Greenies For Everybody!

Today's photo is blurry on purpose.  It's the spot Clider always shoots ducks and he does not want the throngs of blog readers to know where we are.  Did I say Clider always shoots ducks here?  Well, Otis does too, and today I was fortunate enough to be invited along with not one, but two great slayers.  The kayak ride in was interesting and somewhat challenging in the heavy duty waders I was told to wear.  After overheating paddling and dragging my full kayak it turned out none of my gear was needed.  A minimalist spread was set and it was on right from the opening bell.

Otis cil'd first, then Clider, then even I one shotted a nice greenie. Ducks were flying everywhere and even though I felt not well concealed the ducks just wanted in. Oh, did I mention they were all mallards?  They were.  The only shot taken on a non-mallard was a teal that Otis knocked dead and a goose that he blasted as well.  Both Otis and Clider were off on a walk when another teal landed just next to me and swam off.  Turns out it was the teal that Otis shotten and it decided that hanging out at his feet for 10 minutes was long enough. It swam off never to be seen again.

I missed on no less than 3 great greenie shots and right as we were discussing pulling up for the day I finally got my 2nd of the day.  A great day for me but better for both Otis and Clider.  Otis left with a goose and 6 ducks that may have been all greenies. Clider added to his count by taking 5 greenies and a hen.  Stupid 'Expert'.  How will I ever catch up if I continue to shoot with my gun not connected to my shoulder but braced on my elbow?  I won't.  The only good news is tomorrow we may be right back at the same area.  If I had to name it, I'd call it "double secret probation".
GBCH

Founders Tour 2017. Day 2.

How could it get any worse, right?
I set the bar so low on day 1 of the Founders Tour that we certainly could not get any lower.  I took Fred G on his first kayak ride around in circles until we got mere feet away from where we started, showed him no ducks and even managed to lower expectations to the point where even taking a shot at a duck would seem lively.  A great start to the trip.  Then we got started on Day 2.

After loading up all our gear into my trailer for the weekend retreat and solving all the worlds problems in one night of spirited swilling, we were off at a nice early 4am.  We would have had time to get to Harrison and drop off the trailer at our rental home for the weekend and still have plenty of time to meet Clider at The Blind and shoot many ducks. Heck, I even had a big surprise up my sleeve.  All things seemed possible.  Traveling down I-90 at a reasonable 65mph the left wheel of my trailer fell off.  We were lucky that it got hung up inside the wheel well of the trailer or else it may have passed us as we were spitting sparks and fishtailing off the road.  We immediately stopped on the side of the highway, pressed against a guardrail and a good solid 6 inches of shoulder separating us from the early morning traffic that could not see us until they got to the corner we were on. Crap Monkey!

I run brand new tires on the Jeep, and good ones of an identical rim/tire on the trailer so I never plan on dealing with a flat that can't be driven on or Les Schwab'd easily.  I don't carry a jack or lug-wrench.  That's a mistake.  With the tire completely off the trailer we had no choice but to not easily disconnect the trailer (it's on one wheel and a hub after all) and head off to get a jack.  Keep in mind it's 4:30am and the trailer is black.   Traffic, although light, is terrifying at 75mph on the I-90.  Fred G volunteered to stay behind with our flashing headlamps so nobody would take the corner and run into our crap that was just inches from being in the travel lane.  I turned around in Rose Lake and was lucky to have a nice lady working the Conoco gas station that lent us what we needed. "You want some kind of deposit?"  "No, just be safe young man."  Back at the trailer Fred was calmly telling me when cars would approach as I tried to reconnect the tire to a hub with 2 bent lugs.  Nearing the end of cobbling the thing together I noticed an Idaho State Trooper turning around to help us.  He pulled in behind and asked how things were going.

Sidebar: At 4:45am 2 guys wearing all camo with a broken trailer, loaded with guns and beer, inches from the travel lane, don't raise any kind of flag here in North Idaho. No further inquiry was needed from this nice Trooper and he went back to his prowler to wait out our dilemma. We were very happy he did not ask any further questions or ask for ID, license, insurance or come too close to us. Remember, the night before, only hours actually, we had solved all the worlds problems. Potential 'Big Problem' averted.

With the wheel barely back on we made it to the Rose lake exit and regrouped.  The Trooper pulled in minutes later along with yet another and merely waved as we worked on getting the wheel tight.  The stress was high my friends.  As we took off for Harrison it didn't take long to realize that our hamfisted assembly wasn't working and I needed to uncouple yet again and go back to my house to get the right socket and wrench combo to get the wheel and spacer back on tight.  I woke my Sweetie to tell her it was just me banging around at 6am and not a crazed killer in our garage. I told her about our trials and tribulations and she responded with a sleepy "oh" then back to sleep. Finally back to Rose Lake and back on the road. I was likely going somewhere between 7 and 9 mph the rest of the way to Harrison as my trust in my trailer construction skills was devastated.  Fred G was silent.

Finally making it to our home away from home we unloaded the 'trailer of problems' and worked our way out to The Blind. Keep in mind it's now aboot 10am and the morning couldn't get much worse.  Lowered bar and all.  On the walk out we ran into Clider and his Lady digging a deep hole.  Crap monkey.  Fred G and I did the best we could with being helpful and sat quietly in The Blind as Clider took care of the sad work at hand. After they left we halfheartedly threw out some blocks and tried to hunt for a couple more hours. It was unsuccessful at best.  Before pulling up and heading back to our home away from home, which paled in comparison to last years, I did have at least one opportunity to shoot at a duck.  I winged it and even after some 3 1/2" steel thrown its way it swam off. My 2nd NR of the season.  I now sat at a 0 duck count and Fred had 0 to show for two days of me hosting him.  At this point I considered the bar to be lower than ever.  Good job Bob D.  So far the worst Founders Tour ever.

However, I still had an ace up my sleeve.

GBCH
R.I.P. PtBH.

Solo Day at The Point.

Or: "Should Have Brought the Kayak"

Regular readers will know that I am, in addition to being a once and future 'Expert', a ski guy.  Well, this year I signed up to learn the fine art of driving a snowcat and grooming ski runs for a living.  The schedule is somewhat unpredictable at this time of the year and it so-happened that I had today off.  So I took the duck by the horns and went hunting.  I asked Clider if he could go so that I could have known for a fact that I would be exactly where the greenies wanted to be but he was busy with his job as just another ski guy.  I made the call to go to The Point not only because I had not done any scouting, but also because that's where I go just about all the time.  The only question I had last night was weather to bring the kayak or not.  After a day of replacing growser bars (snowcat treads) in the cold of the cat shop and then spending hours on end taking pictures in the snow so Clider could take credit for my mad photo skills, I was chilled to the bone when I got home.  The last thing I wanted to do was load up the kayak on top of the Jeep in the dark while it was a balmy 65 degrees in my house. A steamy shower was waiting so I just went with my carry bag.

Fast forward to this morning.  Walk out to warm up. Dakotas looking great in the channel. Time to properly settle. Morning fly working perfect. Everything going great. 
No ducks.
Flying.
Landing.
Working my decoys.
Nothing.

My new ride

This is where I should have brought the kayak.  In the spot Clider always wants to hunt to my left there were 50+ mallards quacking away.  In the bay to my right another 100+ mallards are quacking away.  All the ducks flying are landing in one of those two spots completely ignoring my spread. If I had a kayak I could at least go scare them up or even move my rig to go where they are. But I'm stuck on the sidelines watching.  Many geese flew right over me but I'm not looking to shoot them, I want Greenie.  So finally I took a walk out to my left and ended up in boot sucking mud up to my knees.  I did manage to put up the 50+ on the left, then taking a walk back on the path, scare up the 100+ on the right, who went and landed in Uncle Delbert's cove far away.  I figured I would just wait them out and they would come back and see me but anything that did come back went right back to where they started.  I called it a day and came home to dust off the kayak and wait for next time.  Next time is going to be great!
GBCH

First Walk OR Chapter Day One

The longest journey starts with the first step, how many times have you heard that before? No scouting necessary where I go, just plain commitment.  Last night I wasn't feeling so okay, a case of the dyspepsia I think.  Went to bed super early with the rain and wind blowing down the pipe, it sounded ducky.  I woke at 5 am packed and ready to go, rain subsided wind still blowing.  I think to myself, self, what what? How pleasant it will be to drive 20 minutes to the best hunting spot, that I know.  Make it to the highway, I'm going through the mental checklist and realize that my gun is still leaning against the wall in my house.  Seems to be a common thing with me these days.  

Make it to the lot and there are two trucks already dark.  I'm not worried there is going to be plenty of space out there plus with the deluge of water recently the water will be up, giving me the advantage.  Slip my pack on, which seemed really heavy, and scoobied dood out to the point.  On my way out two guys were on fat tire bikes coming right at me with the brightest headlamps ever, we exchange "mornings" and keep going.  I'm assuming at this point that they are shuttling gear back and forth and now my pack feels heavier.  I make it to the exit for the point and many trees have fallen over the path out and make it very difficult to make it to the water.  I said water I meant to say sand bars.  There was no water.  There were no other guys setting up.  Just me.  I make it to the point and put my blocks into the channel they look sublime in the current.  Find the best cover possible and wait.  There is no "settle" time due to the fact that I left my gun home and had to go back.  

Thoughts of wonder go through my head because I have a lot of time due to the lack of birds flying.  "Were those guys hunters?  or were they vagrants? homeless?  nice bikes for homeless people.  Are they going to smash my windows?"  I can't believe that I'm thinking about city stuff way out here while I'm hunting.  

I give it until 10 and call it.  Saw some high flyers not wanting me, probably because I looked like a polished turd in a punchbowl.  Shlep my way back to my secure car and head home.


Water Level at 7am 4ft

I Only Go For the Exercise!

I decided to go scouting on Saturday in order to knock out another smooth greenie limit on Sunday.  Mo and I hit the road and glassed everything up to the Swan Lake viewpoint.  We even went for a walk near Medimont in order to enjoy the weather and get a look into some hard to see areas. There were quite a few birds in the marshy end of Medicine lake, but everything else was devoid of life.  It seemed like everyone was hunkered down in the hard to scout areas out of sight. No matter, I had a spot, and I know it rarely gets hunted.

I woke up, rolled out of bed, and started getting dressed.  It hit me then, half dressed, standing in the nearly dark living room. "Go back to bed, that spot is a mucky mess and there is no cover.  Plus, it seems like nothing wants to work it if you blow the morning fly", thanks brain.  I stood there motionless at 4:30 for five solid minutes.  I was already up, the pan was warming up for bacon, and the kayak was loaded.  I should go, this spot was loaded with mallards and gooseys and I'm going to be busy this week so I should get out while I can. My can-do attitude won, and I was out the door a few minutes later.

I arrived at my spot, launched the kayak and started paddling.  Soon I ran out of water, and discovered that I could drag the boat through the mud as long as some of my body weight was supported by the boat. Every step was up to my knee in thick smelly mud.  After 200 feet of sweating and slowly dragging I set out my twelve blocks and covered my boat up with nasty grass from the muskrat hut I was wedged against.  Ten minutes before shooting time the jerks out at Hidden Lake and Killarney decided they couldn't wait any more and started what would be almost continuous shooting for the next two hours.

Once the sun came up it became obvious that I was a picture perfect representation of that classic "turd in a punch bowl"look.  Birds wanted nothing to do with me, and as the sun came up it would only get worse.  I packed up my gear and dragged my way back out into the lake.  I moved my setup down to a slightly less terrible location and hung out there for a little while, but the birds knew what was up so I packed it in for the day.

On the way home I swung out to Bull Run and drove all the way back to the end of the road. Here I was greeted with the sight of several acres of wetland completely covered with mallards. I thought about leaving them, but I know the weather is going to change very quickly. So, once again I did the boat drag, this time at least it was on dry land. I scared up the most birds I've ever seen in one place and set out a six block spread.  Everything moved out to the center of the water and left me alone.  Board, tired, and soaked in sweat, I did the long haul back in and finally went home.

Today was a reminder that some places don't get hunted because they are terrible and almost impossible to hunt.  I almost scouted that Bull Run area the day before, and it turns out my theory about everything being in hidden areas is correct.  I could have taken ten more minutes and done the homework the day before, and I think it would have resulted in today  being one of craziest days ever.  Today did reinforce the importance of proper concealment, scouting, and listening to my own brain.  Birds are educated, cautious, and sticking to out of the way areas, at the same time the water is dropping and the grass is starting to lay down.  The winter snow blast is coming, we'll see what happens next.

Founders Tour 2017 Day One

Founders Tour 2017 started off like every other tour started.  Provisions of ammo, new gear, vittles, and, life blood.  We arrive at Bob's cabin and get our gear ready for the first epic day of the tour.    The weather is supposed to be extremely ducky, cold weather pushing snow from the north.  I'm informed that our first day out we are going to go out on kayaks to a real tasty spot on Kilarney Lake.  I'm a little skeptical, never having been on a kayak in the pitch dark of the morning.  Without daylight savings time in effect yet we wake up at a reasonable hour of 4:45 am.  Now Kilarney is not as far as Anderson Lake, maybe half the distance and since we are completely packed, we're in the water by 5:30.  Not having used a boat like that I jump in and start paddling while Bob is parking the truck.  Thinking I know where we are headed I point myself in the direction and I'm off.  5 minutes later Bob is calling for me to follow him apparently I'm headed in the wrong direction.  Upon catching up to him my headlamp goes dead, now it's up to me to follow him in the pitch dark.  After 30 minutes of paddling in the dark Bob seems turned around, reasonably so it's very hard to see anything out there, a smart person would have found a point in the sky or horizon and head for that.  Bob decides this is where we're going to hunt until the sun comes up some.

6:00 am now.  An hour and 4 minutes for the all powerful settle* time before the opening bell.  As we sit there we notice that trucks are dumping off air boats at "a" boat ramp.  Seeing that we paddled left from "our" boat ramp that there must be another boat ramp on the lake, which we know there is not.  Turned around we are.  When the sun breaks the morning sky we realize that we are directly across from the boat ramp that we pushed off from this morning, approximately 100 yards away.  Some how we paddled around for 30 minutes to be 100 yards from where we started.

Bob's next decision,  pick and head to where he wanted to be in the first place.  Pick up, reset, and, sit.  By actually moving it set the bar that much lower.  Nothing seen nothing shotten.  But what a day!

*Definition of settle.  The time Bob DaFolder likes to have before the opening bell to let things settle.  A point of contention with all members of the H7HT.

Welcome Our New Member.

Andy!

The man formerly known as Clayton (AKA Clayton the poacher) will heretofore be known as Andy. The name Clider gave him.  It is becoming a tradition that the newest member has the responsibility of naming the New Guy.  Clider, named by Cliffy, received that honor as someone finally took up the challenge of joining the team.  Andy was just a skier with a bad knee when he called and told me that he re-purposed a Browning over under as his new duck murdering device.  And like any new hunter we asked him to come hunt with us in the tradition of showing people how we do it here at the H7HT.  Turns out the crazy bastard said yes.  Big mistake.

You will soon hear about how Andy braved the elements to take up the mantle of the 4th spot vacated by Cliffy this year.  Seems Cliffy's boss at the candy store wants him to run around with lollipops and pop rocks falling from his hands and out of his pockets at all hours of the day.  It must be tough for Cliffy to get 'The Sugar' while a new guy slays his birds.  And slay he did.

This picture is the only one I could take as he was generally shooting the whole time.  The whole time!  Notice the 'steely' glint in his eye as he shot steel for the first time. Sure his old over under may have only shot 2 3/4" lead but after shooting some ducks with real mans ammo he realized that becoming part of the H7HT is the greatest accomplishment of his life*. Welcome Andy.

GBCH.

*likely not the greatest accomplishment of his life.

I Only Shoot Greenies

My seat is in the reeds up close on the left.

Day 3 of the regular season comes on the heals of a strange weekend.  I have no photos from the Founder's Tour, and I was in a strange place mentally during it.  I will leave the story telling to the founders, and I will touch on why I was out of sorts in a forthcoming post.  The only thing I have for you here about that weekend, is that I wasn't shooting very well.  In fact, my shooting was possibly the worst it's been in years.  I shotten at a lot of locked up and great looking birds, but after around 30 shells, I had two greenies in my hands.  I'm not complaining about the birds, they were working all day, it was me.

Another note from the tour was that scouting works, and that I should do it.  So after a long lunch on Tuesday I had a solid plan for what to do when contractors kicked me out of my office to do work on Wednesday.  I was on the road at 1:00, and headed to Spot X.  Bob D was exhausted from taking care of Fred all weekend so he passed on the opportunity  to get "limits of greenies".  Who can blame him, I mean Fred G walked in Bob's shoes for an afternoon and it nearly killed him, imagine doing that for a whole week. Napping was earned fair and square.

I had determined that this spot was where the birds would be loading into for the night, so imagine my surprise when easily a thousand mallards took off at the sight of my kayak. I was fairly sure I just scared everything out for the day, but at the same time I've seen birds keep coming back to the place they really want to be.  I threw out my little spread, hid my boat, and settled in for what was to come.

After just ten minutes or so my first henny landed just 25 feet away, followed by two more singles.  I only shoot greenies, so naturally I waited.  It wasn't long before a pair of drakes landed close by and then swam into the spread.  I booglie booed them and managed to knock down the one on the right. It was a little touch and go, but was able to finish him off a ways out.  The two feet of boot sucking mud made every step a chore, and I found myself wondering why I didn't hop in my boat.  After I was completely soaked in sweat, I settled back in and waited.

More hens came in, and then what can only be described as a mallard tropical storm descended on my blind. I was surrounded by hundreds of mallards, maybe a thousand. they were moving in every direction, and they were landing just a few feet from me by the droves.  I was so taken in by the whole thing that filming it seemed more appropriate than shooting, but in my struggle to get the camera out I was identified by the swarm and they started leaving. I picked one out and dropped it with a single shot.

Over the course of the next two hours there were a few lulls, but birds were working for the most part. Singles and doubles were committing left and right. My furthest shots were at maybe 50 feet, and the closest were at 20. I had a henny get so close I tried batting it away with my barrel.  After my weekend of misses I had come to the conclusion, I have gotten used to shooting close. I passed on a lot of shots, not wanting to assume a gender, and I only shot at birds I was confident about. I bagged every bird I shot at, even if it took a few shots.

Just 15 minutes before the official end of shooting for the day I was able to start pulling up my spread.  It was a good thing too, I had a Zumba class to get to, and there wasn't enough time to stay till the end, and hit class.  I think I  might be the only person in history that went straight from the duck blind to Zumba.

My name is Clider, and I only shoot Greenies!

Day 1&2 of the regular season.

Day 1 of duck season saw me up in the mountains camping in a yurt, and chasing deer and elk in circles.  It was the first time since I started hunting that I missed opening weekend, and so I figured I might as well miss two weeks worth and give Bob D and crew a little head start.

Day one for me started out with boats and Bob, an unusual combination for a man that hates boats.  But there we were, paddling out to a spot just East of the blind.  We set a small spread, covered up the boats and got ready for the slaying. It wasn't long before greenie numero uno of the 2017 season came in from the left, and Bob decided to just let me have it since I had a late start.  I took him up on his offer and landed my first bird.

With one on the board things were looking up.  Soon another greenie came in on my right, and as he was about to land, I pulled up and completely whiffed it.  He laughed his way out of sight and we went back to waiting.  As the day went on I was able to keep my shooting to a minimum and pull down another two green headed bastards. Sitting at 3 and O, I watched a nice fat, slow greenie come in from my side. I let it pass over to Bob's side, and he just sat there looking down so as not to disturb it at it lazily floated above our spread. Bob D decided to let greenie live another day and didn't so much as shoulder his gun.

We enjoyed the great weather for a little while and then headed back the car.  It was a great way to start the season, and it set me on a path that I will try to maintain for as long as I can stand it. I am Clider, and I only shoot greenies.

Day 2 of  the season was really just an hour and a half.  I had done a little mountain biking and decided I'd try my hand at a quick evening hunt.  I headed up the road to SPOT X, place that I'm not going to identify on here anymore, as it only takes a couple people to overload it and god knows how many locals are reading this.  I did a lot of kayak dragging due to the water being low, but after a lot of messing about I was finally out on the water.

10 blocks went out in minutes, and then I settled into my chair and waited for the onslaught. It was at this time I remembered how important scouting was.  Nothing was flying, and after an hour I hadn't even seen a seagull. The time was winding down for the end of shooting time, and the wind was ripping away all my body heat.  The sunset was beautiful, and I was about ready to pack it in when a trio of divers came into view fully locked up. They landed far out away from me, but it gave me a little hope.

Just ten minutes before it was time to pack up a pair of mallards made a B-line for my tiny spread. I waited until they were about 5 feet off the deck, and then unloaded my first two rounds in front of the greenie. He was battling the wind, and so my shots were well ahead of him.  I corrected for the crazy amount of wind and dropped him him right into my spread.  The day was over, and I was happy to have seen ducks, let alone be taking one home.