Summertime Update.

Summer is cruising right along here in North Idaho and I figured that maybe, just maybe, it's time for an update. Here goes:

Work is still something that I have to do on a regular basis.  The overall plan was to be comfortably retired by now, living off of my lottery winnings and trying to figure out how to spend my days. Instead I have to spend hours and hours each and every week going to Galena Ridge and taking money from happy people and sending them off to play golf.  Sometimes I even have to go out there myself and play golf. I did that just this morning. What torture it is. The work is so difficult that a week ago I had to take a vacation just to collect my thoughts and learn to breathe easy again.  Of course I went to P-Town to visit my old friend and Co-founder of the H7HT, Fred G. This may come as a shock to you but to relive my stress we decided to......wait for it...... play golf.

Before I regale you with stories of chipping in from 20 yards out, Chucker playing with one shoe on and half a sock, and almost getting scammed by a couple of newlyweds from California I have to tell you about the end of an era. Lisa has been sold. Now keep in mind that Fred and I do our best thinking in the later hours of the afternoon so it's no surprise that we hatched a plan to upgrade his recreational vehicle then.  It has become painfully obvious that Lisa gets no love living in the city. Her gas mileage alone is enough to keep her locked in the yard rather than running wild in the woods. The sheer amount of mold baked into her paint job was enough to tell me that she hadn't been run in quite some time. After a thorough bath and spa treatment I listed her for sale and soon after some lucky mallaca drove off into the sunset with her. Hope he doesn't need headlights on the way home. I have enclosed my last ever picture with her as a happy reminder of all the good times we had.  If you notice, I'm wearing the Blue Jacket, more on that later.

Keeping to my schedule of mental therapy and vacation like activities we played golf everyday for most of a week. We were joined by the aforementioned Chucker Styles and he proved once again that his particular style of fashion and golf scoring are not to be missed on any vacation. He even got us into the 'Chucker Invitational' at a nice high dollar country club. I'm fairly sure I saw Judge Schmales on the driving range. We played a couple of old haunts and finished with a course Fred assured me I had played twice in the past even though I have no recollection of the layout. Apparently we used to drink beer at this course. Hmmm.

I thought that to further relieve my stress we should go and see the new Star Trek movie in 3D. Big mistake. The movie was horrible but seeing old friend of the H7HT Clayton and older friend Jeremy was a nice touch. Clayton didn't even bring his assault weapon into the theater, which was probably for the best. That movie should not be seen by anyone, especially someone who likes Star Trek.

Fred G feeling small

I was feeling pretty relaxed when I left for the 6 hour drive home. I had some leftover sauce in the cooler and also had the Blue Jacket to keep me warm. I mean, at this point Fred would need a new driver and fairway woods to even think of having a chance to beat me. Fortunately I made it home in time to get a solid 8 hours of sleep before going to work for a 13 hour shift the next day. Strangely the stress of working in the mountains on a beautiful course returned almost immediately. Not to worry, it's only 6 weeks till duck season starts here in Idaho.  Clider and I have plans to build the greatest ever hunting blind at The Blind. It should set us back hundreds of thousands of dollars but will most certainly be worth it when the season starts. We'll keep you posted.

Sidenotes:
Apparently Pablo Escobar hijacked the header picture for the summer. I have replaced it.

Let's request updates on the replacement for Lisa, you're going to love what he has in mind. come on Fred, share.

I have entered the Banded sweepstakes to get a new F150 and a duck boat. I need a duck boat! enter too here at www.the-greatst-outdoor-giveaway-ever.com  If you win you can take me for a ride in your new boat and watch me freak out.

GBCH

Coming Home

Won't be long now

I'm Bob DaFolder and I'm In Your Corner!

I have blisters on my feet!

What's Growing Around Here

How 'The Expert' Spends His Days....

Dear Cilder,

   Can I call you Bill? My name is Jim Jerry Johnson, most of my friends call me Mountain Man Jim Jerry Johnson though. I have a lot of friends.

    Lets get down to brass tacks. I can snow shoe like no ones business. I'm probably the best in the region, you may of heard of "The Green Flash". That's me. The question isn't am I allowed to snowshoe up the mountain during the Uphill, Downhill, Uphill, Downhill races of 2016, it's if I can Inner-tube down.

I own and can operate my own inner tube. I have the Swimline 30" Candy Transparent Swim Ring. It's pretty high speed if I say so myself. 

The other question I had was I will be in town Friday, Saturday and Sunday this week with my van and my cat King Simon. Do you know of anyone that is willing to let us stay in their driveway?

Thanks Bill,

Jim Jerry Johnson

Hello Mountain Man Jim Jerry Johnson,

Thank you for your interest in our event, the Wardner Peak Uphill Downhill Uphill Downhill, we a honored that you are considering competition.  It sounds like the climbing portion of the course will be to your liking, and snowshoes may well be the fastest means of conveyance to Wardner Peak.

I will now address your question about being able to pilot a “Swimline 30" Candy Transparent Swim Ring” down an extended fall line expert run, through gates, with other competitors, and finishing against a dense tree line.  I had to run it by our legal team and here is what they were able to come up with.

“ Competitors may engage in inner tubing on the decent as long as their inner tube conforms to the rigid standards set forth by the American Alpine Speed Inner Tubing Association of America, henceforth referred to as A.A.S.I.T.A.A.. Your will find their Official Alpine Speed Inner Tubing Personal Racing Inner Tube Guide Lines following:

·         Must have an outside diameter no smaller than 30.5”, and no larger than 37.875”

·         Must be filled to 12 p.s.i at 60 degrees Fahrenheit, with pure O2

·         Must be constructed utilizing a rigid or semi-rigid polyethylene base.

·         Must have a shell of at least 750–denier nylon

·         Must weigh no less than 150 oz.

·         Must have at least one handle featuring at least a 2”x8” graspable area.

·         Must be certified to safely carry adults up to 72” tall and 200lbs (Weight is while fully clothed in a regulation A.A.S.I.T.A.A. approved speed suit, neck limiting ring, and fully enclosed helmet. See rules and regulations for details on pg 178)”

I was relieved to find out that we can accommodate a legend such as yourself in the first annual Wardner Peak Uphill Downhill Uphill Downhill.  Since your tube does not meet the requirements of the Official Alpine Speed Inner Tubing Personal Racing Inner Tube Guide Lines, I have done some research and found an inner tube that meets said requirements. Copy and paste the below link into your browser to see the Sonic Snow Tube , Regular.

http://www.llbean.com/llb/shop/57403?productId=954567&attrValue_0=Chalkboard%20Peace&pla1=0&mr:trackingCode=E369D2E0-245D-E511-80FA-005056942F93&mr:referralID=NA&mr:device=c&mr:adType=pla_with_promotiononline&mr:ad=57704171360&mr:keyword=&mr:match=&mr:tid=pla-86767000040&mr:ploc=9029638&mr:iloc=&mr:store=&mr:filter=86767000040&mkwid=nhSSb410_dc&pcrid=57704171360&qs=3091369_google&product=0GPT812000&cvosrc=cse.google.0GPT812000&cvo_crid=57704171360&lsft=mkwid:nhSSb410_dc,pcrid:57704171360,qs:3091369_google,product:0GPT812000,cvosrc:cse.google.0GPT812000,cvo_crid:57704171360

In future years we will be adding an official Inner Tubing class to our event, but for the current event we will need you to compete in the “open” category. Additionally there would be a $75 fee to have a A.A.S.I.T.A.A. inspector come to the event from Spokane to certify inflation levels, and indemnify the inner tube for the 2016 calendar year.  It goes without saying that you will also need a A.A.S.I.T.A.A. approved speed suit, neck limiting ring, and fully enclosed helmet. Please let me know if I need to get things in motion with the A.A.S.I.T.A.A..

In regards to your final inquiry, yes, I know someone that would be thrilled to host you and King Simon.  Dolph Hoch, a Silver Mountain Local and all around badass, has a house right on Division St. here in Kellogg.  Just head South on Division and look for a giant white Chevy 2500 that fits the “Badass” profile, feel free to park on the street directly in front of his driveway.

I hope this is helpful for you, please feel free to contact me with any additional questions or concerns.

Best regards,

Clider the Expert

Marketing Coordinator

Silver Mountain Resort

clider@silvermt.com

p208.555.1524

c208.555.2406

And Now, A Follow Up From Jenny X.

Hello H7HT Members,

After considerable contemplation,  I decided to get my gear.  So on the way back from going to the transfer station to recycle and properly dispose of my waste, I went to the little M@#$# F@$$# cabin and knocked on his door like a cop with a warrant, granted my rusted, exhaust manifold busted truck, with big ass plow on it did not register to the 'All Windows Closed' little worthless shack (with 3 bags of garbage and old pots and pans on the porch), to it's occupants that I was not a officer of the law. I was not packing. First person out was a punk ass kid and I said "Hi, I believe you have something that is leaning against your broken down shack out back and it belongs to me."  As you would think he said 'I don't know what you mean', so he went back in and out comes a woman, if that is what I would call it rather than a buffalo of a beast, that's when I told her YOU HAVE MY STAND AND IT IS OUT BACK she says 'it is not yours we have had that out back for years' I said "Really? I tracked the prints in the snow to your shack!!"  Hence it said let me get my husband.  At this point I can't wait to see what is going to come out the door.  What came out was a little man beaten down by the troubles of the world, in camo.  I repeated myself again about me knowing what he did and he confessed. I went back behind his shit hole grabbed my stand and said people around here do not appreciate people who take things that are not theirs. He tried to assist me with putting the stand in my truck but I said "NO" I do not need your help.

As an side note he tried to educate me on the deer activity in the area. I promptly corrected him in the way of how he has no idea of the X zone and movement of game,  I kindly said I am putting my stand back up with no lock just where it has been for 10 + years.

Attachments area

Preview attachment Tree Stand Retrieve.JPG

Tree Stand Retrieve.JPG

Stop! Or I'll shoot!

I Have Now Dedicated My Life To.....

Goodbye to the part of the year when I don't shoot Greenies.  What are you members up to now?

The End

The last day of the year came unexpected.  After the Idaho chapter left I conceded that it was over.  Not having the obligations that I thought I had gave me a bonus day.  Cliffy text me the day before that he was going to be picking me up at 5:30.  5:30 turned into 6am due to Cliffy's bought with Salmonellosis.   The man was not looking well.  Water was at Cilling For the King level so we thought we'd head out to the blind we made there the first day.  You heard about John John so I won't bore you with the details, but it was pretty funny that some young whipper snapper was telling us about what it was like out there.  I get to the blind, turn around, and Cliffy is lagging far behind.  Flashbacks of Bob D. having a myocardial infraction ran through my head but with cilling time so close it was imperative that I hustle and get things set up.  I set the blocks and build the blind and Cliffy shows up and yacks.

This is how Cliffy's year ended

Many birds were flying in the pre dawn light.  Flocks of pinny's, mallards, mergansers, everything.  Was great to see.  Then nothing.  Sure a couple of birds here and there would fly through our spread but who's paying attention?  Apparently you need to be at the ready at all times with your gun in your hands, who knew?

Cliffy is floating chunks in the Columbia and I can't bear to see him suffer anymore.  So rather than shoot him and float him out on the river laying on top of the block bag I suggest that we call it.  But no he's up for more punishment, he wants to go all the way to 10.  I sit back close my eyes and start reminiscing in my mind of the crappy season I had.  Waders that leak, no numbers in the Idaho trip, my truck lighting itself on fire, gun that jams because apparently you need to clean it every once in awhile, the fact that I did't shotten three ducks with one shotten and so forth and so on.

Well after what seemed to be two minutes I open my eyes and a lone drake pintail is coming in with the gear down.  From my chair I raise my weapon and blast him to the earth.  Cliffy said that I needed to finish him off on the water but after close examination, as you could see from the pictures, he wasn't going anywhere.  I dun shotten him straight trough the breast, I even found a bb under the wing near the exit wound.  Waylon made an awesome retrieve. this drake doesn't count towards my totals this year, but…

Adding to My Totals? Nope.

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

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

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

Have a great summer everyone and, GBCH.

Possible Last Day in Oregon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day 1:  Cliders Day.

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

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

Day 2:  Bob D's Day.

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

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

Day 3:  Cliffy's Day.

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

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

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

GBCH

And Now, A Message From Jenny X.

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

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

Hello Bubba,

Just a quick recap of the tree stand story.

Nice hat

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

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

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

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

GBCH

Bucket List

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

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

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

A Letter from the Cali Boyz

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hope all you Hoy 7 boys are well.

In Search of the X,

Gaucho Wino

I Won the Lottery!

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

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

Will Cliffy hunt with us?

Will I forget my wikki?

Will there be a pintail cil in KFTK week?

Are the Cali Clan still alive and hunting?

Waylon or Peat? Who will be the humpee?

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

Will Clider defer the first Greenie shot?

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

How many greenies will I shoot? (answer 21)

Waylon or Peat? Who will make the first retreive?

Rain or no rain?

North Unit of Sauvies Island?

Who will shoot a decoy?

What is the square root of 7?

Is there any rhyme or reason to this list?

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

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

I'm on the Big Board........Finally.

Ahhhh, morning.

Sure, I'm not 'The Expert', and sure, I don't have an 8X10 color glossy of me snowboarding, and sure, there were no good mangoes to make duck bites with so I have to use "Bartlett" pears to make my duck bites, but I'm finally on the board with my first Greenie of the year!

What Clider didn't tell you is he had to opt out of hunting yesterday due to a bout of ebola he has.  I went to The Point and after navigating icy roads arrived with plenty of time to set my new Dakota decoys in a fine spread of realism in the channel that wasn't even frozen over in the frigid North Idaho waters.  They looked so good and 'swim' in the moving water that it wasn't long after cil'n time that several divers wanted in.  Then bunches of geese flew long and slow right over The Point. So close I could have thrown a baseball at them.  Then I saw a first for me, a diver came and landed so close that he saw me only at the last second.  I was wearing a white jacket against the snow and the brown of my waders perfectly matched the bank of the channel.  I was invisible.  The diver came in about 3 feet from me and immediately went under while landing.  It was so funny I was laughing as he surfaced and bolted.  Stupid diver.

Again, I was invisible, and I heard movement behind me.  2 greenies were swimming up the channel towards me and my blocks.  I sat perfectly still and waited for them to swim closer but they decided to get out of the water and party on the shore behind me.  My heart racing I waited until I couldn't take it anymore and stood up to give them a chance to fly but the smarmy bastards knew I was H7HT and swam in the other direction.  Even after jumping over the snowy log and giving the old Boogely boogely boo they just swam away.  Bastards.  Not long after I felt a disturbance in the force again and turned to see the greenies swimming around the corner again.  I was prepared to wait them out this time.  As that was going down the unmistakable whistling wing sound alerted me to the greenie landing in my blocks.  He was wary and rightfully so, I stood and dropped him as he tried to get away from me.  Clean 1 shot cil that landed dry and made for an easy retrieve.  I'm eating him in a few minutes.  I can only assume that the sound of my Benelli was enough to make the other greenies behind me skip town.

1X2 of me boarding

After that it dried up quickly and I would have left an hour earlier had it not been so stinking beautiful and peaceful there.  I pulled my blocks and snowshoed back out to the trusty New Black Betty and made it home in time for a fire (in the fireplace) and a thoroughly delicious Rolling Rock while I made my duck bites I will be eating 7 minutes from now.  Happy New Year to all the friends of the greatest hunting team ever created, the H7HT, and as always...

GBCH

Hello from Idaho

Holy skiing!  It’s been hard to fit greenie killing into my schedule with all of the fantastic powder that has besieged our area.  But like any true Expert, I put a little time aside and got after it. 

A couple weeks back I did some scouting and saw nothing between Kellogg and Swan Lake.  Undeterred I headed out to Anderson to hunt about half way between the point and the blind.  I set a fantastic spread, almost a whole boat worth of blocks and shells.  I then settled in on the edge of the water while the light was still low and waited.

I knew I was in an area that gets a lot of traffic, and it was a good thing too, because nothing wanted to commit.  I had a close call with some swans flying at just the right angle down the shore line, shot fired, shot missed, thank Heston.  When they are lined up right at you those necks are invisible.  That didn’t stop a pair of honkers from flying about 40 feet off the deck right at me about 20 minutes later though.  One shot and a goose came crashing down on the beach to my right.  After that it was a whole lot of watching high flyers, almost no ducks to speak of anywhere. We packed up and headed home, unaware of the kickass snowstorm headed our way.

About a week later I did a little scouting and spotted some birds out on Swan Lake, a place that has always looked promising but never delivered the goods.  I headed out extra early as the boat ride would take about 30 minutes.  The launch was shallow at Medimont, I ended up having to use my back to shove the boat off the trailer.  In the channel I was accosted by several swans that confused by the boat, jumped out and were struck by the bow.  Everyone appeared ok, so I moved on.  That was the second time in a week I almost put a swan on the CTP score board. 

I got to the Swan lake channel, boated in, set up a magnificent spread, and settled in.  5 minute before legal time 5 mallards came in, settled for a second and then took off.  After that I watched as my channel froze and the birds moved in and out of the big part of the lake.   Lots of birds but nothing wanted anything to do with me.  After a few hours of freezing, Peat and I went to walk and then grab the boat. 

After a crunchy walk in a foot of breakable crust I got in the boat and turned to see a single greenie hovering dead center over my spread.  As I approached the spread two more greenies and a hen took off.  Greenie you are a bastard, Peat and I headed back empty handed.

On the way back I decided to check out a potential walk in spot that I was telling Bob about a while back.  I parked the boat and headed over the dyke, I could see the potential new point and it was loaded with mallards.  This point extends past the icy bays on either side and comes close to the open water.   I think I’ll be watching this spot for the next warm cycle.

As I’m about to get back in the boat a single greenie comes out of another wetland on the river side and flew well within shooting distance.  I dropped him with the kind of confidence that you have when you are the Expert of the world’s finest hunting team.  A single shot and then Peat navigated some patchy ice for a retrieve that would have been a miserable commitment for me to get.  We loaded up and headed back.  I parked the boat at the mouth of the channel and took Peat for the obligatory walk.  About half way down a huge fat greenie popped up and surprised both of us.  I shotten three times at a very big target, I messed three times.  Confidence back in check.

A week of shralping the gnar (Skiing like an Expert) later, it was time to get Peat out of the house for a mid day walk.  We headed to Killarney around 1:00 and after spotting some birds in the channel headed out to get our jump shot on.  After frightening everything away without firing a shot we tromped back across the snow and shallow water and decided to walk the river. At the river I put the sneak on the biggest buffle heads and mergansers I have ever seen.  I decided to leave them be and continued down the bank.  I spotted some geese swimming down river and decided to follow them.  The snow was knee deep and after about 20 minutes it became clear I wouldn’t catch that group.   I looked around and spotted a stationary flock floating near the raised embankment.  We speed hiked for another 10 minutes and then closed in for the shot. What happened next was a first for me.  As I came up another group of birds closer and to my left flushed.  I had been doing a lot of thinking about my triple shot a little while back, and decided that I really wanted to work on shottening doubles.  So as this surprise group flushed, I picked out a goose and shot it, then I picked out a goose and shot it, then I picked out a henny and I shot it.  Three birds, three shots, three retrieves. 

Peat and I headed back, and for the first time ever I really wished I had a bird strap with me.  Knee deep snow combined with two geese and a duck made for a very long walk back.  Now I know you are feeling really bad for me right now, but don’t. Everyone has a cross to bear, and mine happens to be shottening more birds than I can carry.  If that’s wrong, I don’t want to be right.