I Only Shoot Greenies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My name is Clider, and I only shoot Greenies!