"I don't know of any planted ducks - do you?"
Yeah, unfortunately. They call them "flighted ducks" at a certain place upstate and it's where I draw the line. The sports hang around the pond and a short distance away farm raised mallards are thrown out of a tree house. Bang, bang, high-fives, here's my Amex, let's go eat.

I don't know why it bothers me more than shooting preserve pheasants. Probably because my dog has so much fun with the pheasants.