt. How many times have I been a part of this scene. Oh how familiar that is, always taking me back to the first hunts of my youth, the ones permanently etched in time and memory, all the warm thoughts & feelings & sounds & smells. Soon enough I was helped into a boat. Wide-eyed at every sight, I listened to the small otboard drone for 20 minutes. We pulled to the edge of the narrow river where a low bank lead to flooded estuaries on the other side.

That's where the ducks would be. And that's where we would be to cut them off when they returned from feeding in fields nearby. For some reason there a recent drought was concentrating the birds around these major waterways, and we were poised to take advantage.

I looked out in anticipation over the marshy flats that lay just over the bank. And a short roll later, my guide, Mauro, and my dad helped me set up as flocks of ducks were already coming by overhead. In fact, as soon as I loaded up (with lead shot since it's legal down there) I raised up on a pair and dropped them both. They turned out to be silver teal, a beautiful little duck that I'd never seen before. That would happen a lot that afternoon. Dad and I downed all kinds of ducks we'd never seen before, red shovelers, white-cheeked pintail, cinnamon teal, ring teal, rosy-billed pochards, yellow-billed pintail, and a slough of gorgeous whistling ducks.

Ducks poured in steady until we couldn't see anymore, and I didn't stop shooting until we couldn't see anymore, sometimes later.

It was an awesome hunt that can only be had in Argentina. It was like going back in time to the 20's in the U.S. when there was an endless supply of game and very few hunters.

Right - Dad is holding a cinnamon drake & a ring teal drake.

Click here to read about our dove hunting experience.