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

Seasonings Greenwings

Silent morn

Snowy morn

Blocks are set

Feet are warm

Soon the opening bell will sound

Patiently wait for ducks to come round

Shoot when their feet are down

Only when the feet come down

Silent blind

Concealed blind

There we sit

Peace of mind

Knowing that ducks soon will fly in

Their little black hearts so full of sin

Benellis ready to commit to them

Ready to shoot at them

Silent Greenie

Stealthy Greenie

Big and fat

Nice and meaty

You can’t see us as you fly in

Guns come up and shots do ring

Sleep in Hestonly peace

Sleep in Hestonly peace

I Don't Have ESP.

Know that time of morning when you aren't really sleeping but you're not quite awake?  That time when you could be dreaming, or maybe just thinking on a semi-conscious level?  Well 2 nights ago I had a 'dream' that was clear as day and terrific in subject matter.  I was at the new blind on The Tip and a mass of Greenies were coming in to land.  There must have been 15 to20 in the group and they were all spiraling around and right over my decoys.  The first of the French Canadian bastards was just aboot to touch down with his big orange feet out when I stood up and dropped him.  Just as fast my second shot took out the one to the left of him as they were pulling up and my third shot, which took a few seconds more, folded a third as he was turning to leave.  I watched them drop into the water in front of the new blind and felt the euphoria of shooting a triple.  Shortly after I woke and started to get ready for work.

That day at work I called Clider to find out what he had going the next day.  He and Otis had made a plan to hunt and we shortly discussed going to The Blind as the water is back to November levels due to all the rain (not snow) we have been getting.  I knew that I had to go to The Tip and Clider decided to choose Kilarney instead.  Maybe he will tell us about it someday.

The forecast called for large quantities of rain or snow and I woke early just in case I had to drive the Swedish Truck through tons of snow, but sadly it was just pouring rain.  I passed Cliders truck and boat at the gas station in Rose Lake on my way and got to Anderson with time to spare.  The drenching rain did nothing to help me set up but the stiff wind helped the decoys look the part.  I realized then that in the dream it was sunny and clear but, whatever.  The rain turned to snow.  It snowed harder.  Geese flew by nowhere near me.  The wind died off.  No ducks flew. I slowly came to the realization that I don't, in fact, have ESP. 

I did take this picture though.  I don't think it can do justice to how wet the back of my neck and wrists to elbows were but I still have to admit that I had a great day watching the snow and scenery while not being at work.  Next time I will remember the classic line from everyone's favorite movie, "Why do you have to mess with the fantasy?  We know the reality, don't mess with the fantasy" 
GBCH

Said the morning sun to us in the blind
Heston blessed the H7HT
Your shooting skills are perfect and sublime
Heston blessed the H7HT
A duck, a duck
flying towards our gun
Soon, his flying will be done
Yes his flying will be forever done

Said the gusting wind to us at sunrise
Heston blessed the H7HT
I'll blow some ducks to you from up high
Heston blessed the H7HT
A duck, a duck
dropping towards the spread
Shots ring out they are dead
Benellis ringing out and they are dead

Said the driving rain to us at midday
Heston blessed the H7HT
Low flying ducks are yours alone to slay
Heston blessed the H7HT
A duck, a duck
flying low across the water
Next thing he is part of the slaughter
next thing he knows he is part of the slaughter

Said the falling snow to us at night
Heston blessed the H7HT
I'll bring you ducks tomorrow so sleep tight
Heston blessed the H7HT
A duck, a duck
sleeping in the dark
The only safe place is the park
the only safe place for you is the park


Heston Bless us, every one!

Songs from years past....

Hoy7 hunting team, Hoy7 hunting team, we slay more than the others.
Hoy7 hunting team, Hoy7 hunting team, we kill greenies not their mothers.
Some other teams don't have the skills, and hardly as many kills.
Hoy7 hunting team, Hoy7 hunting team, we are the best damn folders.
Hoy7 hunting team, Hoy7 hunting team, we build the best concealed blinds.
Hoy7 hunting team, Hoy7 hunting team, our spreads of decoys look so fine.
The ducks come in and good they feel, but they will soon be full of steel.
Hoy7 hunting team, Hoy7 hunting team, your jealousy is so well grounded.

Each week we go out to fold, impervious to the rain and cold.
Hoy7 hunting team, Hoy7 hunting team, we are the best team ever.

Migration Alert: Oregon Waterfowl Distribution Sporadic Due to Storm, Mild Temps

Last week's hurricane-force Pacific Flyway windstorm came on the heels of ample rain from Mexico to Northern California. Oregon's ducks and geese were blown off the coast and many have found substantial habitat throughout Willamette Valley, forcing waterfowlers to scout and react to regional migrations.

Numbers increased dramatically around Fern Ridge, near Eugene, north to Salem by late last week and hunting has been good throughout the valley. Hunters have been bagging as many as three birds a piece in the Fern Ridge Wildlife Area controlled-hunt blinds. Northern pintails showed up near Ankeny and Baskett Slough National Wildlife Refuges, and teal are in abundance farther south at William L. Finley National Wildlife Refuge.

As mild weather continues, the ducks will begin spreading out again and many will likely return to coastal bays over the next couple of weeks.

Thousands of mallards and divers (mostly scaup) in the lower Columbia River Basin moved upriver, with a good number of birds blown so far off course that no one is quite sure where they ended up. Northern Puget Sound may be a possibility, given better reports out of Padilla Bay and Skagit Flats. Those birds will likely stay put until another freeze pushes them south.

Hunting has improved from Wauna and the lower island/refuge waters up to Deer Island on the lower Columbia River.

Waterfowlers on the public Sauvie Island Wildlife Area near Portland have not been so fortunate. Warm, balmy temperatures followed the storm and have ducks rafted in the middle of Sturgeon Lake's sanctuary zone, says area manager Mark Nebeker.

"They're here," Nebeker reports, “but there's no reason for them to go anywhere."

Torrid hunting in the upper Columbia Basin out of Umatilla has slackened somewhat at McCormack Slough. Hunters heading into the interior should be aware that the federal hunting area at McCormack will be closed on December 24 and 25.

Decent duck numbers have been reported along the Columbia River shorelines from The Dalles to McNary Dam, especially from Tower Road upriver past Irrigon. Roosting birds have been coming and going, utilizing nearby cornfields.

Oregon's Columbia River shoreline is open in many areas that were closed, including Arlington and Phillipi Canyon. Weather conditions can make access tricky, but the opportunities exist for those willing to try. Wintering scaup typically linger between The Dalles and Celilo.

In southeastern Oregon, mild weather has also stalled southward migration in the high desert. Last week's counts at Summer Lake Wildlife Area, which is typically frozen by this time of year, included 23,400 ducks and 1,400 geese.

$628.18 For a New Blind

Preliminary perfection

With a full day of hunting at the 'Other Other Side' I convinced Clider to help build a new blind at 'The Tip'.  All it took was a ham Sammy and the belief that we were just going to set a couple stakes in the ground while it was still warm and muddy enough to do that.

Active perfection

I know that soon enough there will be a hard freeze and much lower water levels and we will be hard pressed to find open water that doesn't involve death defying boat trips into the river.  We had packed stakes, hammer, twine and shears (not the big shears, or my chair for that matter) in the truck before heading out to watch ducks today so we were ready to build.  If you look hard at the first photo you will see that other, less thoughtful, hunters had left us some beer cans and lots of empty shells at 'The Tip'.  As Clider was pounding stakes I set to cutting grass.  He was stymied by the act of stringing twine so I took over and soon enough we had this fine looking blind you see here.  It even has a backdrop built in so nothing coming from behind us will be able to realize we are ready to drop them from the sky like a bag of feathered bricks.  Good luck avoiding us suckers!

Only time will tell if the new 'Tip' blind will be something we use soon or weeks from now but one thing is sure.  It was $628.18 well spent.

6 Aged hardwood stakes @ $100 ea.
1 Roll hemp alloy twine @ $28.00
2 Guys labor @ $0.09 per hour
GBCH @ free

Same As it Ever Was

Beautiful EH?

After a super long week of feeding and dish washing the only thing I was up for on Sunday was just hanging out on my couch with a bag of peanuts and Irish Coffee's.  Come night time cold and wind arrived, buckets of wind.  I set my alarm to bankers hours, remember there's a gate and it don't open until 6am. During the night I was awakened to wind howling down the 80.  Sleep was at a minimal and every time I awoke I thought it was way to windy to hunt.  The alarm goes off just as I dozed off, wind still seeping through the windows and  the same thoughts are running through my head with visuals of trees breaking and ducks flying upside down. " If it's this windy here imagine what it's like out on the river" I think to myself.  I drag my ass out of bed and check computer for water levels and wind speed in the Gorge.  Water down, wind at a steady 18 mph with 29 mph gusts.  Then the "is it live or is it memorex" day flashes in my head. This might be pretty good if I set up right, now visions of ducks stalled with gear down is in my head and I smile.  

Arrive at the park at a reasonable 6:05.  I'm at my spot, blocks set and a really nice blind built by 7am.  I enjoy the 20 minutes I have before cilling.  Quiet, sun rising over hood and the wind not so bad.  A set of mallards even fly over, "the'll be back" I thought.  Well the only thing that did fly in was a hen mallard, gear down wanting to party.  I put a bead on her then realized she was a she and I pulled off, I'll wait for what I came for.  It was about 8am and she hung out looking real good in the spread for about 20 minutes.  Now I'm second guessing myself.  Should I have taken the easy cill?  If the good  lord Heston givest, shouldn't I taketh? After awhile I convinced my self I did the right thing I don't need to pad my total with hen mallards, I need Canadians!

11am I call it.  It's turned into the typical hunt out on our Old Spot Point.  Blue skies, high wind and no ducks to be seen.  I'm happy with day.  Beautiful sunrise, awesome blind and a great view. And you might find yourself living in a shotgun shack, And you might find yourself in another part of the world. 

GBCH

Super Glue for Wound Closure

Instructions

1. • 1
     Stop the blood for the most part. Take a rag, paper towel, extra napkins, your shirt or whatever you have. Apply direct pressure to the area and if possible raise that part of your body above your chest. Apply the type of pressure you'd apply to a thumb tack when you're putting it into a wall.
   • 2
     Once the blood slows significantly, you're ready to close the wound. If you have the water, now would be a good time to use it. Pour the water over the open cut as this will clean it. If you don't have any, that's OK also. Squeeze the two sides of the cut together.
   • 3
     While holding both sides of the cut, add a small bead of super glue down the entire length of the cut. Hold cut closed for 3 minutes while the glue dries. If there was excess blood, repeat the process. The glue will stop most of the bleeding and it will close most cuts needing stitches.

Idaho Mega Post

I have been a big ol slacker, again. So here is the season so far,

Day's 1- 5 or so

Bob loaned me his .410 and I went along on some beautiful bird watching trips, I even shotten from time to time.  I missed 100% of the time but I had fun getting out and about.  I learned that looking through the wrong eyeball is hard to resist.






The Sunday before the Tour of Champions,

 Otis and I went out with his friend Chris, who had never duck hunted before.   It was my first time back out with the 12ga, which I was still nervous about.  We set up at the blind and had decent action all morning, almost every time I stood up ducks came in.  While I was leaving the blind, while I was coming back in, while I was peeing.  Chris wore earplugs all day so he could never hear us telling him to hold still, Chris scared a lot of birds but he had a lot of fun too.

After a while a canvasback hen came through feet down and crossing left to right.  My first shot out of the 870 for 2015 and first canvasback in the bag ever.  We had more shooting before we called it and walked out with a pack that was way too heavy again.  I learned that earplugs are stupid and that my backpack is always overloaded.










The Tour of Champions can only be summed up in pictures. 

Jake & Teal

On the way back from the Tour of Champions I spotted a lot of birds hanging out on Medicine Lake, on Thanksgiving they were still there.  So the next morning I arrived at the pullout only to find someone in my carefully scouted spot.  It was a big jacked up truck, sky blaster for sure.  He was unloading the last of his gear as I pulled up.

I pulled up and asked if he was set up where I thought he was, he was.  Before I pulled out to find another spot, he asked if I'd like to join him.  I saw how loaded that spot was the day before, I really wanted to hunt it, so I said yes.  I grabbed some goose shells and a camo net and followed him out.  We set his brand new amazing full body geese and mallards up around his layout blind and dog blind in the mucky field.  I laid in the mud with the camo net over me and explained that I would just wait for him to shoot since I had the whole left handed thing going and I'd never hunted a field before.

We started talking and he soon explained that he doesn't hunt with people around here due to all the poaching and general rule breaking.  We hit it off after this, which was good because everything that was coming in was landing in the now thawed lake and wanted nothing to do with us.

When we finally had some ducks come in they were mallards, fifteen or twenty of them.  We both came up, he fired one shot and then his autoloader jammed.  I took two shots and dropped two nice fat greenies.  Teal, his well trained dog was even nice enough to retrieve them while Peat loafed around not wanting to go out in the knee deep mud.  At 9:30 Jake had to go, so I helped him pack up and we both hit the road.  I have never shot a double on greenies before, today I learned that sometimes it's good to be late.

Solo on Cave

I was very excited, I scouted the day before and this place was loaded with birds, I got there way early so that I got there before anyone else.  Which was a good thing because it was frozen over completely and I had to spend an hour busting it open enough to have a landing area.  There had been no Ice the day before and no I had to go out and break it up every twenty minutes.  After two hours I got no action except for a picture of a greenie that Bob had claimed at the point.

I packed up and headed back toward town, only to find a bunch of mallards in the next bay.  I pulled over and hiked out with just a dozen blocks and a pocket full of shells.  The birds took off and I laid back against a muskrat hut and waited. The water in front of me was open and I knew they'd be back.

An hour later they started returning and they brought their friends. hundreds of their friends.  Flock after flock settled in just out of range, Hundreds and hundreds and they were all mallards.  At this point I noticed that my blocks had iced up and the whole area in front of me was now frozen.  They kept coming and landing a hundred yards out. I finally took a pass shot at one that came close enough, I missed.  Bob showed up and dropped off a much needed sammy on his way home to clean a nice greenie.

Today I learned that Ice is best served in drinks.



Bob

Today I woke up at 7:00 instead of 4:30, there was even a message on my phone from Bob. My alarm was set for the wrong day, which was a bummer especially since I spent the day before driving all over scouting.  Today I learned that Monday comes immediately after Sunday,

Tomorrow I head to the theater with Nick.

Reversal of Fortune



Yesterday was an interesting day, a day that made me wonder if the times they are a changin'.  Here's how it all went down.
Clider had been scouting for a good part of the day on Sunday and we talked about where to go the following morning.  I, of course, suggested The Point after he told me that The Blind is about 150 feet from any open water.  Clider also proposed that maybe The Theatre may be a decent spot as he had seen some birds there.  We agreed that we would chose on the way out and that I would pick him up just before 5am.  I slept poorly as I often do the night before going hunting and had plenty of time to get everything ready that morning, mostly because I really had little to bring.  We had planed on bringing lots of lightweight goose shells and a few mallard blocks to improve our chances of luring in some fat bastard geese from the open waters into our dead end decoy spread.  No spinner needed.

I felt a little confused as I pulled up to Cliders darkened house at 4:50.  I texted him after 5 minutes and left him after 10.  Then I felt guilty and drove back by his house but still no lights anywhere.  (It was at that moment that I thought it would be a fun idea to light up the inside of his bedroom with my 10 million candle power roof mounted spotlight, why else would I need the thing, right?  But I didn't.)  I drove to Anderson alone and light.  The walk out and set up was a breeze and even though I only had 12 blocks I felt good with the heavy fog and calm waters.  Clider had loaned me his jerk rig and that brought some life to the spread.



My new wick.

It was unnecessary.  Nothing was flying.  Sure there were the pre-shooting time ducks flying overhead and the geese constantly squawking in the distance, but nothing came my way at all.  It was then I thought that this was a typical Old Old spot kind of day.  But the Old Old spot is where the Oregon chapter has been cil'n birds and The Point has been dry.  Is this the reversal of fortune that I have been talking about?  All good things come to an end?  The pocky-clipse?  The day that the Idaho chapter gives the 'Expert' title back to Oregon? 

I sent a text to Clider to make sure he was alive and sent a picture to Fred G and generally ignored the empty skies as I messed with my phone.  Of course that's when 6 or 8 pinnys flew right to left just over the decoys.  Had I been paying attention I could have missed them with 3 shots for sure.  Back I went to calling a lot and yanking the old jerk string in hopes that ducks would find me in the fog.  Nothing.  In fact, in true Old Old spot fashion, only as I was pulling up and walking off did I see ducks.  The last 2 on the walk out landed right where my decoys had been minutes before.  Hmmmm?
GBCH

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I Saw A Full Moon Rising

I must admit I was a skeptic today.  Remember that thing I talked about last week, weather?  Well today brought none.  Remember that thing we've talked about in the past, full moon?  Remember don't hunt it?  Well we had it.  Well maybe today "I had some good books to read."

As you all know from the many years of reading this awesome blog is that the Oregon Chapter has alway had some trials and tribulations.  Today a new one.  Cliffy picks me up at 5:30 which is actually 5:15, we need to get out there before everyone else cause space is limited due to the rising water.  Well driving up to the park we are greeted with a closed gate that has never been closed before.  Sign reads park closed 8pm to 6am.  Signage has always been there.  Well its 5:40 and we're sitting there in front of this gate scratching our heads, now what?  Can there really be someone that comes by at 6am to open this park virtually not close to anything important?  If nobody shows do we risk driving over tire spiked exit?  Well at 5:59 Ethel and Bernie show up and do just that, open the gate to our own now private hunting grounds.

We unload the new member Waylon and Scooby Doo down to the water, we have an hour to get out there, find a spot and set the blocks.  We get everything done just nice by cilling time.  Well not 10 minutes into the morning a green head bastard flies right in gear fully down wanting our set and I put 3 and 1/2 inches of love into him.  Not 15 seconds later our newest member Waylon is in the water for the first ever Oregon retrieve by a dog!!  Swam right by the blocks, may have sniffed one or two on the way out but having cut his teeth in Idaho he knew exactly what he was looking for.  

Not much happens for the next few hours.  Cliffy goes for a walk to warm the pup up.  He comes back and tells tales of blinds built around the corner from where we are sitting.  Heck I'm a little chilled too maybe I too will go for a jaunt.  Just as I was going to get up a green head bastard and his woman fly in at mach 10.  I take my bead off the hen and put it right onto the Canadian, cause I only shoot green today, pull the trigger and fill him with 3 and 1/2 inches of knock down.  Lands right next to the blind, no retrieve necesario.  Guess it's time to take that walk and leave Cliffy with his thoughts, he didn't look happy, I just tied him for greenie totals.  

GBCH

Post Traumatic Founders Tour

After the awesome Founders tour it really is hard to strap a 70 pound pack on and shlep a mile and a half each way just to see nothing.  Being we were all Experts once we all know our physics.  

70 lbs.x~(1.5)<65+500ml>nopato<=0=:(

But last night I remembered something the Cali Klan mentioned to me.  "Hunt the Weather."  Todays forecast was cold, freezing rain from the south and winds out of the East.  It seemed logical that I should do just that, strap the pack on and hunt the weather.  

On the road by 5:45, stop and get some go go juice and make it to the lot solely by myself.  Make it out to the water, it's way up.  With no true coverage I decide to hunt the north shore of the point.  I throw my blocks out and hunker down in some old leafless bushes, I look good alright.  Before cill time 3 mallards fly right over my head and then a pack of pinny's buzz me, this might be a great day I think.  Well by 7:45 I'm wondering what time should I call it, it seems to have turned into the typical Old Old Spot kinda day.  Just then a henny flies in and with one pull of the trigger she's down.  (Remember when hunting out there you take what the good lord Heston gives)  But there's more, 12 of her friends want in too.  I pull the trigger to launch another 3 1/2 inch missile and the gun goes click.  They flew right toward me over my head.  Again more time and I'm thinking that thought again.  Then another henny with her man decide to stop by, I bypass the hen and put my bead on the green bastard, bang then click!  What the hell!  Frustration once again.  10 minutes later another good set of mallards want in, gear down.  This time the Benelli does not fail me but my lack of aiming does, three shots wasted.  

Damn I just took 5 legit shots at ducks, mallards, at the Point!!  Wait a little longer and now it's the cold I'm fighting and it wins. Every time.  I leave feeling pretty good, the bag a little heavier, should have been heavier but what the hell!  On the way out a gentleman with a dog of all things is walking out, dog walkers right?  Well this guy asks if he could help me carry anything!

Maybe Sunday if the weather looks right, cause I "Hunt the Weather."

GBCH

Idaho: 11/30/14

Today was an unexpected day off from work and I tried to make the best of it.  Clider had been off scouting, and we all know how that works to our advantage, but I had different ideas.  I needed a day to hunt by myself even though I do so enjoy hunting with friends.  But sometimes I just need a day to sort my thoughts and enjoy my personal space.  Like I say, Clider had been scouting, and he saw a bunch of geese and ducks sitting alone on the bay inside one of the lakes on the way to Anderson.  He called me to say we should go there but I headed to 'The Point' anyway.

I stopped by Clider's to borrow a jerk rig and a couple blocks to attach to them and made my way to Anderson.  It was cold and clear and I had to break out a layer of skim ice before I set the few blocks I had.  Strangely, the clear skies made me think that I had missed the morning fly but by the time I was set there was still 20 minutes until shooting time.  A few ducks flew in the burgeoning light and I toasted the morning and missing friends.  Some buffleheads landed in the decoys and made the moving spread look even better.

A while in I was thinking that maybe the clear cold skies would not bring me ducks in the ultra-traditional spot I had chosen.  I wondered if I should have gone with Clider to the spot he had scouted the night before.  Then I got his text message.  "I think I'm a day late here. I did get a look from some mallards though"  It was 7:32.  I was getting ready to read that message as the Greenie came in from the left, of course I was looking right.  He landed on the ice to my left and as I stood to give him the ole' Booggely Booggely Boo, he jumped up and peeled away to the left.  One shot brought him down and T.J. and I made the retrieve in the ice that had built up in the bay.

My text back to Clider read "Did they look like this one?  Or not quite as dead?" (see pic I sent at the left)  To be fair nothing at all flew by after that lone greeneie but I waited for a while before calling it and headed back home to make more duck bites from the stuff I still had left over from the 'Tour of Champions'.  They are in the fridge right now waiting for a hot skillet tonight. 

I stopped by the spot Clider was hunting on the way home.  He saw stuff. He may have shotten stuff.  It is up to him to tell you about it but I will say I left him a chicken salad Sammy that I figured I would eat in his blind when I lucked out at Anderson.  I was fully planning on edging in on his action after I got skunked at The Point, but......

GBCH.

My Best Moment, by Bob D.

Where to start?  With so many moments of greatness it's tough to narrow it down to just one.  Could it be the way I push pieces of ice out into the channel to sail off down river?  Is it the time I cut down perfect amounts of grass to refurbish the Point?  Or how about the way I meld old bacon and new bacon technologies together to make exceptional Duck Bites?

All of these pale in comparison to my greatest moment of the trip.  It was the 3rd day of the Tour of Champions and Cliffy and I were sharing a blind at The Point.  The morning had been perfect with all 4 of us being completely set and ready to go at shooting time and a few extra minutes of listening to ducks flying over the blind before the magical time of 6:26  I don't remember who shot first or who shot the most ducks that day, but I do remember who shot best.  It was Bob D.

With the other boys using the left side blind that gave Cliffy and I the right side blind with the better water and best shot on incoming ducks.  Because I hunt The Point all the time I let Cliffy have the right side of our blind and the first shot at anything from that direction.  Imagine my surprise as I watched the lone greenie come in from the right heading our way with his feet down.  Now contemplate my further surprise as I realized Cliffy was either unaware or otherwise unable to take the shot. Then, I did the only thing a superhuman folder and former "Expert" could do.  With lightning speed I shouldered the Benelli and squeezed off a single shot that took that greenie from the sky. 

Greenie had been coming in feet down and, noticing us, had tried to make a hasty getaway.  My shot got him on the upswing and his momentum carried him through the blind and landed him at Cliffy's feet.  I had just landed a bird in the blind at some ones feet!  He reached down and handed over my prize.  No retrieve needed.  My best moment of the trip.
GBCH

T.O.C. Day one.

The 'Tour of Champions' has begun and the first day was more like the 'Founders Tour' as it was just Fred G and I heading out on to Anderson.  Team member Clider was hunting another area with a bloke named Otis, who has only recently started hunting, and just shot a 7 year old banded greenie from Alberta Canada.  We currently don't like Otis.

The weather here has been nothing short of arctic. Much of the country is also in the grip of a Canadian cold front which we hoped would bring down ducks from the north.  Temperatures in the low teens and mostly frozen water greeted us at The Point.  We set about breaking up ice and had our decoys set as the shooting hour arrived.  The picture above shows the battle we fought with the ice filling in the slough that runs behind The Point.  Only a few ducks were flying in the early morning hours and I had lost the ability to take the first shot of the day in a spirited game of ducey the night before.  Finally we were able to make a couple geese turn and come to see us rather than the big raft of birds sitting on the open water way out in the middle of the lake.  They set up perfectly and flew in low and slow with the sun lighting up their fat bellies.  They looked to me like a couple of big B52's coming in for a landing and I watched as Fred lined up to take the first shot of the day.  He took 3.  No geese fell.

Founder: Fred G.

After that no other perfect opportunities happened our way and we did some more improvement to the waters in front of The Blind.  I took a walk and tried to get some birds to get off the water in the middle of the lake but still nothing wanted in.  Even after the walk out we felt good about the chances to shoot there again next time.  The temperatures are rising and the ice will have a hard time making a return to that spot.  Next time I'm sure many hundreds of fat greenies will make their way to the perfect spot we have created.  Stay tuned.
GBCH