Marty card under the door!

Now that the season is over I have decided to get a haircut and a proper shave.

I also joined The Force, and will be the one that enforces all the rules that haven't been created yet.  Just like the Central Scrutinizer.

Beware all that would try to screw over the H7HT.

I'm talking to you Greenie!

Respect my Authoriti!

Over? Did You Say Over?

Fred G has done a great job in the post below describing our last weekend of the hunting season.  Although it is sad to realize that the season is over, I'd like to look back and tell you about my memories of the weekend past.

• I was able to spend no less than 12 hours in a car with Clider.
• I drove by my old home and cursed the new owners for ruining my yard and violating my garage.
• The walk to the Old Old Spot was the easiest ever.  There is a highway there now.
• It was exactly the same and totally different at the same time.
• We were all able to shoot at ducks,  That doesn't always happen, especially there.
• Although I promised Clider rain it refused to show up.
• I was somehow able to be the only one to not fall in the river.
• For some reason, only Cliffy and I wash Lisa.
• There are a lot of good places to eat food in the Big City.
• I need better decoys.
• And most importantly, never, NEVER forget to pack your wikki.

What a great way to spend the last couple days of the hunting season.  Much like Clider I too am counting down the days until next season.  In the meantime I will try to keep you updated with equal parts information and our old friend Tom Foolery.  Also, please join me in giving props to the new 'Expert' Fred G.  I will try harder next year.

GBCH

Bob & Fred visualize the ducks they will shoot tomorrow.

CFtK 2015

It's always been hard to go into detail about a long week of hunting, so many drinks, so many parties.  So I'll try to sum it up in a few poignant paragraphs.

View of blind from dog walking area

The Idaho chapter decided to head out to Oregon for the celebration Cilling For the King weekend. With three members tied for the Expert status and one only one green head bastard behind it was going to make for an exciting couple of days.  Unfortunately one member had engagements and could not join us with the day time celebrations, what communist makes you work on MLK day?

Bob D. back at the Old Spot

What was really nice was the fact that Clider was able to see the Old Spot in all of it's glory for the very first time.  I was a little nervous at first, wanting Clider to see the Old spot as Bob, Cliffy and I have seen it over the many years.  The end of the year is the time to hunt the Old Spot, we know that.  The water is going to be up, we know that.  But how many and how much are the two questions.  Well the water was way up and there were many ducks flying.  We were forced to hunt from the bank and forced to put the blocks fairly close in.

Many beautiful morning sunrises. We saw many ducks flying and took many missed shots over the days.  Many Pintail wanting us but not committing to us. 

The last of the year

We had a few missteps along the  way. Forgetting wiki bottles at home.  Getting to close to the river while admiring river muskrat.  Treading water in waders while trying to retrieve the Expert status green head.  

All in all a great trip I think.  Clider saw the Old Spot in all of it's glory and a new Expert was crowned.  As we sat and talked about the year Clider said that "I can't wait until next season."

"Fred G. he's the Expert, he cilled a
lot of greenies"

Bye for now

H7HT First Canine Buddy

Clyde

"hey dave if you aint going to finish that…..just saying"

Rest Well Ole Buddy

You'll be missed but also remembered!

Capitalized Every Word On This Title

Hey, it's me Fred G, again and I just want to take this opportunity to thank Bob D. and Clider for coming out to visit me this week for 'Cilli'n for The King'.  A semi annual festival of duck slaying here in the great state of Oregon where we pay tribute to on of Americas greatest statesman by shooting ducks from the sky.  This year was fantastic.

Crazy good!

Maybe other members of the H7HT will say something about the last two days events on this very here blog, but maybe they won't so I will start.

Bob D. is the best shooter ever!   He is sooooo good that I don't even know where to begin.  He looks so good in his camo, and is so fast in his shooting, and is so incredibly accurate that I, Fred G. can only hope to one day be as good.  Did I mention that he is good looking?  Cause he is.

Also Bob D. makes the best blinds and hunkers down so well in the blind he is practically invisible when the ducks come in.  And boy did they.  He shotten 2 ducks this tour but I'm pretty sure he would have shotten more if Clider and I were better at all the things he does so well.  Once again I, Fred G. would like to say that Bob D. looks good, shoots perfectly and does everything so well that I am jealous.  I may consider taking lessons from him.

(Not actually written by Fred G. but by an impostor hacked onto his computer)

Big News!

I would like to announce that I am 'The Expert'

That is all,
Fred G.

(Not actually written by Fred G. but by an impostor hacked onto his computer)

The Most Viewed Post Ever at 690

Jeff Follies is a DICK!

2 comments:

Greenie said...

yes I concur that man is an asshole!

Anonymous said...

You dont know him personally based on your statements. He is a great person and was setup by a cameraman banging his wife. Talk about an asshole. I would like to see you make that comment face to face with Jeff.

UPDATE:

Foiles  agreed to plead guilty to two misdemeanor charges and serve a prison sentence for unlawful sale of wildlife and unlawful taking of migratory game birds. Foiles still faces sentencing Oct. 19 in Edmonton, Canada, for other wildlife violations , including charges of animal cruelty for not immediately killing wounded ducks and geese. He is to begin serving his U.S. sentence on Nov. 21. Foiles declined to make a statement in court Wednesday, saying he did not want to be criticized further. 

In addition to jail time, he will serve a year of supervised release, pay $100,000 in fines and give up his hunting and guiding privileges for two years following his release from jail. As part of the agreement, Foiles also agreed to make public service announcements admitting wrongdoing and encouraging others to observe wildlife laws. “I’m a hunter, too, Mr. Foiles,” Cudmore said during sentencing. “Hunting is a privilege, not a right, and you have violated that privilege to a great degree.” 

Scouting

Monday I headed out to do some "scouting" because the H7HT Idaho chapter is coming out for Cilling For the King.  It was a mild morning, 42 degrees, with a slight drizzle, and a steady wind from the east.  The water gauge read 5.7 which we now know does not mean a thing.  I get to the gate at an early 5:57 and it's locked.  Same thoughts run through my head, "is someone really going to come out and unlock this at 6 am? Well sure enough Gerry showed up fiddled with the lock for 7 minutes and let me in.  

I have this huge bird sanctuary all to myself, or do I?  I get down to the water and see a headlight, "what the hell?  he must have came in on a boat" I thought.  I wade my way out to him and chat up this boy named Tommy.  Tommy had gotten to the gate at about 5:40 he said and it was locked and he didn't believe anyone would open it. So the young whipper snapper in true H7HT fashion hiked in all the way from the highway.  We chatted a little, how much we come out there , what it has been like, so forth so on, and I tell him about the migration of Pintail I have been seeing out there.  A really nice young man. I move on.  Well Tommy had the only dry spot and I waded my way out further trying to get a decent spot out of shooting range from him.  I found a really nice spot not too deep, perhaps calf high, nice cover, and a nice area to put a good looking spread.  As I was wading into said spot I must have pushed up 3 big sets of Mallard.

Morning bell goes off and said Mallard are dancing.  Tommy my neighbor is a full time caller, only thing is that he's a really good caller.  Tommy takes some shots and it rains on me, "not too bad" I think, "barely a drizzle."  A set of Mallard on my left over my head come in, an almost impossible shot,  I take one anyway to warm the Italian pipe up.  I let loose a 3 1/2 inch McLovin, then I realize it was right toward Tommy.  "Remember not to do that again" I thought.  

Pintail galore is what I think I texted the team.  Again big sets of Pintail swarming me.  3 loners would fly by, circle, then look like they would land and then a huge flock would fly by and they would join them.  Sometimes the huge flock would circle my blocks too.  Just couldn't get them to commit.  Remember Tommy is a full time caller and it seems to be working, so I try to jump in with a solo of my own but my woodwind aint sounding so good.  A couple of Mallard here and there but for the most part it's Pintail and a lot.  Tommy called a set of 4 Mallard in and took a double right out of the sky, "nice shooting Tex" I exclaimed to myself.  

By 10 o'clock my feet were blocks of ice again.  I pack it up and head out, stopping by to congratulate Tommy on his double, he said it was his first ever.  I also apologize about the rain I bestowed upon him as he apologized to me.  In the light I could see his set up; tired looking blocks, a nice makeshift blind, a big ole impossible brown bag for carrying his 15 blocks or so, and an old side by side.  On my way out I was thinking about Tommy how the young man reminded me of two young men that cut their teeth in that very same spot.

Water? Who Can Say.

KFTK? Water is Always a Factor.

A New Sponsor!

Every Home Needs

What Am I?

The Ever popular game "What Am I?"

This week brought to you by Jameson Whiskey. The drink of Champions when you're having more than one.

What am I?

The Many Faces of the H7HT

Lisa 1975

Chomp!

Big thanks to my old pal, and co-founder of the H7HT, Fred G.  He sent me some homemade sausage that he created with ducks from this years Tour of Champions.  Here is a photo of said sausage.
Al dente linguine.
Light tomato sauce with chopped garlic, snow peas and zucchini.
Duck Sausage.
Shaved carrot and tomatoes.
Drizzle of olive oil and fresh basil. (not shown)
Chomp.

Haiku

Ducks On the Water
Far Off Mountains In Presence
Day Comes Slowly In

Fog On the Water

Thick fog outside,

 40 degrees.

Long walk to the water.

My age is starting to creep up on me,

With a heavy pack I'm feeling old.

The sky starts to lighten,

Black turns to rose.

My heart starts to beat faster, 

My energy and strength are renewed.

I see ducks in the distance, 

Starting their morning flight,

I no longer notice the deep water.

As I keep the ducks in my sight, 

Slowly I start to call.

They turn my way,

Spy my blocks,

The safety they display.

They circle once,

Then twice.

They drop their gear,

They are going to land.

What joy it brings.

Seven feet from the water,

Just before they land,

I bring my Benelli to my shoulder,

Steady it with my hands.

I squeeze the trigger slowly,

Let my steel fly.

My aim is true,

My shot is perfect,

I watch the ducks fall from the sky.

The Many Faces of the H7HT

Mexicali Red

Where's Clider?

Well.  Today was great.  I shotten a Greenie and won $5 in the process but that is just a portion of the days story.  I'll start at the beginning and work chronologically onward.

Called Clider last night after talking to him a couple days ago.  We had discussed the possibility of going out to slay on Tuesday or Wednesday of this week and all systems were a go for a long overdue North Idaho Chapter meeting.  He mentioned that when he last went out he saw the waters in Anderson were thawing and the channel was mostly clear.  Why didn't you hear about this?  Well, I guess because he never posts anymore, just like Cliffy.  Anyway, poor Clider had to work today so I did the only thing I know how to do, I went to The Point.

Super foggy drive was no problem at 40mph because I left extra early.  I had been awake since 3:27am anyway after reading all the new info on the Blog.  (Special thanks to the Cali Clan for stoking my read with your Mutual Destruction of all things south of the Heston-Dixon line.)  Even my million candle power spotlight could not penetrate the fog to show me which side of the channel to set out for.  I chose The Point.  I found a perfect blend of high open water and ice blocking the entirety of the rest of the lake.  I set out a beautiful spread of mallards, teal and geese with a new addition to the world of decoys, the pull string.*

Soon after the morning fly of birds I could hear but not see, the action began.  A lone diver landed in my spread and swam within 10 feet of me as I was perfectly camoed with a white jacket against the snow and my regular camo lower section against the bank of the channel.  I briefly considered giving him the ole' Boogely Boogley Boo and shooting his bottom feeding ass, but then I let him live to work in and amongst my blocks.  He did a great job of bringing in a merganser and then 3 buffleheads, all of which I passed on. 

52.6 yards out

This is the point when Clider would have come in handy.  15 geese came out of the fog and locked up left to right over my blocks, spun back and then landed, all within shooting distance of me.  My name is Bob D, and I only shoot Greenies.  It took a while for me to justify that statement while time passed and I moved very little thinking that the perfect spread, with live ducks and geese, would surely pay off.  It did.  5 minutes later another 8 - 10 geese came straight in over my blocks, turned once, and landed even closer.  Clider would be throwing 2 shot like crazy at this point, surely already having 2 fat tankers in the bag and perfect shots on lots more.  I felt bad for him as I waited but it wouldn't be long.  The 3 mallards came from my right side flying low down the channel and I had the time to line up the fattest bastard in the bunch.  One clean shot brought him down and I kept my bead on him while I waited for the others to come back around.  They didn't, and everyone else left too, except my friend the diver, who stayed put like he was part of my decoys.  Knew I shouldn't have shotten him!

A group of Mergansers flew over my head low and fast but other than that it was only geese that came by.  I decided to pull up after the fog semi-cleared and the birds stooped moving. 

I hate it when people use the word 'literally' when they clearly mean 'figuratively'.  As a winner of the GMC award for Excellence in English** it done be pissin' me off, yo.  But as I was pulling the last of my decoys up a set of 8 geese literally tried to land on me.  I could have swatted them with a long stick.  I actually had to yell at them to make them peel off because I thought they were going to swoop down on me and peck my eyes out like they are known to do.  Once again, Clider should have been there, he hates geese.  As an aside, I fully suggest the white jacket when hunting in or around snow.  I think they thought I was a hunk of ice.  Dicks!
GBCH



*Pull string.  Long line that flows out with the water to be pulled back towards you, looking like ducks swimming in. Only second to the Hunting Umbrella as a true H7HT invention.
**Not to be confused with an award that has any value.

A Perfect Day Today Was

Geese Flying Past the Moon

The moon was full and it was bright no headlamp necessary.  The weather was perfect, clear and 38 degrees.  The wind was blowing steady from the east. Water was at a perfect level (6.93). I Found a nice spot on dry land today about a half hour before the bell.  My blocks looked amazing and were dancing in the wind.  I utilized my new camo scrim which helped due to the lack of cover out there.  No I did't slay today, it would have been a good day.  There are a few reasons I suspect.  1. I didn't have any Pintail blocks. C. My cover was the best I could manage but could have been a little better.  7. I should have taken the wind more into consideration as to how the ducks would be approaching my spread.  D. Maybe a few more blocks due to the size of flocks moving would have been helpful as well.

The pre morning fly was strong and full of Mallards.  If I was a poacher I could have had my limit, it was so bright due to the full moon shooting would have been easy.  They were dropping in like relatives at Christmas.  After the morning bell it was just clouds of 30-50 Pintails with a smattering of Mallards, a dozen at a time, and a pinch of Widgeon. I have never seen so many ducks out there before, it was just constant.  Every ten minutes or so there was a new batch.  My interest was peaked the whole morning, never bored, never thinking if was time to call it.   I took a few desperation shots at some Mallards and Canvasbacks, but nothing to show for it.  Yes eventually you have to call it.  The wind stopped and the ducks were rafting out in the middle of the water.  By 11 o'clock I had enough of watching flocks of birds drop into the middle of the water and decided it was time.  Of course you know what that means. 

It was a great day.

Water Water Water......

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.

Packing Sand

It must be pretty easy being Jiggity Jeff. Never having to prove your greatness to anyone, hunting in a park in the middle of a city, basically using pop corn to get ducks and geese. How hard could it be? He never has any stories or pictures to share about his excursions, no facts to back anything up. How hard could it be being Jiggity Jeff? Has he ever "bagged" a duck? no. Has he ever posted any pictures? no. Has he ever journeyed to the great NW to hunt with the greatest team ever? no. Jiggity if your out there, if you ever read the blog, or if you could even read, read this RESPECT MY AUTHORITY! I have "bagged a duck" I have done everything, and you? nothing. I am the greatest hunter. I have all of the knowledge. Respect my authority.

Making it rain from the East side,

Fred G.

Packing Sand

1. A seafaring insult. When one was told to "pack sand" it was considered a huge insult often resulting in a heated exchange of salty language.

For example:

Arrrgh pack sand mate..wait yer turn like ye others." Typical Response: Arr go f***k yerself you coc*suc*er son of a whore.

The Many Faces of the H7HT

"Whitey"

The Many Faces of the H7HT

Lisa 1972

Update From Cali Boys

Mutual Destruction-noun 

• a U.S. doctrine of reciprocal deterrence resting on the U.S. and Soviet Union each being able to inflict unacceptable damage on the other in retaliation for a nuclear attack. 
• The name given to two hillbilly hunting partners in CA whenever they get together and the antics that ensue. 

Yep, Mutual Destruction, that about sums us up.  I believe I told you guys about Kevin lying to the Ruskies about getting fifty ducks.  You also heard about the year before when “we” had to clean out the decomposing skunk out of our blind (“here’s your blind boys, take it or leave it.”)

I also won’t spend much time going into detail about having to recruit my wife to help pick up decoys two years in a row since my “hunting partner” was off dirt bike racing.  I still hear about that from her. 

Wifey picking up Man's blocks

I ain’t going to shine you Hoy7 boys on, after last year, we had hit rock bottom.  We were already suffering from the absence of ducks coming anywhere remotely close to our blind, and to top it off, we were in the midst of a two year drought and due to water restrictions imposed by the state of California; our club wasn’t even going to get water this year.  Sure we could pay a reduced rate and hunt a dry field, but we could also fish in a swimming pool and get similar results.

“You boys picked a hell of a year to join a duck club.” – The Duck Whisperer

Fast forward a few months and Kevin used his salesman skills to get us in to a h-h-h-h-h-high dolla duck club owned by the Duck Whisperer.  The type of clubs captains of industry and other big wigs shoot at, definitely not the type of place for a couple of hillbillies like us.  This is the type of place where rules are followed and member expectations are high because the ducks are aplenty.  For all the years we spent in the skunk blind wondering where the ducks actually were, well, they were at this spot and now, apparently we were going to see how the 1%ers lived.  If that script and the ensuing chaos we cause sounds predictable, it’s all that and more.  Some highlights…

• I mentioned it was a high dollar club, but I blacked out the cost.  Seriously, Kevin and I are driving back from a deer hunting trip in the Eastern Sierras and we started talking about duck season and I went into full amnesia mode over it.  He thought I was kidding and the only thing I can think of is it was my body’s natural defense mechanism to keep me sane and shut down my brain.  Kind of like what they say happens if you see a horrific event and bury it deep in your subconscious.  I managed to CTL-ALT-DLT the entire thing as if it never happened.  I simultaneously “poofed” both my savings account and my memory at the same time.  Incredible.
• Kevin deciding he wanted to pull the trailer down to the club the night before opening day, arriving at midnight with his diesel F250 and 30’ travel trailer to a club full of sleeping industry captains.  If I had more time and space, I literally could write a whole chapter on just this event.  It was a great way for the new guys to introduce ourselves into the new club - Mutual Destruction is in the house!
• Parking the said travel trailer into “our” self declared spot and in the daylight of the next morning finding a sign from the club owner that had been posted there previously saying, “NO PARKING IN THIS SPOT.”  How were we supposed to see that sign in the moonlight at midnight?  Ahem, Mutual Destruction - gotcha again!
• Despite the sign, Kevin deciding to leave the trailer in said spot for 3 weeks and eventually the club owner, aka the Duck Whisperer, towed our trailer on his own to a different spot and dropped enough “F Bombs” to cause shrapnel wounds in my eardrums. 
• Our hillbillie Polaris Ranger won’t idle or start without starting fluid, so while the rest of the club is firing up their new ATVs and riding off to their respective blinds, I got the engine exposed and a can of starting fluid in hand trying to hand-job the Ranger into starting.  “Oh don’t worry about ol’ Betsy, she’s just a little cantankerous!” I’d say to the rest of the club as they rode past our hoopty duck ride. 
• The Duck Whisperer told us to use 8 oz weights on our decoys.  He also put a clause in the club rules about all decoys needing 8 oz weights.  He then sent an email out about all decoys needing 8oz weights in case anyone missed it in the bylaws.  When we showed up before the season started, he inspected our decoys.  “Those don’t look like 8 ounces boys.”  Any guesses about what size weights we had?  Most of ours had 6 oz and Kevin even put 4 oz on a few of them, “They won’t blow anywhere – we’ve never lost decoys before,” Kevin told the Duck Whisperer insistently.  Have I ever told you that Kevin is a heck of a salesman?
• Finding our said decoys after a wind storm blown 300+ yards from the blind.  Our S#&% was so blown out, I thought the decoys belonged to another blind, but sure enough, they were ours.  

By the way, did I mention that Kevin’s wife had their second baby in November?  Right smack in the middle of duck season.  Who does something like that?  Talk about bad planning.  

Oh, did I mention that my wife is due with our first baby the first week of January…as in any day now?  Mutual Destruction – gotcha again! 

“You boys picked a hell of a year to join a duck club.”  You ain’t lying Duck Whisperer, you ain’t lying.

So where does that leave us?  Well Kevin has hunted twice this year and has a total of 11 ducks so far..

I’ve been hunting solo most the season and am somewhere around 50 ducks.  50?  Seriously, go ask the Ruskies if you don’t believe me.

Fast forward to Wednesday, December 31, 2014…25 MPH winds on the forecast.  Baby is due at any moment, but this is the storm day of the season!  If this is going to be my last chance to hunt for a few weeks, possibly the rest of the season, then it’s time cue up some Bon Jovi, kiss the wife goodbye, and go out in a Blaze of Glory!

With winds that strong and gusts that were even stronger, every duck in the grasslands was up and moving.  The morning flight was insane, multiple flocks of 500 teal blowing through.  Shooting time starts and I have a spoonie trying to commit suicide and land in my blind.  It’s basically self defense at this point, it was either me or him, so I had to blast him.  I love getting a duck with the first shot of the day, but a spoonie?  Eff it…I got six more ducks to go!  Let that be a lesson to the rest of you great northern Shovlers out there, don’t get that close or you may meet your spoon-maker!

Next a flight of teal comes in and tries to land feet down in the decoys, BAM-BAM, two shots, two green wings fall.  I’m Annie friggin Oakley at this point.  

Oh, it’s on!  I was letting all sorts of ducks pass by just because I didn’t want the hunt to end so quickly.  It was unreal.  If I could have filmed it, it would have made for the type of duck hunting videos that people actually pay for.

Final count for the day, 6 green wing teal and 1 spoon diggler.  Hell of a day for what could be the last hunt of the year.

Not sure what the rest of the season holds.  Hoping I can still sneak out for a couple hunts, but with the baby due any day now, I may be on lockdown.  Now way to tell, but something tells me the Mutual Destruction story is far from over.  

Goodluck to all you Hoy7 boys, hope you stay on the X!

  

Old Old Spot?

Hoy 7 Hunting Team Cills. Circa 2006

A Piece of Technological Ingeniousness

Merry New Year. You Figure It Out!

ARIES (March 21- April 19) Drinking style: Impulsive Aries people like to party and sometimes don't know when to call it a night. Their competitive streak makes them prone to closing-time shot contests. They're sloppy, fun drunks, and they get mighty flirty after a couple tipples. Getting Aries people drunk is a good way to get what you want out of them, should other methods fail. Aries can become bellicose when blotto, but they will assume that whatever happened should be forgiven (if not forgotten) by sunrise.They can be counted on to do the same for you -- so long as you haven't gone and done anything really horrible to them last night, you sneaky Gemini.

TAURUS (April 20 - May 20) Drinking style: Taurus prefers to drink at a leisurely pace, aiming for a mellow glow rather than a full-on zonk. Since a truly intoxicated Taurus is a one-person stampede, the kind of bull-in-a-china-shop inebriate who spills red wine on white carpets and tells fart jokes to employers, the preference for wining and dining (or Bud and buddies) to body shots and barfing is quite fortunate for the rest of us. This is>not to say that the Bull is by any means a teetotaler -- god, no. A squiffy Taurus will get, er, gregarious (full of loudmouth soup, some would say) and is extremely amusing to drag to a karaoke bar when intoxicated.

GEMINI (May 21 - June 21) Drinking style: Gemini's can drink without changing their behavior much-- they're so naturally chatty and short-attention-spanned that it's just hard to tell sometimes. They can amaze you by conversing with finesse and allusion, then doing something unbelievable in an extremely advanced state of intoxication, like puking in your shoe. Gemini's possess the magic ability to flirt successfully (and uninfuriatingly, which is very tricky) with several people at once. They like to order different cocktails every round -- repetition is boring -- and may create a theme (like yellow drinks: beer, sauvignon blanc and limoncello) for their own amusement.

CANCER (June 22 - July 22) Drinking style: Cancer is a comfort drinker -- and an extra wine with dinner or an after-work beer or six can be extra comforting, can't it, Cancer darling? Like fellow water signs Scorpio and Pisces, Crabs must guard against lushery. Cancers are brilliant at ferreting out secret parties and insinuating themselves on VIP lists -- and, in true Hollywood style, Cancers are never really drunk; instead, they get "tired and emotional" (read: weepy when lubricated). But there's nothing better than swapping stories (and spit) over a few bottles of inky red wine with your favorite Cancer. Even your second-favorite Cancer will do. The sign also rules the flavor vanilla, and you'd be adored if you served up a vanilla vodka and soda.


LEO (July 23 - Aug 22) Drinking style: Leo likes to drink and dance -- they're often fabulous dancers, and usually pretty good drinkers as well, losing their commanding dignity and turning kittenish. Of course, they're quite aware they're darling - Leos will be Leos, after all. They generally know their limit, probably because they loathe losing self-control. When they get over-refreshed, expect flirting to ensue -- and perhaps not with the one who brought them. But Leo's not the type to break rules even when drunk, so just try to ignore it (try harder, Cancer) and expect a sheepish (and hung over) Lion to make it up to you the next day.


VIRGO (Aug 23 - Sept 22) Drinking style: Cerebral Virgos are compelled to impose order onto their bender. Their famously fussy quest for purity could lead to drinking less than other signs, sure -- but it could also lead to drinking booze neat, to sucking down organic wine or just to brand loyalty. They rarely get fully shellacked -- but, oh, when they do! Virgo's controlled by the intellect, but there's an unbridled beast lurking within, and they let it loose when walloped. It's dead sexy (and surprisingly unsloppy). As one Virgo friend used to declare, "I'm going to drink myself into a low level of intelligence tonight." A toast to the subgenius IQ!


LIBRA (Sept 23 - Oct 23) Drinking style: "I'm just a social drinker," slurs Libra, "it's just that I'm so damn social." Libra loves nothing more than to party,mingle and relate to everyone. Whether dipped in favor of Good Libra (with Insta-Friend device set to "on") or heavier on the Evil Libra side(they are little instigators when bored), the Scales can really work a room. Charming as they are, Libras are notoriously lacking in self-control, however, which can get them into all sorts of trouble -- including wearing their wobbly boots waaaay too early in the evening, flirting with their best friend's beau or even blacking out the night's events entirely. Oops!

SCORPIO (Oct 24 - Nov 21) Drinking style: Don't ever tell Scorpios they've had enough, forthey'll smirk at you and quietly but intentionally keep tippling till they're hog-whimpering drunk, out of 100-proof spite. Scorpios like to drink, and screw you if you have a problem with that. Most of them see the sauce as something to savor in itself, and not as apersonality-altering tool - though if depressed, self-loathing Scorps seek total obliteration. But generally, they're fascinating drinking pals, brilliant conversationalists and dizzying flirts. They also remember everything -- especially what you did when you were blitzed. Only drink with a Scorpio who likes you.


SAGITTARIUS (Nov 22 - Dec 21) Drinking style: In vino veritas -- and, for Sagittarius, in booze blurtiness: When buttered, they'll spill all your secrets and many of their own. Tactlessness aside, Sagittarius is just plain fun to drink with. This is a sign of serious partying (what else would you expect from the sign of Sinatra, Keith Richards, the Bush twins and Anna Nicole Smith?). They're the people who chat up everyone in the room, then persuade the entire crowd to travel somewhere else -- like a night club, or a play ground, or Cancun. Good-natured hi-jinks are sure to ensue (including a high possibility of loopy groping; spontaneous Sag is a brilliant booty call)


CAPRICORN (Dec 22 - Jan 19) Drinking style: Capricorn is usually described as practical, steadfast, money-hungry and status-thirsty -- no wonder they get left off the astrological cocktail-party list. But this is the sign of David Bowie and Annie Lennox, not to mention Elvis. Capricorn is the true rockstar: independent, powerful and seriously charismatic, not too eager to please. And if they make money being themselves, who are you toquibble? But just like most rock stars, they're either totally on or totally off, and they generally need a little social lubricant to loosen up and enjoy the after party, especially if they can hook up with a cute groupie.


AQUARIUS (Jan 20 - Feb 18) Drinking style: Aquarius and drinking don't go together that well (except for water, that is). They have an innate tendency toward know-it-allism, and if they get an idea while sizzled, they're more stubborn than a stain or a stone. If they're throwing a party or organizing an outing, however, they're too preoccupied with their duties to get combative and they make perfectly charming drunks in that case. Fortunately, they're usually capital drink-nursers. They also make the best designated drivers (if you can get them before they start raising their wrist) Aquarius is fascinated by drunk people and capable of holding interesting conversations with soused strangers while sober.


PISCES (Feb 19 - Mar 20) Drinking style: If you're a Pisces, you've probably already heard that you share a sign and an addictive personality -- with Liz Taylor, Liza Minelli and Kurt Cobain. Not only do Pisces like to lose themselves in the dreamy, out-there feeling that only hooch can give, but they build up a mighty tolerance fast. Who needs an expensive date like that? On the other hand, they're fabulously enchanting partners, whether in conversation or in crime. With the right Pisces, you can start out sharing a pitcher of margaritas and wind up in bed together for days. The phrase "addictive personality" can be read two ways you know.

If Heston Is All Knowing and He Knows Our Future, then How Is that Free Will?

So knowing what I knew it seemed as though today would be an exciting day of hunting.  Cold and rain in the forecast with the water down to a manageable 6 feet on the water scale.  6 Feet is a great number, the point partially covered with water and there is just enough water by the Old Spot to keep the confounded dog walkers out.  I'm at the lot and there is one truck already there and hunter gone, but he could not be too far ahead of me, the park opens at 6 am now and it's 6:15.  As I make it to the water I caught the other hunter and his dog, he was a mere 20 yards in front of me which made all the difference, he got to the only semi-dry place before me.  You see all the knowledge in the world don't make you smart.  The water level read 6 feet but the water was the highest I've seen it in a long time, what's that mean?  I could not tell you, the good Lord Heston seemed to be testing my faith.  If I knew the water was at that level I would never have gone out.

I stop and chat it up with this guy, who was only carrying a Nike duffel bag of blocks, and congratulate him on finding possibly the only dry spot and wish him luck.  I'm now wading in waist high water in search of anything that I could possibly set up my stuff in.  I find some knee high water set my chair up, which is under water, and throw my blocks out.  I look pretty good.  Good cover and my blocks look really really good.  I have 15 minutes to spare before cilling time and enjoy the morning rituals while sitting in the water.

The bell goes off and there I am, sitting in water, cold water.  Morning fly is nonexistent.  A hour or so goes by with a few showers in between and finally a set of Widgeon come in gear down.  I lock on then pull off, I don't want them as much as they want me.  Again, the good Lord Heston testing me? My feet have been in the water the whole time and they feel like blocks of ice.  Time is moving very slowly.  Another couple of sets of Widgeon take the bait but I'm not game.  Did I mention the fact that the guy I passed on the way out is a horrible horrible caller and he calls constantly which is also making it hard to sit there.  I don't think he noticed that all the ducks were hitting my spread first with no calling then exiting towards his spread.

Chuck awarding me the "Sportsman of the Year Award" 2007

I actually make it to 10:30, water down just below my knees while sitting, but my feet are freezing, I call it before the next rain shower blows through and head out.  I stop by again and chat a little.  He shot two of those Widgeon that I passed on and was extremely happy. He asked "why did you pass on shooting those birds?"  I told him my new promise to myself, "I'll only shoot a Widgeon or something comparable only after I bag a Mallard or Pinny first, this way I'm at least cleaning something worth while later." He had carried out a mere 6 blocks plus a pull string, his spread looked not believable. It was his first time out there and he was shocked as to how much water was out there, I said it only gets higher and higher as the year goes on....

On my way out I thought somehow I got some rocks into my boots and it was painful walking out.  I was mad because I thought I was going to push those rocks through my booties and ruin my waders, and how hard it is to replace them.  As I continued to walk out the pain subsided and I realized the rocks were just my feet being frozen and defrosting on my way out.  

GBCH

Tenth Avenue Freeze Out

Todays title is the same as my favorite song from The Boss, Mr. Bruce Springsteen.  And, if there's one thing we all know, it's that Rock & Roll and duck hunting are eerily similar.  Rock & Roll is all about sex and drugs and, um, rock and roll while duck hunting is all about uncomfortable weather and disappointment.  See, one and the same.

Two days ago I set out with the best of hopes for a fantastic day of Greenie slaying.  It's been cold here in North Idaho, real cold.  The most amazing thing I ever saw happened on a day just like this one was supposed to be.  It was years ago at The Point and I was hunting on a very cold and clear day.  The channel was clear and I watched as a tornado of mallards tried to get into the only spot of open and protected water around and it just so happened to be right in front of me.  I didn't even shoot that's how stunned I was.  This would be the same kind of day for sure.

The picture shows a hardy temp of 0 degrees and the wind was already working it's best to make that feel warm as I headed out to Anderson.  I was planning to take the truck but the ignition cylinder was (and still is) frozen solid.  This would prove to be an issue later.  I got there and loaded a pack heavy with extra layers and a big white blanket that would either keep me concealed in the snowy backdrop or insulate my butt when I sat it on my chair.  I had no less than 7 layers of wool, neoprene and down on for the trek out not knowing what I might find.  I was overheating well before I got to The Tip even in the subzero temps. 

Had I been driving the truck with my million candle light powered spotlight I would have seen that the whole lake was frozen solid. The wind had driven frothy ice into the channel and frozen it solid as well and there was nowhere to set up at all.  Even after the sweaty walk back to the car I could still find nowhere to set up at all except for the parts of the river that were clear of ice.  Ducks were hiding along the shoreline but the river drops off so quickly that I would not be able to retrieve anything I shot, so I was in the aforementioned Tenth Avenue Freeze Out.  I drove home disappointed.  Again.

Clider did his best not to laugh at me when I told him about my day and Fred G. had some good advice about sitting in my backyard so I could at least enjoy a sip of wikki on my day off.  Rock & Roll and duck hunting.  One and the same.
GBCH