Day One Oregon

Well well well, what do we have here?  Another hunting season.  Today marked the beginning of the 12th season for the Hoy 7 Hunting Team and my oh my how things have changed.  The Old Spot has totally retransformed itself due to growth of trees and brush along with the ebbing flow of the mighty Columbia and Sandy rivers.  No more hunting in jeans.  Boats and dogs have been added, things we only dreamed of many years ago.  The team has grown exponentially.  With the popularity of duck hunting increasing over the years, due to the H7HT, the Old Spot is also overgrowing with hunters at a fast rate.  Where as the old days it was just Bob and myself with the occasional passing of Mitch with his dogs Daisy and Duke.

Cliffy throwin signs at Idaho chapter

Today we roll into the newly paved parking lot with freshly painted parking spaces,  I was shocked not to see a space reserved for the H7HT with all we have done for the area in helping it become more popular.  There was only one truck there before us which was a good sign knowing (because we are the BEST) that the water level would be difficult.  The packs felt heavy the first morning as we made it down the graveled pathway to the river.  The morning sky was clear and the air was warm which was disappointing considering the weather forecast was for "dumping buckets of rain."  We arrived at the river finding just what we expected and after a short hike Cliffy put us on some nice water with a great backdrop.  We throw out some blocks and set Leroy up hoping he brought along some of his 2011 magic.  As we settle in waiting for the morning bell to sound we look over the area watching the sundry of head lamps dance in the dark in search of water, very different from years ago.  The morning fly was surprisingly strong which made for great expectations (not really because we know the reality).  After a few desperate blows of our calls the morning dried up as fast as it began, this is where the hard part comes in.  It's now time to stare into space searching for the elusive beast while trying to keep your eyelids from sealing shut due to the lack of sleep from the night before.  Your mind plays tricks on you here, a spider weaving a web or a high flying airplane (apparently there is an airport near by) could give the illusion of a high flying duck.  Just when you shake it off with a rip from your bottle or choke, the illusion becomes reality, just so happens that this reality was ruined by the hunters who thought it would be okay to show up to the dance 2 hours after the dance started.  Two hunters just outside gun length on the other side of our water  pushing a huge cart filled with their shit and with their two dogs running in the water.  This is when a set of ducks decide to fly through our spread.  Thanks guys. I'm glad I'm not you because I would feel like a total dick.

Hours later two young kids walk past us dressed in the worst non-cammo ever and caring just guns and wearing a lone call.  They reminded me of Bob and myself of the early days, I smiled. Two kids out in search of something, learning every step along the way.  Just then my bubble was bursted and I wanted to kill them.  Two ducks flew through our spread and I was able to call them back with a few sweet notes, finally.  By this time the two young lads settled in about 500 yards from us trying to hide behind a few sprigs of brush.  As these ducks were banking a second time to join our party one of these punk ass kids decides he can hit a duck out 300 yards and decides to unload his gun at them.  Opportunity ended.

We give it a few more hours, eat a fine lunch of fried egg sammy with bacon ham and cream cheese on a bagel, finish up the rest of our wikki, (to make our packs lighter for the walk out) pack up and head back.  Day one Portland, mark it done.