Thanks A Lot, Other Hunters.

Yesterday was my opening day.

Silly golfers and a regular job kept me busy right through opening weekend so I had no chance to go hunting with Clider and the 100 pound retrieving machine named Peat.  When I texted him to ask how his day went he worked around the answer, likely learned from the recent Trump debate performance, and would not tell me if he was 'The Expert' or not.  I figured he must have shotten his limit of fat greenies and not wanted to make me feel bad when my day produced nothing but hen widgeon. So I decided to go to The Point to keep with my tradition of going nowhere else, ever.  What can I say, I love The Point.

All my gear was old and untested, nothing new, gun not cleaned or shotten in months, battery uncharged on my spinner, blocks pulled from the shed the night before, I was ready. Of course I slept poorly that night so I was up early and ready for the ride. But something was off. Something disturbed me as I drove past a car pulled off to the side of the road on the other side of the bridge.  I even pulled over and cut my lights looking for signs of life near my spot.  My Spot. The place where I always hunt. The place I just freshened up for a cool $14,000 days before. Hmmm.

It wasn't until I got to the parking lot and had my gear loaded that I saw the two headlamps moving down the path. I yelled across the river and asked if they were going to that point out there. Yes, they were.  Like a rocket I was back in the Jeep headed to The Blind where we just spent many many dollars making it invisible to the birds.  I only had seconds to settle in after setting a good looking spread of Dakotas and my jerk rig. The water was flat and the cloud cover made it hard to see but I could hear birds working around the spread.  I strained to see if they were the tons of Brandt we had seen days before or fat ducks. Minutes into my my morning rituals a lone duck landed in the center of the spread 20 yards out.  I could see in the pale light a head darker than the body and that it was big enough to be a greenie.  The duck swam around my blocks and seemed unconcerned when I jumped up and pointed the Benelli its way. Even the ole' Boogely Boogely Boo didn't bother it. I sat back down and figured since I could't shoot it maybe it would bring in more ducks, they were everywhere.

After what was likely only 2 minutes she jumped and I grabbed my gun and shot quickly.... and accurately! One in the water, later to find out it's a hen Canvasback.  I've never shotten a Can before but was sad about the hen part. There was no wind and the birds weren't really working my spread so I set up the spinner off to my right. About halfway back into the blind two birds immediately locked up to land. I grabbed my gun off the bench and another quick shot downed a second bird, another hen. Patience, I needed some patience.

In no time a pair of greenies came from my left and another quick two shots took down the back bird. I let him sit there because he wasn't going anywhere and there was little wind to take him away. I was feeling better about having waited to be sure I was taking a drake and Heston rewarded my patience. Later when I picked him from the water I saw his bedazzled leg.  My first banded bird.  I think I was still grinning when the next double came in and I one shotted another greenie.  Holy Heston! I could do no wrong.

Self inflicted black eye.

As we all know from reading anything on this site, being a H7HT member never means being able to 'do no wrong'. My newfound smugness was crushed by the beautiful greenie that I missed three times coming straight in. Or the ones that flew 10 feet out slow and in perfect shooting range that I never saw until they passed. And especially the gigantic bird that must have been Greenie himself that landed while I was not looking.  He sat just beyond my decoys and was bigger by half than my Dakota greenhead block. Huge. Huge I say, and smart. Watching the blind the whole time, not being able to see me but knowing full well something wasn't right.  Too smart to mix with my blocks but still taunting me by just floating there and watching. Fully 10 minutes passed. Finally I could stand no more and figured to get the jump on him but as soon as I moved to stand he lifted off and, after an initial flight right, turned back left. I missed all 3 shots.

I knew then it was time to go. My luck had run it's course, my lesson was almost complete.  I packed my gear and with an extra 4 birds in my bag pulled hard on the string to tighten the top.  It broke and I punched myself in the eye. Hard. Yep, my day was done.

Thanks a lot other hunters. It was perfect.

GBCH