FILER, Idaho - Twelve-year-old Jed Oyler is a duck whisperer.

Well, maybe whisperer isn't the right word. Squealer? Shrieker? Screecher? Squawker?

However you describe what the Filer sixth-grader does to lure ducks, one thing's for sure: It's loud.

Jed is an up-and-coming star on the national duck-calling circuit (yes, such a thing exists), and his prowess with a tiny plastic duck caller puts the skills of old men to shame.

He manipulates the device like Yo-Yo Ma plays a cello, like Wayne Gretzky wields a hockey stick, like Picasso handles a brush. Jed just does it louder.

In the three years since he took up competitive duck calling, Jed has accumulated more than $2,000 in prizes and awards. He's never placed lower than sixth at a competition, and he regularly takes home the first-place trophy.

Competitive duck calling, he said, could be his calling.

Jed's career started about three years ago when his grandfather Jack Oyler signed him up for a duck-calling class at the College of Southern Idaho as a Christmas gift.

Jed suspected he'd been gypped.

But something happened to change his mind that first day in class: Jed learned he was a natural. He had the gift. He could speak duck, fluently.

Jed won the class competition on the last day of the six-week course, beating out men seven times his age.

Course instructor Mike Plein, a legendary caller in his own right, saw that Jed had what it takes to be a champ and encouraged the youngster to enter a few regional competitions. Jed blew away kids in his age group and attracted the attention of longtime callers.

Since the class, Jed has traveled the country quacking up the competition.

The trick, he said, is having a good routine. That's what happens in the 75 or so seconds when the judges are listening. Callers must demonstrate range, tone, control and, of course, volume, to get a good score. Jed does it all.

Hunched with one hand on the caller at his mouth and the other near his knee, Jed looks like he's getting ready to rap.

Then you hear the quacks.

Bobbing back and forth, heaving for more air, Jed's face reddens. And just when you think he'll pass out, the deafening squawks end, and the child smiles. That was a good one.

It takes practice to be the best, which is unfortunate for his parents, Tricia and Marty Oyler.

"He usually starts off inside, just quacking a little," Tricia said. "And then I have to tell him to go outside."

Nevertheless, they couldn't be prouder of their son's unusual talent. Marty hunts the birds his boy is so adept at attracting.

"He's a natural," Marty said shaking his head, even after three years somewhat stunned by Jed's talent. "He's just a natural."