I'm on the Big Board........Finally.

Ahhhh, morning.

Sure, I'm not 'The Expert', and sure, I don't have an 8X10 color glossy of me snowboarding, and sure, there were no good mangoes to make duck bites with so I have to use "Bartlett" pears to make my duck bites, but I'm finally on the board with my first Greenie of the year!

What Clider didn't tell you is he had to opt out of hunting yesterday due to a bout of ebola he has.  I went to The Point and after navigating icy roads arrived with plenty of time to set my new Dakota decoys in a fine spread of realism in the channel that wasn't even frozen over in the frigid North Idaho waters.  They looked so good and 'swim' in the moving water that it wasn't long after cil'n time that several divers wanted in.  Then bunches of geese flew long and slow right over The Point. So close I could have thrown a baseball at them.  Then I saw a first for me, a diver came and landed so close that he saw me only at the last second.  I was wearing a white jacket against the snow and the brown of my waders perfectly matched the bank of the channel.  I was invisible.  The diver came in about 3 feet from me and immediately went under while landing.  It was so funny I was laughing as he surfaced and bolted.  Stupid diver.

Again, I was invisible, and I heard movement behind me.  2 greenies were swimming up the channel towards me and my blocks.  I sat perfectly still and waited for them to swim closer but they decided to get out of the water and party on the shore behind me.  My heart racing I waited until I couldn't take it anymore and stood up to give them a chance to fly but the smarmy bastards knew I was H7HT and swam in the other direction.  Even after jumping over the snowy log and giving the old Boogely boogely boo they just swam away.  Bastards.  Not long after I felt a disturbance in the force again and turned to see the greenies swimming around the corner again.  I was prepared to wait them out this time.  As that was going down the unmistakable whistling wing sound alerted me to the greenie landing in my blocks.  He was wary and rightfully so, I stood and dropped him as he tried to get away from me.  Clean 1 shot cil that landed dry and made for an easy retrieve.  I'm eating him in a few minutes.  I can only assume that the sound of my Benelli was enough to make the other greenies behind me skip town.

1X2 of me boarding

After that it dried up quickly and I would have left an hour earlier had it not been so stinking beautiful and peaceful there.  I pulled my blocks and snowshoed back out to the trusty New Black Betty and made it home in time for a fire (in the fireplace) and a thoroughly delicious Rolling Rock while I made my duck bites I will be eating 7 minutes from now.  Happy New Year to all the friends of the greatest hunting team ever created, the H7HT, and as always...

GBCH

Hello from Idaho

Holy skiing!  It’s been hard to fit greenie killing into my schedule with all of the fantastic powder that has besieged our area.  But like any true Expert, I put a little time aside and got after it. 

A couple weeks back I did some scouting and saw nothing between Kellogg and Swan Lake.  Undeterred I headed out to Anderson to hunt about half way between the point and the blind.  I set a fantastic spread, almost a whole boat worth of blocks and shells.  I then settled in on the edge of the water while the light was still low and waited.

I knew I was in an area that gets a lot of traffic, and it was a good thing too, because nothing wanted to commit.  I had a close call with some swans flying at just the right angle down the shore line, shot fired, shot missed, thank Heston.  When they are lined up right at you those necks are invisible.  That didn’t stop a pair of honkers from flying about 40 feet off the deck right at me about 20 minutes later though.  One shot and a goose came crashing down on the beach to my right.  After that it was a whole lot of watching high flyers, almost no ducks to speak of anywhere. We packed up and headed home, unaware of the kickass snowstorm headed our way.

About a week later I did a little scouting and spotted some birds out on Swan Lake, a place that has always looked promising but never delivered the goods.  I headed out extra early as the boat ride would take about 30 minutes.  The launch was shallow at Medimont, I ended up having to use my back to shove the boat off the trailer.  In the channel I was accosted by several swans that confused by the boat, jumped out and were struck by the bow.  Everyone appeared ok, so I moved on.  That was the second time in a week I almost put a swan on the CTP score board. 

I got to the Swan lake channel, boated in, set up a magnificent spread, and settled in.  5 minute before legal time 5 mallards came in, settled for a second and then took off.  After that I watched as my channel froze and the birds moved in and out of the big part of the lake.   Lots of birds but nothing wanted anything to do with me.  After a few hours of freezing, Peat and I went to walk and then grab the boat. 

After a crunchy walk in a foot of breakable crust I got in the boat and turned to see a single greenie hovering dead center over my spread.  As I approached the spread two more greenies and a hen took off.  Greenie you are a bastard, Peat and I headed back empty handed.

On the way back I decided to check out a potential walk in spot that I was telling Bob about a while back.  I parked the boat and headed over the dyke, I could see the potential new point and it was loaded with mallards.  This point extends past the icy bays on either side and comes close to the open water.   I think I’ll be watching this spot for the next warm cycle.

As I’m about to get back in the boat a single greenie comes out of another wetland on the river side and flew well within shooting distance.  I dropped him with the kind of confidence that you have when you are the Expert of the world’s finest hunting team.  A single shot and then Peat navigated some patchy ice for a retrieve that would have been a miserable commitment for me to get.  We loaded up and headed back.  I parked the boat at the mouth of the channel and took Peat for the obligatory walk.  About half way down a huge fat greenie popped up and surprised both of us.  I shotten three times at a very big target, I messed three times.  Confidence back in check.

A week of shralping the gnar (Skiing like an Expert) later, it was time to get Peat out of the house for a mid day walk.  We headed to Killarney around 1:00 and after spotting some birds in the channel headed out to get our jump shot on.  After frightening everything away without firing a shot we tromped back across the snow and shallow water and decided to walk the river. At the river I put the sneak on the biggest buffle heads and mergansers I have ever seen.  I decided to leave them be and continued down the bank.  I spotted some geese swimming down river and decided to follow them.  The snow was knee deep and after about 20 minutes it became clear I wouldn’t catch that group.   I looked around and spotted a stationary flock floating near the raised embankment.  We speed hiked for another 10 minutes and then closed in for the shot. What happened next was a first for me.  As I came up another group of birds closer and to my left flushed.  I had been doing a lot of thinking about my triple shot a little while back, and decided that I really wanted to work on shottening doubles.  So as this surprise group flushed, I picked out a goose and shot it, then I picked out a goose and shot it, then I picked out a henny and I shot it.  Three birds, three shots, three retrieves. 

Peat and I headed back, and for the first time ever I really wished I had a bird strap with me.  Knee deep snow combined with two geese and a duck made for a very long walk back.  Now I know you are feeling really bad for me right now, but don’t. Everyone has a cross to bear, and mine happens to be shottening more birds than I can carry.  If that’s wrong, I don’t want to be right.

Wondering What To Do with Water Up To Your Waist? You Hunt in It.

You guys suck!

With water levels at a high for the year (does anyone else see the theme of these post lately?) Cliffy and I decide to head out and drop some blocks at the corner.  We set up exactly where Cillin for the King was held last year. We were set, we were looking good.  A good steady rain, a slight wind at our backs, and a dark grey skyline we're ready.  We DFSD.  Again.  Again.  We are seeing an unprecedented amount of ducks flying, none want anything to do with us.  We look good, our spread looks good but nothing is wanting us.  I'm thinking due to the size of flocks we're seeing, easy to get a single or deuce to commit but anything bigger not so much, and that's pretty much all we are seeing.  Our interest was peaked all morning then it dried up and with it our interest.  We catch a rain break and decide to call it.  With our retriever mad as hell at us we head home.  

Canadian Clipper

This man proclaimed that there was a "Canadian Clipper" coming in.  Arctic blast from the north, temperatures in the 30's with winds and rain.  I read into this.  I thought he meant storm front pushing ducks from the north into my backyard.  What he really meant was warm temperatures and continuing buckets of rain.  

This man is a liar

It's Wednesday.  Cilling fields open at 7:10.  We know the reality, nobody, nobody is going to be hunting the Old Old spot with the water levels at a record high for this time of the year.  But being a former expert I know that levels around the seven foot mark means that I can find some high ground out on the point.  Exactly what I did.  Last time out I discovered that the waders leak above the waist, so I was actually hoping for water above the waist to try out my new addition to the gear pile.  Waterproof socks!  Yeah, let the water flow into the right leg and fill my bootie, matters the mo, my feet will be dry because I'm wearing waterproof socks!

Find my way out to the point in waist high water and find a high spot, water up to my ankles.  Throw out my spread, hook up my scrims and settle in.  I'm thinking that I look alright.  After hours of watching a test pattern in off and on showers I call it.  On the way out I run into Debbie Downer dressed in her lesbian camo with her over weight pit bull again.  "Betcha didn't get anything today" she yells to me.  "They shot all the ducks back in the 80's." I've met this woman before, she has a 1976 Ford f250 on blocks at her mothers house.  She thinks all the ducks live down south in Klamath.  Funny, I've never seen Debbie's name on the Expert list.

GBCH

The Water is Back!

But the ducks are not.

Last week I had no luck on barely any water for two days in a row.  Clider also went out and had a similar experience, maybe someday he will even tell us about it. Truthfully I was skeptical at best about going out this week even though I had some days off to burn before the upcoming onslaught of Christmas.  But then a package arrived.

Dakota Extreme Mallards.  A whole dozen of them.  Holy Heston they are fantastic looking blocks.  I had to go out today just to see how they looked floating in the waters of Anderson lake.  The water has come back to levels not seen since October with the recent endless rain we have been getting and the wind was light.  I set out all my new friends, and the jerk rig as well, in the early morning hours and waited.  There were some decent flocks of ducks moving overhead and lots of geese moving around but only one good opportunity came my way.  A fat greenie came straight in and by the time I saw him he saw me too.  Over my head and gone in no time at all.

*gun shown actual size

I took a walk and a plump little teal jumped from the channel.  Had I been 'The Expert' I would have not been startled and surely would have brought him home, but alas, I am not.  I also stopped by to see how busy the beavers have been and snapped this photo to prove that here in Idaho the beavers are no wimps.  A quick nap and a tuna sammy and I was on my way home.  No ducks but man are my new decoys awesome.  Thanks Santa!

GBCH

Water, Water, Water..... (revisited)

I'm standing here in water.

The water that was just at my feet.

But now...

It's up to my waist.

It's gotten deeper.

It keeps getting deeper.

I'm standing waist deep in the water.

Wondering if will ever go out.

No matter where I go, 

Or where I turn, 

I never seem to get out of this water.

I hope my waders do not leak

It sucks my expertise 

It never seems to end.

I will hunt in it or drown in it

Waist high in the water, 

I know what will happen.

The water will get deeper.

Deeper until I drown my expert status, 

Greenie will drown with it.

When the water leaves, 

Out will it go with me.

It's only waist deep, 

For now I am still afraid.

What a Difference a Day Does Make

3:10 this morning I awoke to buckets of rain and wind outside my bedroom window.  Scary amounts.  So scary that  I could not go back to sleep because every time I closed my eyes visions of trees blowing down on me and paralyzing me on my walk out or swift over the bank water caring me away then drowning me.  I thought for sure if I did make it back to sleep and woke up at the prescribed 5:15 that when I awoke the conditions would be so scary that I would cower in my bed with the covers hiding me from what was outside my windows that was surely going to kill me.  

It must have all been a bad dream.  I woke with the alarm and sprung out of bed.  It was calm, dry {no rain} and unseasonably warm.  The gear I packed the night before in preparation of the deluge was now obsolete.  I repack and head out with a clean gun and an open mind.  

Of course I'm the only one at the lot, who else would dare hunt the Old Old spot with water levels breaking the 11 foot mark?  I make it to the water and it's worse than I thought.  Think of cilling for the King last year and add a few more feet.  Remember Cliffy and I were there just 3 days ago with the water level at "0".  I wade down the shore in waist high water and find a dry spot on shore to sit and I'm able to drop some blocks about 20 yards.  I do my best to look like a hunter in a blind and settle in.  About 20 minutes into the morning fly a green head bastard thinks there is a party going down, a celebration of the high water keeping the hunters away.  He forgot one thing.  

After giving him some 2 3/4 inch of love he landed perfectly in-between my two little sets of blocks I had set out.  With a little after life kick he swam out 10 yards past my blocks and then dropped his head in shame and passed.  I panicked thinking I just got my first NR in many years.  I make it to the edge of my blocks and tippy toe out to him, but just then the land under my feet started to rise!  The good lord Heston was carrying me!  The rest of the morning fly was pretty good.  Some big flocks of Pinnys, sets of Mallards and some crap ducks too.  Problem was it's pretty light now and I'm pretty visible.  After watching mice that were caught on the point before the flood waters swim back to shore for awhile, with boots full of water, I decided to call it. Maybe with a building permit and a truck load of material a sweet blind could be resurrected.  

What a Difference a Day Doesn't Make.

It's been raining here in North Idaho.  lots of rain.  Huge quantities of rain.  The downside is that barely any of that precipitation fell as snow up on the mountain.  Rain, great for duck hunting but bad for working.  With my three whole days off this week I spent yesterday morning at The Point. Clider had recently slayed all the greenies in the area of The Point but I went anyway in hopes that one or two had remained unscathed.

The rain was light and winds were low as I set out my blocks into the channel.  T.J. was with me which meant I could throw them as far in as I wanted because the water there was so low.  I also brought my jerk rig and hucked it across to the water on the other side. Spinner spinning, blocks working, cover was great and I still had 15 minutes to simultaneously have a few moments to reflect on the solitude of the morning and wait for the inevitable attack of the cougar that was surely stalking me.  Things were good.  The only slight problem was the sheer and utter lack of ducks flying anywhere.  Clider had in fact, killed them all.

Stupid environment!

Just then a greenie and his hen landed off to my left on the other water.  Far from my set but surely close enough to shoot if I was quick and true.  I didn't even get through the first Boogelly before they peeled up and I was able to get 2 clean shots off that missed them squarely.  That's it for ducks that day.  One whole diver came over to say hello and I contemplated shooting him just to ease the boredom.

invisiblenessitude

The boredom

had an upside though.  I had plenty of time to get a good look at The Tip, and with the following day in mind, think of the perfect placement for a new blind.  I called E.F Hutton and made sure my portfolio could handle the $785,362.07 I withdrew to build the perfect hide on The Tip.  The main issue was crossing the channel repeatedly through the knee deep boot sucking mud topped with 3 feet of water.  I took all the extra stakes from last years 2nd blind, rebar pulled from the mud and even found where some mallacka had cast off the 6 stakes that made up The Tip blind we built last year.  Other conscientious hunters had left a bunch of cover material along with the 100 hulls Clider picked up and I used that along with some fresh cut brush to create the most invisible Tip cill'n spot ever.  Soaked and tired I made it back to The Point just in time to clean up the 50 hulls other conscientious hunters had left there and carry everything back.  (As a side note, I considered leaving all my gear hidden there since I would be back tomorrow but, as you all remember from that one single post 10 to 12 years ago, it's a bad idea.)  I made it home with an aching shoulder and increasing wind gusts outside. I even got a call from O.G. H7HT member Jenny X.  He told me all about the fact that he hasn't shot a duck in years but now has a shooting range in the basement of his home.  Trump 2016!  One minute after he hung up the increasing gale force winds knocked out the power at my house.

There's no other way to put it, it was absolutely pouring rain and windy as shit when I woke up.  The good news is that one of my Sweeties 'magic pills' had cured my aching shoulder and I felt great as I stopped to see Jerry at the gas station. The lone customer at the store was also a duck hunter and we shared a look as he walked in the door like we both were the most hardcore people on earth.  Rain X working overtime, Black Betty got me to Anderson with time to spare just in case the entire blind I built yesterday had been blown to the other side of the lake.  My faultless construction technique and the many dollars I had spent were only out-shined by the fact that the wind was from the south, perfectly at my back.  My blocks danced in the wind and I knew that every greenie in town wanted to be in the shelter provided by the channel.  Not even the relentless cougar would be foolish enough to brave the gusty conditions I was sitting in.  I waited.

The one duck that flew in from behind me was navigating like it was having a seizure as it tried to land in my spread but by the time I saw it the wind had blown it to Canada. Hours later it suddenly stopped raining and the wind died down, sunshine behind me.  I thought for sure ducks would be moving and landing soon but nothing happened.  Either the storm front pushed them away or Clider had, in fact, slayed them all.  I called it.  For Heston's sake, start snowing!

GBCH

Gambling....that's how We Catch Up to Clider

I'm just wondering......if you have 'greenies' to make bets, can we gamble 'greenies' on things like football games (MIA vs NY coming up)?  Can one go 'negative greenies' to make bets?  Can one loan 'greenies' to other members to bet with?  Hmmmm, gambling with 'greenies'.  Just thought I'd throw it out there so Fred doesn't have to put his waders, gun and decoys on Craigslist.

History

This here is a picture taken at the Old Old spot in 2006.  If you notice the little blip out in the water that would be me going out to retrieve, I could actually walk across to the other side.  Today there is a fast moving river running through the same spot.  I lost that bird that day after giving it the ole Clyde look but I haven't lost the memory.

A Solo Monday

They look good, alright?

Another blustery cold day here in Oregon.  Being a Monday no need to get out to the hunting spot too early so I leave the house at a reasonable 5:30, with a cilling time of 6:59.  I pull in to the lot and there are already four trucks parked and dark, I don't know if the readers remember but it used to be just us and Mitch out here.  I scratch my head load up and head out, on the way out wondering what awesome spot is left with me. I get to the point and encounter a mallaka with a push cart, he's not even wearing his waders yet, and a dog.  I chat him up and get some info as to where he has seen the other 3 trucks of hunters.  Everything he tells me tells me that there is nobody at the cove.  

As I am walking to the cove I notice that the dog is following me, I assume that maybe the mallaka was too following me in search of a spot for himself.  I'm crossing the water, which is iced up, and the dog follows me too, right to the blind.  I turn and no owner in sight.  I cross the cove again to set up my blocks and the dog follows me again.  When I get to the other side she bolts.  A minute later I hear someone screaming bloody murder looking for a dog.  Not a minute later the mallaka sticks his head out of the brush and asks if I had seen his dog.  I say no and point him into the direction I told him that I thought I had heard him go.  I get his phone number and tell him if I see his genius of a dog that I'd call him.  For the next 20 minutes all you could hear is "Missy Missy get the F*%K over here!"

I settle in with about 15 minutes before the bell goes off.  I hear some calling behind me and it sounds off into the distance.  Some mallards fly through the spread and go behind me, not being cilling time yet nothing to see here, but nice never the less.  Check the clock and there is 7 minutes to go.  BAM! BAM! BAM! Right behind me!  I mean right behind me!  I'm like holy crap!  Did these guys not see me setting up this morning with my headlamp dancing in the dark and screaming with another hunter about a missing dog?  I walk literally 20 yards behind me and two more mallakas are set up on the opposite side of me shooting into the other direction.  First I apologize about setting up so close to them saying that if I knew that they were there I would have never set up there.  Then I told them that I would be happy to move if they wanted me to.  [ I didn't really want to do that, morning fly is the best time and to be pulling blocks during prime time was not really an option]  They were cool about where I was, even asked me to join them if I wanted to.  I explained that I too had blocks already set up and since we both were shooting in separate directions every thing is cool.  Plus if you saw their tired looking blocks set up in the most ridiculous way you too would have moved on too.

The morning was filled with high fliers and crap ducks.  A set of mallards flew in and I did my best to take one home but no luck.  Frick and Frack behind me walk over and chat for a while. Tells me the story of how it's his  first time out there hunting ducks. Tells me the story of how their buddies shot 8 ducks on Saturday and told them about it so they thought that they should check it out. Tells me the story of how he likes to "work" the birds and not sky bust.  Tells me the story of how two mallards came in this morning before cilling time and landed in their spread [the same two that flew through my spread] and how the drake flew away and the hen stayed behind.  Tells me the story of how he told his buddy to put a bead on the hen and as soon as it's cilling time to blast it.  So yeah the story I'm telling you is that his buddy shot a duck on the water before cilling time.

Frick and Frack pack up in search of duckier pastures.  I enjoy the morning beauty.  Off in the distance I can see three mallakas crossing from the island to the point.  One is pushing a cart and there is a chocolate lab with them.  How nice he found his dog.  I watched how two of them struggled with the boot sucking mud while pushing a cart, which also got stuck,  through the water.  It took them literally 15 minutes to cross 20 yards of water, it was fun to watch.  I pack up to and head back to the lot.  I catch the tree mallakas and their dog, I say "Hi Missy" and they looked confused as to how I know the dogs name.  The dog wags it's tail and follows me to my truck.

Plan B Isn't Just for Sluts

I headed out under the guise of getting a Christmas tree with Monica yesterday and did a little scouting.  

There's a lot of ice out there right now and the water is really low.  There seemed to be a complete lack of birds until we reached Anderson, there were a couple in front of the point but they were way out of range of either blind.  The slough across from the Thompson Lake preserve however was packed with birds on the ice near one of the boat blinds I've always wanted to hunt.  We even got to see a guy standing on the road using a tree as a blind, on the road.

Plan A was looking great, I'd take one slightly heavy load of floaters and my slotted bag and do the thing in one trip, after all it's a pretty short walk.  I showed up an hour early, put on my ice traction thingys and headed out in the dark.  The mud was a lot softer than anticipated and the ice had moved out a ways from the overnight rain.  The first ice cleat was gone in the mid shin deep mud immediately, the second one was lost in the breakable ice over knee deep mud.

After venturing uncomfortably far onto the ice, I noticed two things.

        #1 The ice was not getting any thicker,

        B   The ice was continuing to settle and crack as I walked

        And finally, the ice was melting very quickly.

I decided to turn around and head for Plan B.  I want to take a moment to mention that walking through really gooey boot sucking mud carrying a fully loaded pack, full slotted bag and gun in your heavy winter waders in the pouring rain is really fun and I would recommend it to anyone.  After a a brief moment of debating the merits of calling it a day and going home, I headed to the Tip.

I left the slotted bag and grabbed my layout blind and hustled to get set up.  10 big blocks out and the layout next to a log, with some camo netting over Peat and we were ready for business.  The first ones in were little divers, but after about 20 minutes a lone greenie came within 12-15 yards and committed.  I had a bit of time to prepare and got a clean cil dropping him right in the blocks.  About 30 minutes later another lone greenie came in from my left, again within 20 yards.  He came down, and I followed up with a shot just to make sure.  Peat reluctantly made the retrieve in the muddy conditions.

We were really in the open so any little movement was a dead giveaway, it seemed like every time I moved I spooked some birds off.  I spent $.37 and added a few sticks to our mud beach, I also noticed that someone had left a hundred plus empty shells at the Tip and cut down most of the grass.  Thanks guys!

We settled in for a bit and soon enough a pair came in, I didn't see them until they were above the spread.  I pulled up and missed the first shot, got feathers with the second, gun jammed with a muddy shell, hit the butt on the ground, and connected with the third shot.  It set it's wings and sailed about two thirds of the way to the shore to the right of the blind.

I started walking on the ice and it was holding my weight but not very well.  I could see that the bird was dead but it was at least 100 yards out, it was time for Peat to earn his "good boys".  I was a little worried after the first retrieve, but he doesn't mind ice.  He headed out on roughly the line I gave him, and with just two looks back for hand signals he found the last greenie for the day and brought him back.  Peat just made a retrieve that was easily 3 times further than any before.

After that we cleaned up the mess at the tip, went for a walk.  Shotten at some geese on that walk, discovered that my gun was so muddy that the ejector would tear the lip off the brass of the shells and leave them stuck in the chamber.  I was done shooting by 8:30 but stayed out until 1:00, after that it was a very heavy walk back with everything completely loaded with mud.  Those 3 greenies sort of helped balance the pack though, it's heavy work being an expert.

Ménage à trois

You before you were a D*ck!

Oh here you are the young one Willy, thinking you are so cool!  Little did you know that you are stupid! YES I call you Willy because you weren't even part of that stupid team yet!  Who do you think you are coming to my house and stinking the place up with your obese animal? You know why you were able to shoot three of my cousins with one shot? Because they were retarded, yeah I doinked their momma and they happened.  Enjoy every mentally challenged bite you fool.  

I quack in your general direction.  Fool.

Missing: Monday November 30 2015

Hi my name is Missy and I followed Fred G. to his blind today then took off.  My owner is just sick over me running away from him, I didn't even hear him screaming my name over and over this morning.  If you happen to find him please alert the authorities.

Instant Messaging

• d4m - drink for missing
• d4sd- drink for seeing ducks
• d4c - drink for ciling 
• d4ld - drink for losing dog
• 2-4 taking a leak
• wc - wikki cold
• cow - Clider on walk
• 2d1s- Two Ducks, One Shot
• 3d1s- Three Ducks, One Shot
• 4d1s- Four Ducks, One Shot
• gwc - Gun went click

(feel free to add)

Expert, with a Capital E

As previously mentioned by Bob D, we were heading for the Theater for some truly wild action.  Literally millions of birds were in and around the theater on Friday, and we wanted a piece of that action.  The plan was to get in, limit, and get out by 10:00 as we both had things to do after cleaning a pile of birds.

According to plan we walked in and set up a pretty big spread with almost 30 goose fakes and around a dozen mallards.  We settled into the existing blind that was still in tip top shape from last year and prepared for a killing fest.  With 25 minutes to spare, we just sat there and watched every bird on the lake flee from an air boat that was powered by twin straight piped monster truck engines.  In the final minutes before shooting time we witnessed many large trains of ducks and geese swimming single file through the spread looking for a little more distance from the air boat.

Once the time was right we had a few small birds come in, but nothing we were looking for was interested.  We passed the time and due to the short walk in I decided to go for a warm up walk fairly early.  I got the sneak on a nice drake widgeon and Peat got it out of the water for me.  This is an important part of the story because now we had to walk fairly often in order to keep him from freezing to death.

We had a few big flys but nothing was coming in at the Theater.  The occasional diver would swing by, or mallards would check us out only to land on open water.  It soon became time for another walk, as Peat was icing up in the sub 20 degree weather,  Bob and I had witnessed the bay to our immediate south load up throughout the morning so I headed that way.

As I approached the bay I kept a low profile and stuck my head over the embankment to look across at the other side.  As I looked out, a few hundred mallards exploded off the shore below me, catching me off guard. I pulled up, reminded myself that I am the expert and picked a single greenie that was going to come home with me.  As the comotion cleared from that single shot, I realized that there were six orange legs hanging out of the water within a few feet of each other.  The were no cripples, two dead greenies and a hen,

Peat made the triple retrieve, and I hid the birds near the car behind a rock.  I set a piece of steel that I was carrying for Bob on the rock, he likes to hang them on his cabin you know.  I then headed back and vaguely answered Bobs questions about the shot, not admitting to anything.  A little while later a henny came straight in, fresh off the triple kill I stood up confidence and pasted her with with the kind of authority you come to expect from a man who is capable of the triple kill.

We decided to pack it up and head back to the car.  I watched as Bob went for his piece of steel and saw the pile of trophy birds behind the rock, very satisfying,  I told him the story and he stacked them on top of my bag, the difference in weight made the final part of the journey exhausting.  This is the kind of stuff that separates the H7HT from the rest, banded birds, triple kills, and highly trained dogs. We are the best.

Who's a good boy?

Bleak Friday

Ahhhh, the day after Thanksgiving.  The day all good Americans flock to shopping centers everywhere to buy a big television the Chinese made just for us.  Clider and I went shopping too, shopping for meat.

I picked up Clider and trusty New Black Betty brought us to Anderson with ease.  We started for The Point but after just a few minutes there we realized that The Tip was the place to be.  Clider stayed behind on that side to place decoys there and I headed over to fill the waterline on the other.  We have yet to build a hide on The Tip so I spent .86 cents on some grass and a couple sticks to keep us invisible to the inevitable flocks.  Piles of ducks and geese flew before shooting time and we slowly settled into a rhythm of calling and hoping.  Even though the decoys looked great only a few opportunities came our way. I had a small duck fly straight at me at well over a thousand MPH and had no choice but to try to blast him, but fortunately I missed as he would have been ground to a pulp buy some 4 shot at only 3 feet away.

Clider took his walks and I stayed hidden behind a stick but really not much happened.  The wind died off and the sun warmed us to a whopping 20 degrees and we decided to go.  On the way home we did a little scouting and found that The Theatre was holding mucho patos holmes.  Clider will have to tell that story.

GBCH

Playing Catch

New Blind

I am playing a little catch up here, in fact I have some reading to do from the looks of it.

As Fred and Bob were settling in for breakfast I was hard at work setting up in a fancy new blind at Cave, or Medicine Lake.   Mallards came in a few minutes before shooting light, in fact it was down right busy before shooting time.  Once it was legal however things slowed right down.

After a miss or two I finally got my chance, a pair caught me off guard but a nice fat greenie came in as a straggler.  I got him on the first shot, but he immediately righted himself and started swimming off.  I shot a few more rounds but he was under full steam.  At this point I did what any self respecting hunter without a boat would do, I waded across the lake to the other side and chased him around in two feet of boot sucking mud.  If anyone saw Peat and I in the reeds on the other side, they probably got a good laugh out of it.  As a bonus I now know that you can wade across that whole section of the lake.   

After retrieving my first solo greenie of the season, Peat and I packed up and headed home to recover from the previous three days of wiki.

You can wade across this..

Thanksgiving

I try and hunt every Thanksgiving, and since Mo is out of town I had no reason not to.  Otis had shotten a limit of birds for the first time yesterday and was going to show me the ropes today.  We made plans at a ski movie showing the night before and he assured me a limit of greenies.  I got out of there and finished packing around midnight, Otis apparently kept the party going.

I woke up and established that the boat wasn't going to start, but since it was packed I figured we could push it to the channel a Killarney, Otis' killing hole.  I couldn't get Otis to answer the phone, and since he had to peel out early and drive to the coast after hunting, he was taking his own truck. So I swung by and knocked as I walked into his living room.

Otis was still fully clothed and wearing shoes from the night before, he was also face down in his dog beds.  He figured out how to keep his balance after a few minutes, and grabbed his pile of gear and jumped in his truck.  We arrived at the ramp to an inch of ice, which was really fun to push the boat through.  Especially for Otis who was starting to sober up at this point.  Bob D would have loved this.

We left the boat in the channel and set 10 blocks and a spinner on the main lake.  As we were walking into the reeds to load our guns a flock of greenies came in and hovered over the beach.  After they left and we loaded up a few different sets of teal came in and landed in the spread.  We were waiting for greenie.

After a bit of a quiet spell a small flock came in and committed.  I dropped a juvy greenie with splotchy coloring, Otis was content to sit there and deal with his hangover.  Peat made the retrieve in frigid conditions and we settled in  for a bit of a slow morning.  After passing on a few more teal, I decided to take a shot and was two for two with a nice little drake.  That was followed by one of the best setups that I have ever missed.  A nice fat greenie landed 20 feet in front of me while I was fumbling with my safety.  As I turned off my safety he jumped and I missed by a mile, for some reason my bicep and cheek were sore after that shot.

After that we headed back in, with a running motor this time.  Otis headed for the coast and Peat and I walked the channel near Medimont.  On the way out we scored a hen ringneck, Peat managed to make the retrieve which included jumping up a four foot bank with the duck.  After a few tries he grabbed onto more than just feathers and brought it in.  Good dog.

Thanksgiving Day Massacre

With Cliffy taking the reins of cooking Thanksgiving Day dinner I thought I may contribute something to stick inside that there bird.  With Lisa back from the doctors and a full tank of go-go juice confidence was high.  Load the truck up and "We are the Champions" is streaming out my speakers, perfect.  Make it to the gate at 5:40 and there are two trucks already in the parking lot.  One person gone and two Mallakas loading up their wagons to pull out with them and a dog.  Before you know it this 48 old man with a 50 pound pack on his back Scooby Doos right past them they have no idea what hit them.  Make it to the water, down a little, and head over to the New New spot.  Set up is a snap with the $1,000,000 million dollar blind (higher properly values here in PDX) already to roll.  The moon is full no need for a headlamp thank goodness since mine died at the house.  I have 20 minutes to settle in and even enough time to sacrifice a pair of wool gloves to the spicy Thai food I enjoyed the night before.  Not even cilling time yet but it's so bright out that people are pulling the trigger 10 minutes before the 6:43 cil time.

Just as the bell went off two mallards fly in and I send one doing cartwheels to the other side of the cove. With the morning fly going off I decided to just leave it and pick it up later.  Many birds flying through, just amazing considering where and when I'm hunting.  Another set of birds come in and I raise the gun and pull the trigger, CLICK! I've been "Willied!"  Meanwhile two Mallakas out on the point on the island are getting more looks than me and pulling the trigger at everything.  Geese way out of range, shit ducks, winging stuff, what a scene.  Every duck that came in was welcomed by 6 shots.  Another set of mallards fly through all hens, nothing to see here, I respectfully let them pass.  A set of tankards come through low on the deck, what better than a duck stuffed in a gooses ass?  CLICK!  "Willied" again.  I may have to take the fire stick to go see Warren, he'll know what to do.  A beautiful morning accompanied by a nice fly.  Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

P.S.  Got that hen home and started cleaning her and the pasting I envoked on her promoted poop to come out her breast meat.  I have pictures but I'm sure you all are eating a fine dinner. 

Fred 14:28-7

Give Man Sauce and Feed Him for a Night

Teach a Man how to Make Sauce

and You Feed Him for a Night

• 1/2  onion chopped and sweated in 4 tablespoons unsalted butter 2 tablespoons canola oil
• 2 cans San Marzano tomatoes, crushed with potato masher
• 1 tablespoon chili flake
• 1 teaspoon salt or more to taste
• 6 oz. tomato paste mixed with one cup heavy cream
• 6 sausages poached until just firm
• 2 large Jack and Cokes

Oregon Chapter Day One

$500,000 blind
Can't even see chairs or Greenie

Cliffy texted me the night before inquiring about the potential of us hunting together on Sunday.  I responded with a yes, it would be possible.  Cliffy said he'd pick me up at 5:30 but showed up early and we made it to the gate at 5:40,  to our surprise it was open which would give us an extra 20 minutes to get out to the point and set up by 6:40 shooting time.  We arrive at the water and it is up, up to a perfect level.  The wind is blowing north at a good clip.  We went around the point to the cove around the corner and set up with the wind at our backs.  We threw the blocks out to the other side of the cove to help induce the green head bastard land in front of us and hunkered down into the brush.  4 green head bastards floated into our spread just before shooting time, our setup seemed to be just what they wanted.  A little while in a green head bastard floated in and Cliffy with no hesitation pasted him.  Waylon naturally leapt into action.  Only needing a splash to locate for a perfect retrieve.  The morning fly was quite spectacular rivaling things that I've seen in Idaho.  Just before the sun lit up our spread 5 Greenies floated in and I did my best Bob DaFolder impersonation, 5 left just as fast as they flew in.  Some Widgeon flew through and seemed to flare, maybe the sun isn't only lighting our blocks up but us as well.  I was chilled so I decided to build a $500,000 blind just behind us.   We were set and looking good.  After awhile in our new digs we decide to call it, just some high fliers, nothing to see here.  We pack up and have a peaceful walk back to the truck, Cliffy's bag a little heavier.

So Much For Tradition

"Time To Kill"

by Bob Da Folder

*

*

You packed up and left the truck over an hour ago.

Sometimes if the moon is still bright you don't even

need a headlamp to make your way out to the area

where you want to set up. It's cold out but the long

walk with the pack on makes you sweat inside your

waders and under all the layers. As you set your

decoys in the still water surrounding your blind, your

body cools and you can feel the chill in the air again.

Finally, with everything complete, it's time to wait

for sunrise.Just before the first light of day you can

hear the whistle of ducks flying near you. Wondering

what they are is almost torture. Are they the fat

greenies you hope to see again at first light, or are

they another brand, something you have never seen

before? Not long now till you start to make out shapes

and can see a little bit better as the sun comes closer

to the horizon. Now, as the other creatures of the woods

wake up and start to move around, you know that the

time is here. Time to kill.

Guest Editor.

HA!

HA!  it is I, Greenie. And I rule!


I have to post today to your weak attempt at literacy.
I saw you today Bob D.  You made your way to Anderson lake and the spot you like to call The Point.  I call it sanctuary.

Sure you set a nice spread of mallard statues and a string of zombies that move when you pull on an incredibly visible string.  You even thought you could hide by sitting behind some windblown debris. First thing in the morning all my diver friends flew around and sat in your statues and me and my friends went to the place you call The Tip.  We made happy noise and flapped our wings to distract you from the minute I made my approach. That's right, it was me.  I flew right into your 'cil zone', sat down and waited for you to try to see me.  Finally you gave me the old Booglie booglie boo and I made a hasty retreat while you fired off 3 whole shots and missed me every time.  Every time!  What a chump.  At least you swore and checked your gun for straightness.  It makes me laugh which I'm sure you heard as I flew away.

After those fat bastard geese finally stopped flying right over your head repeatedly, (they know full well that you are too pussy to shoot at them cause I told them) I waited for a bit then made my move.  Yep, me again.  This time I came in from the left with one of my many many girlfriends.  You couldn't even hit me then.  My fat belly was way to big for your stupid Itrallian gun.  It's bent anyway. I flew off to join all my buddies out on the lake.  I think all the diver friends are on to you because they kept landing and flying around while you kept looking for me.  I'm way to smart for that.

I saw you take that nap and pull up all those weak looking plastic fakes.  I sent some fat geese over to smite you and then as you put your pack on and started walking out I knew it was the right time to bring all 50 or 60 of us over your head.  Go home loser!

Ha! It is I Greenie, and I RULE!