Happy, Happy, Happy: My Life and Legacy as the Duck Commander

my career as acommercial fisherman. Pa and my sons were right alongside me as I started my fishing business. For Pa, it was a return to a way of life close to that of his childhood and my younger years at Aunt Myrtle’s farm. At first he actively hunted and fished the bountiful area surrounding our property; then, as he grew older, he gravitated more to taking care of the garden he’d started. Most of our food, from spring to fall, came from Pa’s garden. Our meat came from fish we caught or from ducks, squirrels, and deer we shot. We usually ate fish three times a week.
    Pa’s first garden on the edge of the slough flooded every year or so. The floodwaters enriched the soil but sometimes delayed planting, so he began another level plot farther up the hill, which stayed dry even in the wettest of years. As Pa grew older, however, he began to slow down, and his interests became narrower. He spent his later years close to home, tending the fire in the iron stove that heated their house and playing dominoes and other games with his family and grandchildren. He enjoyed the role of patriarch of his large extended family, which numbered more than sixty during his lifetime, and he even bragged at one point that he was the oldest Robertson of his line left.
    Pa helped me with projects around the place, such as building a boat launch and dock, house repairs, and a multitude of tasks that kept the place going. Both families were bent on making our lives successful. It was Granny who suggested a drop box atthe boat launch we built, where customers using it could deposit payment of a small fee. The honor system is still in place—the suggested fee is two dollars—and the boat launch is used daily by those launching their boats onto Cypress Creek and the Ouachita River.
    Once I began fishing full-time, it didn’t take long for the business to become successful. Before too long, I was making more money than I did as a teacher. The fishing was profitable from the beginning and grew as I made enough money to buy more nets and trotlines. I caught about sixty thousand pounds of fish—thirty tons—the first year, and that’s about what we averaged annually.

    Before too long, I was making more money fishing than I did as a teacher.

    We caught a cascade of catfish, buffalo, gaspergou (freshwater drum), alligator gar, and a number of white perch. The catfish were worth about seventy cents a pound, the buffalo thirty cents, and the market always determined the gar’s price. More gar are caught and sold in Louisiana than any other freshwater fish. Fish brings a higher price during cold weather; in warm weather almost everybody in Louisiana fishes, and the surplus catch goes into the commercial market, driving prices down.
    The white perch, or crappie, are game fish and cannot be sold. They are lagniappe and usually ended up on our dinnertable. The man we sold our fish to at the market ate only the poorer parts of the fish, the parts he couldn’t sell. But that wasn’t my style. I fed my family the best of my catch and sent the rest to market. My selectivity continues today, as I carefully pick the best of the ducks killed on a hunt, usually teal or wood ducks. If I’m doing all the work, why should someone else enjoy the pick of the litter?
    I decided early on that if my boys were going to eat the fish, they were going to help catch them, too. Setting out the nets wasn’t too much of a task for me, but getting the fish from my boat, up the hill, and into my truck took some serious work. When it rained, it was even more arduous because the hillside was slick and muddy. After one catch, I was slipping and sliding all over the hill, struggling to carry a heavy tub to my truck.
    When I got to the house, the boys were all there. Kay was getting ready to take the fish to town and sell them. We did this about two or three times a week; it was the only money we made. The boys usually went with her and always looked forward to it. I went in the house and said to them, “Y’all come over here and sit down for a few minutes. I want to explain something to you.
    “Y’all are fixing to go to the store,” I told them. “There will be bubble gum and shopping—y’all are going to have a big ol’ time. I want you to realize that all that money you’re going to spend is coming off those fish out there. You understand that?”
    “Yes, sir,” they answered quietly. They knew this talk was serious.
    “What I can’t figure out is,