This article originally appeared in Wisconsin Waterfowl Association’s April 2020 Newsletter edition.
From Bruce Ross, WWA Executive Director: A couple of weeks ago, we began to receive some online donations in memoriam to Randy McCoy from Oshkosh. Randy passed away in early March, leaving a family and many, many friends, and colleagues from his work at Proctor and Gamble. While I didn’t know Randy personally, I always find it touching that a donor respects a person and their passion to such a degree they contribute funds to a group that helps to inspire such a passion in others.
When we we later received a check for several thousand dollars that represented the donations of several score of Randy’s friends and family, well… that was something very unique. Not so much the size of the donation, but that so many people wanted to honor Randy with a donation to WWA. I reached out to Randy’s friend, Brian Rumlow, noting that, “it’s clear that Randy’s life was well spent, having made such a profound impact on so many…” I wanted to know more about Randy, and offered Brian an opportunity to share some of Randy’s hunting memories with our readers. I expect you’ll see similar themes from your own duck hunting experiences, and regret, as I do, that you’ve missed the chance to know Randy.
The following article was submitted by Randy’s close friend and hunting partner, Brian Rumlow:
Randy McCoy
Randy’s passion for hunting began at a very young age, and like many he began with a BB gun and all the energy that a young boy had. Growing up in the country, a boy’s best friend was his BB gun. When he graduated to his first shotgun, it was a Remington 1100 bought by his father, Cliff. Cliff was a good shot and he was damned sure his son would be as well.
Randy told me the story many times about his dad with the hand thrower, throwing clays at a 90-degree angle until Randy was damn near in tears from missing so much. Cliff’s response was, “well, I know you can hit all the straight away ones, so now it’s time to challenge yourself.” Randy indeed did become a very good clay shooter and all that practice would be used in the years ahead with their pheasant hunting over the family’s two German Shorthairs.
In the years ahead, Randy became interested in duck hunting, and as anyone knows, it is truly an addicting sport. He hunted off and on for several years, and then one year he really got bit by the duck hunting bug.
I recall this like it was yesterday. Randy showed up at my house on opening day and said, “Okay, I am ready, let’s go.” I said, “hey, I told you to be here at 11:00, it’s 9:30, it doesn’t open until noon.” So, we killed some time and we went out at 11:55. I told him, “you sit in the front of the skiff and I will paddle you around and we will jump shoot this area.” He said, “sounds great.” We came around the first bend and I said, “here we go, some Woodies will most likely jump, so be ready.” They jumped, and Randy didn’t shoot. I said, “what the heck are you doing?” He said, “those were too far.” I said, “no, those were right there, you have to take those.” I took about twenty more strokes with my paddle and fifteen Woodies again got up, Randy fired two times and two ducks dropped stone dead. He said, and I can still hear it, “how’s that, is that better?” I can still see the grin on his face.
Randy, his brother (Rich) and I then started to hunt together every weekend. We went to North Dakota almost every year since 1999 and created enough memories out there to last a lifetime. From seven-minute limits, to ten-man limits in a field, to rain so hard it was coming down sideways, to card games that went until it was time to hunt the next morning without a wink of sleep.
Most of our hunting, though, was in Wisconsin. The three of us saved as much of our vacation as we possibly could and spent every day we possibly could duck hunting. One of Randy’s most memorable hunting days was a field hunt in late November. We got to the field, went to get our gear on, and Randy said, “uh-oh, I forgot my boots.” Mind you it was nine degrees out. I said, “well, this shouldn’t take long so just tough it out.”
The first flock came in and Randy sailed a Greenhead about 200 yards in the field, but I had a good mark on it and directed him to his bird. In the meantime, I shot my four greenheads and was done. He came back and I said, “alright, let’s get your three greenheads and get to breakfast.” The next flock came in and he doubled on greenheads and one was banded, we laughed and said, “alright, one more.” The next flock came in and Randy took his final greenhead, and yep, it was banded as well. He said, “maybe I need to hunt in these sissy slippers all the time” (that’s what he called his boat/deck shoes).
Randy’s love for hunting didn’t just revolve around hunting, but also giving back to the sport he loved so much. He helped duck banding efforts several times, as well as goose banding that he enjoyed doing with is son, Andrew. Randy took his son Andrew under his wing the last five years. We took him on the youth hunts, a trip to ND, taught him how to knock on a farmer’s door and ask permission to hunt, to his first field hunts, his first time in a skiff by himself, shooting his first band, his first goose, his first of everything. Randy will be missed not only as a duck hunter, but as a great brother, great friend, and great role model and father.
May the north winds be at your back buddy and the greenheads with their feet down in your decoys.
Brian, Rich, and Andrew.
Randy’s full obituary may be viewed here.