School of Ice

 I have spent a lot of time and energy hiding myself.  Ducks can see very well and the last thing you want to do is be obvious, Right?

My good friend Ken has been getting more interested in duck hunting lately, especially after I gave him an expertly slayed hen mallard a couple weeks ago.  A week ago he showed up with a beautiful Remington 870 wing master, wood stock, perfect bluing, beautiful gun.  So Sunday we went to the place where I spend my days off, the point on Anderson lake.  Home to a wonderful new blind, expertly crafted by Mr. DaFolder and myself, the point is also home to some of the only open water that you can wade into around here.

We showed up extra early to avoid anyone who would poach our spot.  The drive was sketchy but that mentally reassured me that no one else would be making the trip out to our blind.  There was a lone truck in the lot but no footprints, I was a little concerned until we got out there.  Two inches of fresh snow covered everything, it was reasonably cold with a light wind and still snowing.  The creek starts about 50 yards from the blind with a shallow pool about 20 yards across and then flows by the blind and  through a narrow channel out to the Coure d' alene river.  This channel is anywhere from 6- 10 feet deep right now and curves about 200 yards back to the river with high banks on both sides.  Everything else was dry or frozen with the  exception of a slightly thawed section behind us.  That spot is about 5" deep and has two thawed strips that are about 1' wide and 40' long, basically just two mud holes.

With plenty of time to spare I set out a pretty large spread, geese in the opening, a plug of drakes and the roto just in from that, a space with plenty of room to land, feeder drakes and a bunch of hens near the blind and a group of teal  in the fast moving parts of the channel.  Each one was carefully placed I even managed to drop (unbeknownst to me) one of the roto's legs in the channel near the teal.

We set up and watched ducks land just out of range, in the opening, several flocks came in and that's where they wanted to be.  We had shotten our guns at a couple of circling buffleheads and mallards but they were a little quicker than us.  After a beautiful morning fly the action had cooled down, no kills but at least we had fired our guns.  Ken was enjoying the whiskey and excitement, the weather had gotten a little nicer too, no wind or snow.

At this point I realized that the little mud puddle behind us was bustling with mallards again, Bob and I had seen this on our last trip.  I grabbed a few of my good feeders and two of the full bodies and we went over to the mud hole.  From the cover to the hole was about 50 yards, further than my comfortable shooting range.  We kept watching birds come and go but nobody would come near us.  At this point it was time for desperate measures, would they care if we sat out on the ice in complete view?

So we sat out on the ice about 10 yards from the hole,snow cover jackets but max-4 pants.  This feels stupid, cars can see us from the road, sitting like dicks in the middle of the ice.  The first duck lands in the far hole 10 minutes later 35 yards away. She gets up on the ice and walks around for a little bit, this is the perfect opportunity for Ken to slay.  Ken scares the bird up and waits, I think it's too late, then Ken places one perfect head shot in the Northern Shoveler.  She drop stone dead and Peat goes out for the retrieve, all of the shot hit her in the head and neck.  Ken had never fired that gun before that morning.

20 Minutes later another group came in, as they set their wings I placed a shot.  The bird rocked and then coasted over me, I rolled on to my side and fired twice more, both misses? He just kept gliding away toward the river.  A few seconds later a cloud of feathers lands around me, I must have connected.  I hoped up and headed to the river expecting to find a wounded bird floating. Nothing,  Giving up, I starting circling back along the channel path when I saw a black spot out on the ice near the bike trail.  Peat brought back my drake gadwal, two big holes above the breast and a dozen in the butt.  I don't know how that bird kept flying but it made it quite a ways.

Tiny merganser is huge compared to the bufflehead that was swimming in the big spread as I approached.  One of our pellets must have hit him earlier in the morning as we were shooting at his friends and family. He was so small I didn't want to shoot at him so i tried to grab the very much alive diver.  The bird wouldn't have it, straight under water, he was fast and fairly healthy.  After 5 minutes I realized I needed to use the gun and loaded up some 4 shot. First shot and he went under, while I was looking for him I thought the roto leg at the bottom of the channel had been blown off of the bufflehead and felt like a total ass-hat   Realizing that that leg was the size of the whole bird I started looking down stream. 20 minutes, a bunch of sweat and 6 shots later I finally connected with the little guy in the cda river, about 30 yards out.  One pellet had hit his tiny little dome, Peat brought him in.

Ken and I moved out on the ice near our original spot, the action had relocated.  Sitting on the ice makes it hard to follow birds and turn with them, that is the only reason we missed a limits worth of birds.  It was a busy day full of learning and this Wednesday I will put my new found knowledge to the test.  White bed sheets and a milk crate will hopefully provide me with an unapproachable lead.  Watch out, 8 months ago Ken didn't do much running  now he is training for Ironman.  When he gets into something he gets into something,  Future H7HT?

I am 1 bird away from Fred and Bob's combined total,  just saying.