Adding to My Totals? Nope.

One more day of hunting was on the schedule for my days off this week.  I went to Anderson, go figure.  I went alone because Clider is somehow addicted to working after taking a 5 day vacation but I have a normal schedule and know that the season is coming to a quick end.  One last day seemed like a good idea.  I packed New Black Betty with 11 of my 12 decoys, the jerk rig, spinning wing decoy and T.J., just in case I needed to retrieve a far away duck without a dog.

The water was down and I set a good looking spread in the channel with the jerk rig right in the middle. It came in handy because the water was placid and that was the only thing that moved.  Fred and Cliffy were hunting the Mighty Columbia at the same time and the competition was on.  Good thing no ducks flew anywhere near me because I never wanted to finish off a whole box of shells this year.  It will be so rewarding to use them for the next 3 years as they rust and deteriorate in my gear bag.

I did take a nice picture of the sunshine that soon gave way to rain.  I pulled up the set after I could not take anymore of the dismal duck flights that day.  In a perfect H7HT moment, as I took my final picture of the season, the one with all my gear getting packed up to head back to the shed, whistling wings alerted me to the pair of mallards flying in an arc behind me looking for a place to land.  Sweet.

Have a great summer everyone and, GBCH.

Possible Last Day in Oregon

Yesterday, Fred and myself ventured out to the mighty Columbia to take a crack at getting our final CIL(s) in for the 2015-2016 migratory waterfowl season.  A day I will always remember.

The morning started at out as usual, me picking up Fred at 5:30 in the morning.  This time, and the first time ever, I was late and not the usual 15 minutes early.  You see, I had the awesome experience of dining at the Old Spaghetti Factory via a gift card that needed to be used up and to say the least, nothing sat well with my stomach.  While trying to keep on time, I kept having to run from getting ready in the garage to the bathroom.  After picking up Fred, who was waiting patiently in his driveway, we stopped off at the market so I could grab some liquids to try and rehydrate on the drive out.  Just as we pull in to the parking lot another truck arrives and the hunter approaches us (on his Cannonade mountain bike) giving us the low down on the water levels and what is flooded and commenting that with the little available dry land that we should maybe hunt together.  Seriously John John (the new deemed hunters name), you think we need your report on what conditions are like or think we need your expertise in our blind? We're the H7HT!  You know, THE BEST.....EVER!  Pfff, rookies.  Then I puked again.

Dragging ass, we finally make it to the final stretch before peeling off the dog walker's highway when we see John John riding his bike in the opposite direction.  Turns out, he has to make 2 trips because he can't carry his gun, waders and blocks in one.  Once again, pfff rookies.  With my last breathe, we reach the $6 blind that Fred and I built on the first day of KFTK.  Ducks (plural, many) were cruising at an extremely low altitude, even landing in the spread that Fred was still in the water setting as I was sprucing up the blind on the only dry spot there was.  Come cillin' time and puking while holding my butt cheeks together so as not to fill my waders with ass vaumit, John John finally made it out and was setting up right next to us as I'm sure he had read our minds about being THE BEST......EVER.  I was holding on to the 'antsy' Waylon with all the ducks flying and what not, but when he heard noises next to us and wanted to inspect, he pulled me straight out of my chair causing an extremely uncomfortable muddy and wet experience.  Shortly after, we had a small group of Pintails buzz our spread.  We couldn't get our guns aimed quick enough to ensure that we would get a cil shot so we had to pass.  As quick as the morning fly started, it ended.  Few ducks were moving and John John decides to call it after an hour telling us the excitement was to much for him to bare.  Two trips later, I assume he was on the road headed home.  The next few hours weren't too bad though.  We had a greenie come in from the right fully committed until he noticed us standing in the blind doing our morning yoga stretches, we had a Merganser swim through our spread that only Waylon noticed and gave us a heads up about, and 2 Canadians fly over head that were in hand grabbing distance.

With the tide coming in and we we're now in ankle deep vaumit diluted water, Fred lets me know that he was ready whenever and that he was on my time.  Only having stomach cramps and no recent sudden explosive urges, I offer to give it another 30 which Fred agreed upon since we did make the promise to Waylon that he would get to do his job today.  Within the next 10 minutes, a lone drake Pintail came straight at us locked and loaded.  While sitting in his chair with his feet down (like the duck), Fred pulled the firing mechanism on his Italian death machine.  It took one more quick shot to ensure that the pesky invader from the north didn't dive under water.  After a couple decoy mishaps and a quick stick throw, Waylon finally locked onto the deep retrieval to possibly save Fred from a dreaded NR.  After another 20, we pull everything together and head out (and of course Waylon knocks my gun over and into the mud).  We met a variety of interesting people whilst walking to the truck, and my favorite was the lady who asked "excuse me, is that a    'hunting'     dog?".  I said "why yes, he is a     'hunting'      dog".  She then said "shouldn't you be wearing    'orange'    if you're hunting with your    'hunting'     dog".  I explained that you don't wear orange while duck hunting and her facial expression to that made me ignore her following comment which I think was just 'oh'.

A great day to possibly end the season and, as alway's, another exciting year!

K.F.T.K. the H7HT Way.

So Clider and I decided that after last years success traveling to Portland for the end of the season hunt that we should return. It was good.  This year would be even better. We loaded the trusty Pathfinder and his stinky fat dog and headed out after work for the 6 hour drive to P-Town.  We were pleasantly surprised to see a brand new Dodge in Fred Gs driveway and the KFTK weekend was on.

Day 1:  Cliders Day.

Knowing full well we would be rained on I suggested that Clider bring all his waterproof gear. He let me know that he had none that would work well, and for that he would pay.  We got to the mighty Columbia River and there was only 1 other truck in the parking lot, no problem.  The long walk out was fun for Waylon and Peat who were having a grand time being dogs running around growling and humping. The rest of us knew better because we had 'water up' and a slog through knee deep water to the blind that Cliffy and Fred built for the occasion.  Of course the only other hunter was in our spot. Dick.

We settled into a spot and Fred and Cliffy built a $6 blind while Clider and I threw blocks. It started to rain.  Not ducks but rain.  We did have some shots but no duck fell that day.  What did fall was the patchwork of Fred's wader boot and the semi-waterproofness of Clider's jacket.  He was clearly soaked to the bone and half frozen as we pulled up and headed for home.  Also, Cliffy left after only a 1/2 flask, to go to a job interview.  We will forever now show for job interviews wearing camo and smelling like wikki.  Cliffy, you are an inspiration!

Day 2:  Bob D's Day.

With a mighty hangover, trembling legs and a fine pack full of everything, I was having a hard time keeping up to the blistering pace set by the rest of the team.  I should have stopped and taken a rest after the first section of the walk but carried on as not slow our mission to get to 'The X'.  The water had come up during the night and we slogged another 20 minutes through knee-to-waist deep water to the blind we should have had the day before. It was knee deep too, and at that point I had to shed my pack and pant like a dog just to regain my breath. Apparently I was showing all the signs of another heart attack and people were worried.  They set the blocks and built a dry blind while I recovered and had a little 'alone time' with the toilet paper roll.  It was on.

No ducks were coming in until Clider and Fred G took a walk and that's when Cliify and I blasted the sky, missing the only great chance we had that day. By this time I was the only one with a dry pair of waders.  The walk out was somber.

Day 3:  Cliffy's Day.

Sauvies Island was on the menu for day 3 and we had plans to sleep in and get a great blind that had been cilli'n ducks all morning.  Showing up at 10am worked out well until Cliffy pulled a typical H7HT blunder.  The warden at the window, who has a need for paperwork, noticed that Cliffy had inadvertently left his 2016 duck stamp at home.  Let's just say that Cliffy was not happy. Some time later we were all set and looking at a field of flooded corn that had many ducks flying around.  Good thing we were all enjoying the day because no real ducks wanted to land in our perfect spread.

In typical Sauvies fashion the guys across from us skyblasted a duck and Clider gave them a good ole' fashion cheer.  We watched as he waded around and looked for his duck. Peat slept in the mud.

Reading this post you might think that the KFTK weekend was a bust.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  Once again Clider and I spent no less that 12 hours in a truck that smelled of wet mud, farts, feet and filthy dog. Cliffy and Fred made us feel like kings in their hood cooking delicious food, and we had a great time looking at pintails and geese flying around in their natural habitat, the sky.  I'm heading out tomorrow for one more chance at greatness.

GBCH

And Now, A Message From Jenny X.

A while back I received a call from O.G. H7HT member and New Hampshire redneck Jenny X. Many of you will remember that Jenny X is more than a member, but in fact the reason the H7HT was founded.  He took me on my first hunting trip to the local duck slaying grounds behind the High School back in the days before carrying a gun at the High School was considered a reason for arrest.
We shot nothing that day, a harbinger of things to come.

I recently received this email from Jenny about a problem he has had with a neighboring redneck.

Hello Bubba,

Just a quick recap of the tree stand story.

Nice hat

So on a nice fresh fallen snow afternoon, myself, awesome best buddy Ruger and I go into the X zone to visit my tried & true deer hunting grounds and tree stand. Hence, I see one set of human tracks into the X zone and I say to myself, hey who the F#$##$ has been around?? Granted I have occupied this territory for 10+ years if not more. At this time I am very comfortable in that I am packing my trusty S&M 1911/ 45, to say the least.  The confident tracking skills that I posses are not needed because the Mother F#$%$ that I tracked took me right to his stand and led me right back to mine.  He decided to cut the lock off take my stand, and the non conservationist that this Mother F#$%$ is left my lock on the ground for someone to pick up lest it be ME!!

At this point I am like a golden retriever on a whiff of a pheasant, I track the only foot prints in the snow back to his shack of a dwelling, poor son of a bitch, I only hope he sold the stand at the scrap yard to pay for some scent blocker for next season because he gonna need it. I being the non confrontation sort decided to not show up at the shit hole while packing, I have responsibilities ya know?? So I took my busted lock, tied it to his stand and directed my buddy to piss all over the area.  This will be just the beginning. Lets just say next fall I may have to purchase big fat stinky cigars and a gallon or 2 of coyote/fox piss and some of my own special internal Brew and take a stroll thru the X zone with my 45. 

Speaking of 45 degrees I remember when you and I passed a sign stating at breck you will die pass this point.  But we did it anyway Ahh GOOD TO BE YOUNG

Just a reminder here.  Regular readers will remember that Jenny is, among other things, a master of trap shooting, the local gun club champ, the father of X-treme skiing and the first H7HT member to own a fat bloated dog.  All subsequent members owe him a debt of gratitude. Thanks Jenny X for not confronting another New Hampshire redneck while packing a concealed weapon and being pissed off at the same time.  I can only hope that you will soon send in a picture of the shooting range you have created in your basement so that you can practice cilin' ducks that live below ground level.

GBCH

Bucket List

I don't have a bucket list, but if I did I would get to check this one off today.  Last night I drove a $350,000 Piston Bully snowcat.  I did a small amount of grooming and was a willing passenger in winch cat operations where the cat is tied off with a giant winch so that it can groom a slope of up to 45 degrees.  Holy crap!  I'm in love.

This morning I headed up to the mountain to ski the run I was part of grooming and, although it was raining at the cabin, it was pooping snow up top.  A creamy 4 to 7 had fallen and the wind had filled in all the imperfections I likely created when it was my turn to drive.  When my legs gave up it was still snowing hard and I'm certain that tomorrow I will be cursing a blue streak about not winning a billion dollars last Saturday.  At the bottom of my first run I ran into Clider and Trisha.  As you know Clider is 'The Expert' and Trisha is the second best female skier I know behind O.G. H7HT member and New Hampshire redneck, Jenny X. (side note, Jenny has a fabulous story of tree stand pilfering that he will hopefully share in the future, provided that he did not get shotten in the confrontation part of the story.  I have heard nothing from him since so I can only assume that it did not go well.)  As we were riding the lift up Clider asked me why I was not hunting in the rain down at Anderson.  I reminded him that I do not yet have a 2016 license and will soon be spending hours in a car with him and a smelly obese dog to go Killin' for the King. Incidentally, if I had a bucket list I'm fairly sure I will be able to check off 'Shootening My Limit of Greenies' and 'Winning Powerball' after this coming week.

Although I am now a non-certified snowcat operator I have also enclosed a picture of why I will not be checking off  'Helicopter Pilot' from my nonexistent bucket list.  My Sweetie gave me a new and improved remote helicopter for Christmas and, even though I am an Expert with my old Grey Thunder, the new Grey Lightning suffered a mighty jungle crash. There were no survivors.
GBCH

A Letter from the Cali Boyz

“Don’t get us kicked out of the club during an El Nino year!”

If that ain’t a motto to have tattooed on your forearm, I don’t know what is.  If you think I’m being dramatic, well, let me tell you boys, Zero Dark Muley (Kevin’s new handle, aka Cold Train Kev) and I upgraded out of the rice.  As a wise duck hunter once said, “the rice is dead.” Yep, we found ourselves in a high-high-high dollar club last year.  We left the rice and moved down Highway 5 to the northern grasslands where Teal and King Sprig rule and they are entertained all day with legions of Joker Spoonies.  Side note, nothing worse than a duck decoying in hot hot hot and helicoptering it to discover it was an orange feet and orange fat spoon digger. Any way, where was I?  Oh yeah, we started out with the best of intentions last year.  The plan was for Zero Dark Muley to move the trainer down the week before the opener and I’d fly in from a back east work trip the night before the opener, rendezvous, and hit the club.  Great plan, except when I landed and turned on my phone, I got the following voicemail: “Hey dude, I haven’t moved the trailer yet, come by my house after you land and we’ll pull it down tonight.”

I’m the definition of pissed upon hearing that because I know this shit is going to go south.  I land at 7p…by the time we hitch up and get to the club, we could find ourselves in a narrow parking with a 30’ travel trailer and no way to turn around.

Eff it…I guess that’s why they call it mutual destruction.  Well, fast forward…we arrive at the club at midnight and the entire place is a graveyard, everyone is asleep and we got Cold Train’s diesel engine growling and the gravel crunching beneath the tires.   We’re “those guys” right now and we survey the parking lot to see all of the trailer parking spots are taken.  We saw one “space” in between a pole barn and a power pole next to a canal that we thought could fit the trailer – maybe.  I don’t want to give Zero Dark Muley too much credit, but let me tell you, in one try ol’ Cold Train parted the red sea and backed that sumbitch in to a spot tighter than a gnats you know what with a first pitch walk off home run.

We stayed up another 3 hours celebrating how great our new spot was and finally turned in by 4a to get ready for the morning blind pick.  Or so we thought.  Turns out we parked in an off limit spot, but the next morning there were too many trucks that drove in to move it.  We like to call moments like this, the highest of highs and the lowest of lows.  So being the responsible types, we did the right thing and left a note on our trailer, “We will move our trailer next week – sorry.”

The problem was, we didn’t know how low we were about to sink.  Have I ever told you that Zero Dark Muley’s original Indian name was “Add an Hour?”  How’d he get that name?  Whatever time he told you he would be some where, just add an hour and that would be his actual arrival time.

Well, as it turned out, ol Add an hour became Add Six Weeks as his wife had their second baby and he went Seal team 6 dark on duck season.  The longer he stayed away from the club, the more pissed the club owner got upon seeing a 30’ travel trailer parked next to the canal in an area he was adamant he didn’t want anyone parked.  He left notes, left voicemails, he called me up in person and dropped more M*****Fers and C***Suckers in one sentence than I thought was possible.  Apparently our four letter descriptions were adjectives, verbs and nouns.

Anyway, I don’t mean to dwell in the past and keep talking about last year, but you can imagine how pissed the club owner was that Ol Add a Month parked in an off limits spot and then didn’t return to move it.

 So fast forward to this year, somehow we got invited back, which not everyone else in the club could say the same thing.  El Nino year is here so whatever we do, “don’t get kicked out of the club!”

Once we got through a slow November, the hunting has generally been decent with some lights out days.  I was out today (Jan 9^th) and got 6 teal and a Sprig.  I’ve had a few limits this year, as has Zero Dark Muley.  Had some slower days as well…at one point I hit rock bottom, thought about hanging up my cleats and retiring from this duck game, but that’s a story for another day.  For now, enjoy the video of some ducks flying around this morning taken from one of the other club members and a few pics of the club.

Hope all you Hoy 7 boys are well.

In Search of the X,

Gaucho Wino

I Won the Lottery!

Is what I will be saying this coming week when we travel to Oregon to participate in the annual tradition the has come to be know as Killin for the King.  Now, let me be the first to say that American Hero and Statesman Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King was likely not a duck hunter, and he also repeatedly advocated non violence towards all mankind.  I have found noting in his writings however that precluded violence towards ducks.

With that in mind, we will ruthlessly murder all the green headed bastards that come our way.  I have enclosed a photo of last years KFTK week* and fully expect that this year will be even better.  I have a few questions to pose though:

Will Cliffy hunt with us?

Will I forget my wikki?

Will there be a pintail cil in KFTK week?

Are the Cali Clan still alive and hunting?

Waylon or Peat? Who will be the humpee?

Will Fred G. be a man and buy a hunting vehicle?

Will Clider defer the first Greenie shot?

Who will be the first to fall into the mighty Columbia?

How many greenies will I shoot? (answer 21)

Waylon or Peat? Who will make the first retreive?

Rain or no rain?

North Unit of Sauvies Island?

Who will shoot a decoy?

What is the square root of 7?

Is there any rhyme or reason to this list?

No.  these are just things I wonder about as I wait to collect my impending lottery winnings.  Winnings I will surely be entitled to scant days from now.  I am buying one ticket after all.  I hope all these questions and more will be answered soon, and they will.  Stay tuned and may Heston be with you.

*Not actually from last year's Killin fot the King