Does These Look Like Men That Have Something To Share?????

I thought so too.

Bob D. Fishing 'Expert"

Well it's been a long time coming but I was finally able to get out on the water today.  Tweaking my back playing golf did not help my state of mind when coupled with working a lot and still having chores to do around the DaFolder cabin.  So finally I was able to get to the river.

I sold the Jeep to a nice guy who wanted to lift it and give it to his daughter.  I was glad to see it go which was funny considering I really liked the Jeep.  The trailer went days later and funded a new rear bar attachment to the Escalanche which allows me to carry my kayak without having to reconfigure the back of the thing.  If you remember when I last went to the water having the back of the Escalanche open gave me a nice dirt bath on the way home.  Now the only stuff that goes in the back 'trunk' is enclosed in complete waterproof security.  Not only that, but I have now made the worlds ugliest pick up truck even more ungainly.  It looks like a Cadillac origami done by Homer Simpson after building a tree fort.

I set out this morning on a much needed trip to the water believing I was going into work later today to cover for an employee who failed me by getting arrested.  Now, it's not the getting arrested that bothers me, I don't trust anyone who hasn't done time, it's that I had to cover for him.  lo and behold he called to tell me he's out of the klink and ready to work.  He also was looking to tell me why he was unjustly targeted by 'The Man'.  I didn't care.  I hate when 'The Man' keeps you down.  All I care about is that I didn't have to go in and cover his shift.  I'm a cool boss like that I guess.

So off to the Rose Lake turnoff I went.  Put in by the palatial estate of Ken Smith, largest Dodge dealer in the blah blah blah, and upriver I went.  It didn't take long to realize that I was paddling with the wind and if you know anything about the H7HT you know we are a learning machine.  Last time the wind blew me back upriver so......  I turned around.  A good hour of paddling downriver and then a perfect hour of floating back up.  I fished and caught my 3rd and 4th fish of the year.  The fish were so big that taking a picture was impossible.  They were swamping my boat just by being in it.  I had to struggle to get them off the Dock Demon and get them back into the water before the Guinness Book of World Records got wind of my catch.  After getting the kayak back on the truck I was off to work.

Kingston area my phone finally returns to life and alerts me to the fact that I have a voicemail from my scofflaw employee.  He's out, he's back, he's looking good and ready to work.  Now who am I to deny a man his chance to glad-hand golfers and sit in a gravel parking lot reading books while getting paid a princely sum?  Not me.  I pulled into the Cataldo boat launch, borrowed some sunscreen from an apple maggot (person from Washington State recreating in Idaho) and back into the river I went.  I then  proceeded to catch two more monster fish and spend another 3 hours in the river.  Good times.

Back at home I'm now breaking off pieces of my aloe vera plant and hoping that I can sleep tonight between roasting and freezing under and out from under the covers.  My skin is red but my brain is happy.  Thanks kayak.  Can't wait to put you to some 'real' good use.

H7HT OR Chapter gonna be high tech!!

Oregon Fish and Wildlife switching to smartphones for licenses, tags

Updated 6:39 PM; Posted 5:34 PM

In this 2006 file photo, a fly fishing instructor leads a class at West Linn Adult Community Center.(James W. Prichard)

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By The Associated Press

MEDFORD — The Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife plans to use an electronic licensing system that will allow hunters and anglers to buy licenses and tags online.

The Mail Tribune reports hunters and anglers also will be able to download an app that will allow them to use their smartphones to tag their salmon, steelhead, halibut, deer and other species that require tagging.

The new system is scheduled to go live in December, when the agency begins selling licenses and tags for 2019.

Fish and Wildlife says the change will save the agency about $1.4 million a year, in part because the licenses and tags won't be printed on special paper.

Those who want to carry paper licenses and tags can print them out themselves, according to ODFW in The Mail Tribune report.

Those without access to a computer and printer can still go to any license agent to get licenses and tags over their computers, ODFW spokeswoman Michelle Dennehy said.

The current point-of-sale system handles about 2.2 million transactions each year.

-- The Associated Pr

Sad News Out of New Hampshire

I received some sad news from New Hampshire redneck and man that only owns one hat, Jenny X.  Seems that H7HT O.G. canine pioneer Ruger has passed on.  He was the first of the great hunting dogs to grace the H7HT members with their fine retrieving skills.  I will always remember fondly the way he let me pet him and how he was able to casually lounge with Jenny and myself and watch westerns on tv after our big day of hunting.  Although I only met him once we were still able to visit with him over the years through the magic of photos, many of which are here on the back pages of this very blog.

To Ed and Paula we want to let you know how sorry we are for the loss of your best boy Ruger.  If there is any justice he and Peat and Charlie are all chasing squirrels and eating straight from the dinner table right now.
GBCH

The Windy River

Springtime is a lot of work here in North Idaho.  A quick switch from one job to another keeps me on my toes and changing gears from ski to golf mode can be interesting.  This year I also have deal with the lack of good employees and that puts a little more pressure on me to work longer hours to make up for that.  So, you can imagine how happy I was to get out of  town for the first time in a long time.  I loaded up the boat in the back of the new Escalanche and headed to the lake to try my luck at my new pastime, fishing.

Smaller than actual size by a factor of 100

Now before you start saying 'Bob D, you aren't really much of a fisherman.  Didn't you bring a kids spinning rod and reel to the last Deschutes river trip you were on?' The answer is yes. Yes I did.  In fact I think that's why I've never been on another one. But this is different.  I bought a fishing license so I could entertain myself on the float back to where I started.  Here's how it goes: you start by paddling up the river until you are tired, then you float back to the starting point while you have a tasty refreshing beverage as a reward for all the furious paddling you just did.  Dropping a line in the river just seemed like a good idea.  Last year I played B.T.P. and brought my Dock Demon along with me just to try out,

and I actually caught a fish almost without effort.  This year I'm legit and ready to slay massive bass or pike or salmon or whatever kind of fish we have here.  I asked the guy at the license desk what lure to use and he recommended one saying it was all I need to destroy the local fish population.  I had to trust him, he was overweight and goofy looking.  The only better person to get fishing advice from would be the methy guy on a BMX bike living down by the river near the self storage units.

So off I went.  Cooler full of Rocks and a bottle of suntan lotion in the boat I crossed the lake and found the river to be at almost normal levels.  I gave myself a nice upper body workout going upriver for about an hour.  By the time I turned around the wind had picked up to the point where I was being blown in the wrong direction. Sweet.  Now I had to paddle downriver just to get back to the lake.  I was able to refresh myself along the way but my fishing had to wait until I was back in the lake.  I decided on the spot where I ripped my new waders many years ago as the point to start the grand adventure of being a fisherman.  It took longer than I expected to figure out how to cast the amazingly complex Dock Demon but once I got the hang of it I was pro in no time.  The monster you see here took me hours to bring in.  The fight was incredible and after hauling the fresh water behemoth into the boat and taking the photo I let him return to the deep to fight another day.  I did my best Santiago impression when I got back to the Escalanche and loaded up to head home, happy and satisfied at my new 'Expert' status.  (really, have any of you caught more fish this year?  Thought so.)

Driving out of Killarney with the wind at my back I discovered a problem with the Escalanche and loading a 12 foot boat in the fold down pickup bed.  All the dust I kicked up with my 5,000 lbs of American rolling iron blew straight into the cab with me.  By the time I reached the end of the road I was spitting dust and I had to swipe my dashboard in order to read the gauges.  What a mess but it was all worth it to get away and start my new life chapter as the greatest Dock Demon fisherman you know.

GBCH

I Have a New Puppy!

Is what I would be saying if this was, in fact, my puppy.  And you would believe me because the person who owns this cute little retrieving machine never seems to update you on all the important things hunting related. But sadly this is not my puppy.  This is June. She is Cliders new puppy and she is the future of  the Idaho chapters retrieving duties.  I hope to shoot many ducks so that she may go out in the cold water and get them for me. Maybe even fat banded greenies because I certainly plan to shoot a lot of them this year.  Hopefully Clider will give you updates on the progress June makes this summer.

As for my plans I have recently boughten a fishing license and will take my kayak out to the same waters we hunt to try my luck.  Many of you know I'm not much of a fisherman, certainly no match for Cliffy, but I do like to drink beer and float.  On our rivers and lakes you can do just that.  The water is way too high right now for paddling upriver and floating back while fishing but I can certainly go out to the lakes.  I'm looking forward to Rose lake especially.  There aren't really ducks there but I hear the fishing is great.  In fact I was going to go today, but after 2 weeks of sunshine and working days the rain has returned for my day off.  Stay tuned.
GBCH

Meet The Escalanche.

With a pocket full of no money, and a connection in Montana, it was clearly time to upgrade to a fancy new ride.  Meet the Escalanche.  The first time I saw the ridiculous excuse for a vehicle called the Avalanche, I thought General Motors had created the worst looking truck of all time.  After years of seeing them on the road I came to think that my first impression was correct. They are hideous. Now I own one.  Here's why.

It has a huge waterproof lockable trunk that turns easily into a pickup.
It was cheap.

I'm looking forward to hauling all of my hunting gear in the back.  Muddy soaking wet gear and stinky waders no longer will pollute the inside of my car space.  Duck blood on the trunk carpet is a thing of the past.  Bags of decoys will not freeze solid on the ride home.  Is this the perfect vehicle?  Only time will tell.  Oh, and the heated seats of course work great, it's a Caddy!

Who Authorized This?

Water Water Water

I'm standing here in water.

The water that was just at my feet.

But now...

It's up to my waist.

It's gotten deeper.

It keeps getting deeper.

I'm standing waist deep in the water.

Wondering if will ever go out.

No matter where I go, 

Or where I turn, 

I never seem to get out of this water.

I hope my waders do not leak

It sucks my expertise 

It never seems to end.

I will hunt in it or drown in it

Waist high in the water, 

I know what will happen.

The water will get deeper.

Deeper until I drown my expert status, 

Greenie will drown with it.

When the water leaves, 

Out will it go with me.

It's only waist deep, 

For now I am still afraid.

RIP Bob DaFolder

Can't Believe Bob DaFolder is gone*  GBCH
Cillin for the King won't be the same.

Cillin for the K, old timers day

Bigly Bob D.

What!? Bob D is gone?

No more ducks for me

* A season wasted

The last Day of Hunting......... Ever.

I don't get to hunt anymore.
With the season drawing to a close I don't have any opportunity to go out and become 'The Expert' at all. See, I broke two of my fifty eight ribs in a work related accident.  As a matter of fact I don't even get to do my new found job of making snow safe for beginner skiers either, but that's a story for another day. Broken ribs are painful, annoying and just plain stupid.  Maybe the worst part of this terrible ending is that even if I wanted to, (and I do) I can't participate in this years Killin' for The King ceremonies. A time for Bob D. to travel to P-Town and see all my old haunts and shoot Greenies hanging in mid air.  Right in front of me. With a gun that works. It's just plain sad.

What's maybe more sad is my last day out was totally uneventful.  Not a problem at the time but I really thought that I would have another month to slay birds. I went in the kayak out to The Tip and sat at a blind that other hunters made.  It was huge.  I actually showed up early enough to watch them pull up to the parking spot in front of the bridge and spotlight me with their headlamps.  I'm sure they were thinking that they were going to the new blind but they arrived in time only to see me setting up.  I even shined my incredibly powerful headlamp at them a time or two just to let them know I was there, and they were not.  Bitches.

Nothing happened at all.  But it was a beautiful day and I never even considered it would be my last.  If only I had known.  I'm also including a picture of Clider after shooting a fat goose from my 2nd to last day of hunting.  Turns out that he has lost all confidence in himself after my accident.  He's like a child devoid of ability and will.  You can tell he hasn't done anything like hunting because he would certainly have posted a story or two if he had.  So sad that he needs me to show him the way. You would think that a weepy weak adolescent boy that had been 'The Expert' so many times could get his shit together enough to go out by himself.  Maybe next year Clider, maybe next year.

So at this point I realize that my ribs will not heal enough to let me get in one more day for the season and that makes me sad.  I love my time in the blind. It's a kind of therapy for me but unfortunately not a therapy for broken bones.  Enjoy it while you can cause you never know when you can't.
GBCH

A Post By Fred G.

Opportunity knocked today.  My first day off with nothing to do but enjoy a day of hunting.  I check the weather the night before.  Strong east wind averaging 30 mph with gusts up to 50 mph.  30 degrees with a windchill of 24 degrees.  Water at the 7 foot level.  Sounds great right?  I am hesitant with the wind being so strong but I had to find out.  I'm thinking the back side of the cove so to be out of the wind.  

Thinking that I will have the place to myself I wake at a reasonable 5:45. That will put me at the water around 6:30 and with cilling time at 7:20 that gives me a nice settle.  Well I wake at said time but the wind at my house is whipping and it's freezing cold.  I think that it has to be 10x worse out in Troutdale, I'm dragging my feet and having second thoughts.  I already have the car packed and a guy like me deserves a party after a long two weeks.  I make it to the lot and there are four trucks already there!  What the hell!  I head out and I have to crab walk out there due to the stiff in my face, brutal.  Second guessing again.  

I make it to the water and I don't see anyone close by so I'm thinking that they all must be set up around the corner and probably in the cove, so I find a nice spot.  I throw out 7 blocks, make a nice standup blind and have only 1 minute settle time.  The wind is ripping from behind me.  I think I'm looking pretty good.  I have 4 blocks in front of me in the river and  3 blocks to my right in some shallow water looking very comfortable out of the wind.  

Ducks are flying.  Ducks are flying at mach 10.  Three greenies are stalled to my left but my gun is not in my hands and by the time I retrieved it they were gone.  Lost opportunity.  Widgeon are dumping everywhere.  A lone greenie flies through my spread, I don't take a shot due to the wind thinking that if a wing it the wind is going to take him where I can't go.  Lost opportunity.  More widgeon.  3 fat greenies fly in perfectly, stalled, literally stalled right over me.  I pull the trigger missing because I'm leading it but it didn't't need any leading it just needed to be shotten.  I pull the trigger again with a follow up shot, CLICK!

I try reloading my gun and get a shell completely stuck.  Jammed it is.  I need to disassemble my gun to fix it.  I am able to get all the shells out of it but I am only able to put one shell in.  Dumb gun, I am missing the 870 now.  Well I think now I'm Mitch.  Single shot.  It's all I need right?  I have been the Expert many times, one shot is all I need.  Four more fat greenies come in again.  Again completely stalled in the wind right over my three block to my right over ankle high water.  Pull the trigger.  Click!  lost opportunity.  Take the SBE apart again, reassemble, reload, try putting off a round, CLICK!

I'm walking out with the thoughts of what could have been.  Then I notice a pile of dead seagulls.  Someone shotten three gulls and left them in a pile.  Then I realize that on the walk out the wind will be at my back and carry me back to the lot.  All in all a nice morning.  An awesome sunrise over Mt. Hood, and some nice looks at ducks all before 9 am.  Maybe I'll clean my gun and go back out again some day, maybe not.

GBCH

R.I.P PTD

The Last Two Idaho Hunts In One Post. Why? Nobody Else Will.

Seeing as nobody else can break away from their busy schedule of watching TV or You Tube or X-box, I will.  See, I have a none too busy of a schedule that certainly does include letting you readers know what has been going on here at the H7HT.  Here goes.....

'DQM'  Shhhhhhhh.

Thanksgiving day is just the kind of day you want to spend with friends and family.  Sitting around the fire watching foosball after a fine meal of factory raised turkey and canned cranberry sauce.  Clider and I did just that, but not before going to the spot I like to call 'Double Question Mark'.  Once again we paddled out to 'DQM' in the kayaks and set up in the reeds about 300 yards from where we were the last time we went out just the day before.  Remember that that day Otis and Clider were at their near limit of cil'n fun, and I, Bob D. even shottened a duck or two.  That day was going to be different.  Just the two of us and a minimalist spread of maybe 15 blocks and my spinner.  The morning fly was way less than the day before and for a moment I thought that maybe I should have slept in.  Those thoughts didn't last long.

The action was incredible.  As Clider likes to say about 'DQM':  "When it's on, it's on.  When it's not, it's not."  Well, it was certainly ON.  Ducks were dropping out of the sky trying to land in our little spread like they were on fire.  From the left, right, front and especially from behind.  I had a hard time keeping up with all the action as I forgot not only my chair for the kayak, but also my chair for the blind.  Even kneeling in the reeds I was able to shoot a quick passer from the right that turned out to be only the second ever Woodie shotten by the H7HT.  He was beautiful and filled me with pride while 'The Expert' gave me a big thumbs up for dropping him so late in our season.  It was so crazy that I stopped shooting after two greenies, a henny and the little woodie.  I already had ducks in the fridge from the day before and the prospect of making 100 duck snacks for my friends left me satisfied at the morning thus far.  Clider on the other hand was not satisfied until he had shotten his limit.  If I remember correctly, 6 greenies and 1 henny.  The kayaks were full and the paddle back was happy with the exception of my bruised and hurting knees.  What a day.  'DQM' did not disappoint.

(side note. After making about 50 duck bites I gave a batch to my neighbor Chris the CIA operative. We discussed that neither of our SigOth's will eat duck due to the taste,cruelty,gamey,wild nature of them. We shared a laugh that earlier that day we all had no problem stuffing a factory raised bird with bread and celery and ate it down with abandon while the wild and humanely murdered duck was shunned.  He painted a picture of men in bulldozers herding the turkeys to their ultimate fate which I can picture in my head all day.  I now refer to my ducks as "Bulldozer free".) 

Fast forward to today.
The snow in Idaho has not been flying and rather than doing my new job of grooming snow for fast skiing on perfect corduroy I have instead been helping to fix snowcats.  A job better suited to strong young men rather than my weak-ass body.  I am, after all, in what Clider likes to refer to as my 'twilight years'.  So after a day of doing nothing other than recuperating on the couch watching foosball with my sweetie I knew I needed my other day off to be a hunting day.  After calling Clider he went scouting and decided that Anderson was the place to be.  He claimed bunches of geese and ducks sitting out on the lake and while there, it was snowing and windy and full of potential.  Neither of us checked the moon phase so when we met this morning to head out we hoped for the best.  The full moon was shining brightly and the forecast of cold and fog was nowhere to be found.

The kayak in was easy and delightful.  We set a great spread that included his new splasher decoy.  A decoy he spent top dollar on just days before.  Other than 'splashy' freezing up from time to time he looked great splashing out there with some goose blocks, my spinner and my Dakotas.  Only one problem plagued us today and that was the lack of ducks needing to move around after a night of full moon feeding.  The only shot I had all day was a perfectly set up greenie that my first shot missed and my second shot was not taken because I was looking right into the sun.  Clider on the other hand had no problem knocking down two geese.  Both times they floated right into the spread and I had to question, once again, why it is that I don't shoot those things.  Maybe it's time to learn to make jerky.  They are, after all, bulldozer free.  We pulled up and set out for home waiting for our next hunt.  Maybe someday my other H7HT teammates will tell you aboot their hunts but rest assured you will hear about mine as soon as they happen.
GBCH.

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.