Busy, busy, busy. Run into work, drive out to hunt, comeback,
clean duck, go to work. This had been the schedule for the last few weeks as I
get settled into my new job at the mountain, squeezing in some hunting when I can.
This is my catch up day, no work, just some early morning slaying with
Bob and Peaty. Most of these past days
have been exploratory, checking out some sweet spots that tried to bury me up to my hips in mud or areas where there is only 10 feet of water
before plunging off a shelf to a certain death.
Some days were spent chasing a stray goose decoy that had been expertly
tied to the weight by Bob, good thing waders don’t have laces. Actually it seems to be the line because this
has happened 3 or 4 times now. Not much shooting happening during most of this.
First I must explain
something about Bob’s last post. I got
my second consecutive merganser fairly soon after finishing Bob’s widgeon for
him. It was a very small, some may even
say “tiny merganser”. Consequently, one
well placed shot was all that was needed to drop and kill him. I may even have said something along the
lines of “ that’s how you kill a bird, one shot”. A little while later I may have gotten a
little excited about some buffleheads that had just landed at the outer edge of
the spread. This may in turn have
resulted in immediately jump shooting one to try and bring the expert title
back into reach. That bird may have
continued to swim/fly well out of range and eventually rejoin his buddies in
the center of the lake. Due to the fact
that I saw him fly a short bit later I had tossed around the idea of not
counting him as a NR but I am pretty sure he is no longer with us today. I blew it again and I am sorry.
Main event
The forecast has
looked amazing the last few times Bob and I have headed out, wind rain/snow,
cold temps and Ducks. Sadly it just
keeps getting nice each time we get excited.
Well today looked beautiful, all the right conditions for ducks. We got an early start in the ultimate duck
hunting Volvo wagon and arrived with plenty of time for a leisurely stroll out
and a well placed armada. The blind on the north eastern end of the lake was
the spot and the water was as far up as it goes. Both of our packs were bulging
with decoys, the roto, jerk rig and I had my flocked birds.
The morning was quiet,
no one was shooting anywhere, a few lookers but no takers. Until a single bird came in from the left, low
and fast with wings locked. I deftly lept
to my feet, out of the blind, shouldering my weapon as I moved and in a single
fluid motion fired a solitary shot. It
rang out like Thor’s Mighty hammer, a single punctuating thunder in the still
beauty of the foggy morning. The beast
lay dead on the left side of the spread, floating delicately in the midst of
the mighty armada. Then a greenie came in and set up in front of Bob, he missed
a bunch so we went home and I cleaned my teal.
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