Rhodes Point

Let me give you a little of the background that led me to Rhodes Point. The New River was in an extended down cycle, but Mouse Harbor wasn't much better. Whit was getting worse and worse. Always upset about the lack of shooting, and drinking a little too much to suit me. I was looking for something to break because my sons were getting old enough to become semi-regular hunting partners. As I wrote in another story, my sons and I tried Hospital Point out of a boat blind and really did great. So I decided to make a stab at building a new blind.

I had heard plenty of shooting farther down the river, but Hospital Point had always been good to me. Good water depth, easy to get to, the old blind that was there when I started hunting the New River had lasted 20 seasons. So I never planned on leaving that point. Summer of 1996 I built a brand new blind there. Pumped out the last of the pilings from the old blind and moved about 20 yards and put up the new one. Did a fantastic job on it. Spent a lot of money on it. Then Hurricane Bertha came, just a week later, before my pilings really had a chance to get solidly planted. The blind blew over backwards at about a 45 degree angle. But at least she held together. We managed to right it and it started to firm up again. Then along came Hurricane Fran. That was a bad hurricane. Took ever blind off the river, including my new one. Well, there is no insurance on duck blinds so I was out of luck.

That Season, Pamlico Point was fairly decent, but it was hard to coordinate my time off with Whit's time off, and my boys' school schedule. So I tried the boat blind on the New River a little bit. Dad and I had a week off and hit 35 mph winds from the Northwest for 5 straight days. Way too much wind to hunt Hospital Point. We ended up hunting out the week up on the White Oak River. Did OK but I kept looking at the New River. Then we found a launch ramp at Rhodes Point. It was on the Verona Loop side of Camp Lejeune. Down in the area where we used to hear a lot of shooting when we only hunted Hospital Point. Lots of old pilings from past blinds, lots of stories of good blinds and hunters down on that part of the river. Dad and I really gunned the Bluebills the last few days of the season out of the boat, but when I got my boys out for the last day the wind turned East and ruined it for us.

I couldn't afford to build a new blind yet, had to save my money for another year. Old Game Warden told me I could hunt a blind off the shore as long as I was below the high water mark. So I built a portable blind and the boys and I did well from that the following year, until the last day when the Base Game Wardens told us they didn't care what the State Game Warden said, we couldn't hunt from the bank unless we were checked out with them. That training area was never open so I knew I had to come up with the money to build a blind. The following summer I got a friend who had a couple boys my sons age to go halves with me on a blind. I designed it for a month, got all the materials together and built it in May. Early enough to get it stuck in real good before the hurricane season.

It's 2010 and the blind is still standing. It has stood 7-8 hurricanes, being hit by a barge, and broken into a zillion times by every lazy SOB who won't build their own blind. But it is still standing. Over the years it has turned into an engineering marvel. I designed it so that I could disassemble it partially, so there would be less for people to steal and less there to be battered by storms. I still have the plans I used to build it and the list of materials. Initially it cost $1000. Probably spent another $1000 on repairs and upgrades. I imagine it would cost $2000 to build another one just like it. Probably have to in another couple years, so I am already planning that financially.

Our best year from Rhodes Point was 300 birds. Had several years with over 200. Also had a couple years so bad that I hate to even tell about it. We have killed Canada and Snow Geese, Mallards, Black Ducks, Wigeon, GW Teal, Canvasbacks, Redheads, Bluebills, Goldeneye, Ringnecks, Ruddy Ducks, Buffleheads, all 3 Scoters and some Mergs and Coot. 95% of our ducks have been Bluebills, but a sprinkling of all the other species has been nice.

It has become my favorite place on earth to shoot ducks. Lots of different hunters, a couple of good dogs, about 1500 ducks and a million good times.

Late Season Hunts

Since I settled here in North Carolina, the majority of my hunting is late in the season, almost always waiting for the big migrations of birds to arrive. Some years they get here earlier than usual, some years they get here after the season is closed. I still plan my annual leave for the last 2-3 weeks of the season. Normally it doesn't get real cold down here (this year is the exception) so it isn't a big deal whether I'm gunning in November or January. When I lived up in Ohio it was a different story.

I actually hunted ducks in Ohio for 15 years. I understand that the season in Ohio has been adjusted quite a bit from when I hunted there. But when I hunted there the season opened in mid October and ran till the end of November. Then it reopened for a week between Christmas and New Years Day. Only got to hunt that late week twice at Indian Lake due to the lake freezing over. Both times it was a really good shoot.

First time I got to hunt late we had the Hermit Island blind. We had scouted the lake a few days before the season reopened and it was frozen over. We hatched some plan to attempt to hunt the Miami River close to where it flowed out of Indian Lake. We got to the launch site only to find several trucks mired in frozen mud and the dirt ramp completely unusable. We drove on up to the lake just to visit with a friend and saw some open water towards the north end. We drove around to Turkeyfoot Point and sure enough the lake was open. We launched and cruised to the blind. Lots of ice out on the main lake, but our little bay was fine. We hammered the ducks. Dad, Dennis Chaney and I shot full limits for 3-4 days. All Mallards and Black Ducks, never saw any other species. All big, prime, migratory birds. Big flocks decoyed, singles practically came in the blind with us. It was just as good as I had ever hoped for.

The second time it was about the same. Dad called a friend who lived on the lake just to see if by chance there was any open water. He told Dad that 95% of the lake was frozen up, but that there was open water for 300-400 yards right in front of our blind on Oldfield Island. We were there the next morning. Had to break a lot of ice in the channel getting out to the open water. We had the Herter's Model Yukon and it plowed through the ice real well. We just set out Mallard decoys and a few geese. There was some open water out in the very middle of the lake and the ducks were rafting up out there. Left the lake to feed fairly early in the morning and then came back in to roost sometime in the middle of the afternoon. When they were coming back to the lake, they were passing right over our blind. The shooting was fantastic. Just like the other time, the only ducks we saw were Mallards and Blacks. That certainly didn't hurt our feelings. We slayed them for 3 days until the ice shifted and a piece about the size of Rhode Island broke off and came ashore right at our blind. Had a real battle saving our decoys, and the blocks took a beating when the ice came crushing into the existing ice. But we salvaged them, a little less for wear. One of the days we killed our first ever Giant Canada Geese. The limit was just a couple but we killed all we were allowed and the 6 birds were a boatload.

So, my expectations for the 'late season' were met and exceeded. I still hear a few stories from the hunters up there about good late season hunting. Glad I got to sample it a couple of times.

Plan B

One day Morris Whitfield and I were hunting out of his blind #74. He named his blinds for how many birds he killed from them the first day he ever hunted there. Yes, I said the first day! That was before I started hunting with Whit. After a few years with me as his partner he started adhering to the hunting laws, a little. Anyhow, we shot a few Scoter early in the morning and got one pass on Bluebills about 1000. Other than that we weren't seeing much. Morris was getting itchy, wanting to leave and get back to his Jack Daniels. I encouraged him to stay a little longer. The weather was changing a little, clouding up , and the wind coming up, so he agreed to stay till noon.

Shortly after that we had a bunch of Canvasbacks give us a look. Whit said if they decoyed he was going to shoot (the season was closed on Cans). I said fine. They came in and left minus a nice pair of drakes. We sent both dogs and gathered them up in a hurry. Morris hid them back behind the blind and sprinkled them with Black Pepper. He said a Game Warden had busted him once by turning a Lab loose to search around his hunting area, and the Lab found some hidden birds. We settled back in the blind and in no time another flock of Cans came by. Same result.

Well, even Whit could tell it was time to go, so we came up with our plan. While I picked up the decoys he tied several anchors to the feet of each of the Canvasbacks. He said if a boat approached us too close on the way in that I should drop them over the side. So we headed in towards the landing but instead of going to the ramp we turned and went way up to the head of Jim Creek. A friend owned the land at the head of the creek and Whit said we'd walk back down there and pick up our birds after dark. Sounded good. Got way up the creek and all of a sudden right ahead of us was a pretty big boat. We had no clue what was going on. But we didn't stick around to find out.

Got back out in the open and Morris asked me what I wanted to do. I said to execute Plan B. He asked exactly what that was. I told him to approach Zool's Crab House at full speed and hold as close to the seawall as he could. He didn't ask why, he just did it. When we were behind the Crab House, out of plain sight, I launched the 100 pounds of Cans and decoy anchors into the weeds between the seawall and the dock. We went on to the landing and after recovering the boat, went on to the trailer. Whit asked me how I intended to get the birds from a public place like that. I asked Whit's wife, Wanda, to put on some nice, uppity looking clothes and get her biggest purse. She drove down to the Marina and strolled around looking over the fishing boats and what ever else a rich lady would look at. Eased over to the ducks, cut the anchors loose and piled them in her big oversized purse. Got back in the car and came to the house. We dined on fat Canvasback that night. Plan B was a success.

Decoys

When I first hunted with my Dad, we used a couple dozen paper mache Mallard decoys. He bought them used and repainted them with Herter's paint. A couple of them had the bills broken off and Dad whittled new bills for them. They did OK. Unfortunately about the time Dad got serious about hunting over decoys at Indian Lake, duck hunting seemed to be gaining popularity. Big spreads of decoys became almost a necessity due to having a lot of hunters within just a few hundred yards of each other.

We bought a big bunch of used decoys from Louie Brucken. Repainted them all as Mallards and Black Ducks. Bought our first new decoys, a dozen Herter's Model 63 Bluebills. Next I bought a dozen Model 63 Canvasbacks. Dad bought 2 dozen Mallards and we were getting there. Dad and Harry Fleming bought 6 Canada Geese from Bruce Shoup. He had made a mold from a Model 81 Herter's goose and mixed his own chemicals and made decoys. We were competitive with the other hunters at Indian Lake with that spread of about a hundred decoys.

When I joined the service and had some money for the first time in my life, I bought 3 dozen oversized Mallards, Herter's Model 72, and a dozen Canvasbacks. Changed the heads on the dozen small Cans to make them Bluebills. Ken Henderson added a dozen oversized Blacks. Then we made a deal with Bruce Shoup to make decoys on a 50/50 basis. He supplied the materials, we supplied the work. We ended up with 36 really nice geese of our own. From some of the bodies that didn't turn out well, I made a bunch of oversized Bluebills. So we sold off all our standard sized decoys (except for a half dozen of my original Model 63 Canvasbacks) and ended up with 50 Mallards/Blacks, 39 Canada Geese, 12 Canvasbacks and 26 Bluebills. We hunted that spread of 127 decoys for several years. Kept them all painted up nice and I think we out-decoyed all the hunters on Indian Lake.

But, styrofoam decoys won't last forever and some of that spread are gone now. I still have 42 of the puddleducks, 4 of the divers and 30 of the geese. I have added more Model 72 Bluebills, Cans and Redheads. Bought about 3 dozen Restle oversized Bluebills. Painted a few as Goldeneyes and repainted half the geese as Brant. So my current diver spread is all oversized, hand painted, many years old, but as nice as you'll ever see on the water. Not a season goes by that other hunters don't stop and comment on my decoys. I repainted the old Model 63 Cans and kept them as souvenirs, a pair for me and a pair for each of my sons.

I own 10-12 dozen plastic decoys; Teal, Gadwall, Wigeon, Pintails and even 2 dozen Bluebills. The puddleducks are for the Gameland Impoundments we hunt occasionally.

I use the 2 dozen little Bluebills to augment my 32 decoy Seaduck rig. All oversized cork, I made almost all of them myself. They are real big, real heavy, and look great out in the rough, open water. Scoter can't pass them by :-)

I have a few semi-decorative decoys, but nothing of any value. I have a half dozen LL Bean cork Blacks but don't get to use them much. I even made some canvas covered Swan decoys a few years back. They were too big and cumbersome, besides, we hunt Swan in fields. I have some field shell Canada's and Mallards.

It would take me a half day to count them all, but I have enough. I could go back to Indian Lake and make the other hunters throw up.

Firsts

My very first duck was a hen Wigeon. We didn't even know what it was at the time. Got a copy of "Ducks at a Distance" and identified it a couple months later. Shot it in November, 1964. We were hunting out of the Hermit Island Blind. I don't know if it was our blind that year, or if it was just empty that day and we hunted there. Shot it with my Dad's Browning over and under. Missed it on the water with my first barrel and killed it when it jumped with my second shot. I think I accidentally pulled the trigger when the gun recoiled, but it killed the duck, so I was good to go.

Killed my first Canada Goose in October, 1969. We had the Walnut Island blind that year. Dad had killed a couple geese the year before that. Some friends who hunted on a nearby lake, where there were a lot of geese, had recommended using 4 Buck as a goose load. Dad hand-loaded a few and we kept them handy. A pair of geese flew over some friends of ours and they crippled one of them. It flew a mile or so, but we watched it. Dad suggested letting it sit on the water and bleed out a little, so after a half hour or so he took the boat and went to check on it. The uninjured goose flew as soon as Dad got close and came right to my decoys and landed. I loaded my gun with one of the goose loads and blasted it, along with a Model 63 Bluebill decoy. I still have the shot up head on display in my den. Dad eventually killed the crippled one so we each got one that day.

Killed my first Snow Goose on the Prof's farm in Maryland in January, 1981. First one I ever had come close to me. My brother Tom had some gun trouble the previous weekend so I took his gun home and repaired it. Then he couldn't hunt the next Saturday so I took his gun to make sure I had fixed it properly. Not thinking that his stock dimensions were different than mine, when I got the Snow Goose in gun range I couldn't get on the gun right, and missed it with my first 2 shots, then hit it with the last shell. It sailed over a slight ridge in the field and buried itself in about a foot of snow when it hit the ground. I searched for a half an hour before I saw a tiny patch of black wing feathers down under the snow.

Killed my first Swan on the Goose Creek Impoundment in 1985. Mike McGee and I had a small flock fly right over us and we each got one.

My first double on ducks was a pair of Wood Ducks. When we hunted the Walnut Island blind we used to turn and face backwards looking out over the marsh in the interior of the island for the first 10 minutes or so. Woodies came out of there every morning, sometimes low enough to shoot at. I killed that pair on 10/27/67. I'll remember that date always. A huge storm came up and we had to get off the lake and leave our decoys. Got some of them gathered up that evening and the rest the next morning. But that high wind scared me and I marked a calendar "Big Wind" on that day.

Killed my first triple on ducks in January, 1970. A friend of Dad's invited us over to hunt Lake St. Mary's in Celina, OH. The lake was frozen over and we went out on the ice and set up a spread of goose decoys. Didn't kill any geese, but when we were pulling the sled back in, I saw some duck tracks in the snow and followed them down a little channel and snuck up on about 15 Mallards in a little hole in the ice. Jumped them up and smacked down 2 drakes and a hen.

Killed my first banded duck in October, 1967. A Blue Wing Teal. Curiously, it was banded in Stalwart, Saskatchewan. Same little town where I hunted when I went to Canada in October, 1998.

Killed my first banded goose in October, 1969. It had been banded over in Celina, OH.

Killed my first Brant in January 2004 out on Chincoteague Island, VA. Killed my first banded Brant later that same morning. It was banded on Southampton Island, at the northern end of Hudson Bay.

My first Blue Goose, Ross' Goose and Whitefront Goose all happened the same day; the second day of my trip to Canada in 1998. Haven't ever killed a banded bird of any of those species. The ones I killed on that trip are the only ones I've ever had the chance to kill.

I'm patiently waiting on some new and exotic creature to fly over my decoys so I can add another "first" and maybe even another banded bird.

Mouse Harbor

Very strange name, no idea of its origin. Great place to shoot ducks. Mouse Harbor is probably about 6 square miles of open water, just south of the mouth of the Pamlico River where it opens into the Pamlico Sound. About 80% of the land around Mouse Harbor is owned by some rich lawyer from Virginia Beach. He actually owns a million or so acres in that area. The remainder of the shoreline is state owned Gamelands. We hunted stake blinds built just a few feet from the shore adjacent to the Gamelands. For 15 years or so we had a great time. But the newer generation of duck hunters put an end to that. Too lazy to build their own blind, it was easier to help themselves to our blinds. We fought with them for years, and in the end they won. I don't have good enough control of my temper to face some ne'er-do-well every morning and politely tell them to get out of my blind. I load my gun with OO Buck and get fairly nasty. Didn't want to go through that ordeal when I was teaching my sons to hunt and to be good sportsmen. So I quit hunting there. It was a lot of good times over the years.

First time I ever hunted there I was with Mike McGee. We had hunted the Goose Creek Impoundment and heard shooting outside the impoundment, so after the season we went exploring. We found a few blinds out there, no idea who owned them. So we decided we would hunt there the next season and see if it was any good. Our first hunt was the day after Thanksgiving in 1984. We set our decoys in a likely looking spot and hid the boat along the shore. We just sat down in the grass right at the edge of the water to hunt. By 0900 or so we had killed a pair of Bluebills and a pair of Buffs. Really not getting much action. A blind about 500 yards east of us was having a real shoot. We probably heard their guns go off 50 or more times. We could see flocks of ducks cutting by the point they were on, but the ducks just weren't venturing down into the bay where we were set up.

About 1000 we saw the guys in the blind picking up their decoys, so Mike rode up there and asked if we could hunt their blind since they were finished. They said it wasn't their blind so they could care less if we hunted. The blind wasn't grassed or anything, the other guys had just wrapped burlap around the frame. Really looked like it was just an abandoned blind so we decided to try it. We picked up our decoys and moved up there. While we were putting out the decoys a flock of Scoter buzzed right past us. Mike had never seen Scoter before and didn't even know what they were. I had killed some on the Chesapeake Bay and knew what fun they were, so we got in the blind and put our boat camouflage around the front and got ready. First pass we killed a couple birds and I got out of the blind to work Hoss. When he was bringing in the last bird a boat pulled around the shore with a bunch of hunters in it. One of them climbed out and walked over to me. He introduced himself as Morris Whitfield. I introduced myself as Staff Sergeant Brannen, USMC.

He told us that it was his blind but it was OK if we hunted out the day. I had no idea if he was telling the truth or just making something up. I thanked him anyway and said so long. After I got back in the blind I saw a little sign in the blind with his name and address. So I knew he had been telling the truth. I just figured he must not hunt it very much or else he would have it fixed up a little better.

That day when we finished up, we decided we would build our own blind there because the shooting was strong. We hunted out of our boat a few more times that season. Found out the hard way that Jimmy Johnson (the lawyer from Virginia Beach) was an SOB and had a caretaker who would run you out if you hunted within 500 yards of his property. We watched the birds enough to see where we would like to build a blind the following summer.

After the season, I contacted Morris and soon after that we went up and spent the weekend at his trailer in Lowland. He and I really hit it off and continued to hunt together until his untimely death last year. He joked about our first meeting out on the water. He said he had been fighting with other guys for years about breaking into his blinds and had mostly won the battles. But he said when he saw McGee and I, he decided it was better to make friends than to go to war with the U. S. Marines. Probably a wise move. He had hunted that area, particularly Mouse Harbor for 15 years before we started hunting up there, so he really taught me a lot about the area. He hunted there for the Bluebills and the Scoter. After a full season where we killed about 300 Bills and Scoters, I could see why. Rarely killed anything else, but the shooting was good. Over the years I killed Black Ducks, Mallards, Wigeon, Gadwall, GW Teal, Canvasbacks, Redheads, Goldeneye and even a couple Snow Geese out of our blinds. But 98% of the shooting was Bluebills and Scoter. Not much for the dinnertable, but wingshooting at its finest.

It is a shame that the non-sportsmen ruined it. At least for Morris and I they did. I don't want to have to fight for my own blind every morning, then have someone burn it down about every other year. What is wrong with the hunters today? Pepsi generation. Not willing to work for it, but feel like someone owes them a place to hunt. I imagine Mouse Harbor will always have some ducks. Maybe someday I'll venture back up there and see for myself.

No Name Island

Long, long time ago, we shared a cabin on Indian Lake with another group of hunters. Dad was pretty much hunting by himself while I was gone playing Marine. I went home for a couple weeks leave to hunt with him. We killed some birds, had a nice time. I didn't get all that much time to hunt, so when I was home I hunted everyday, including Thanksgiving Day.

Joe didn't have anyone to hunt with that day so he and Dad and I hunted. We hunted his blind on No Name Island. I have no idea where that name came from, never met anybody that knew. Whatever, it was a pretty good blind and the wind was better for it than our blind that day. Joe was a pretty hard hunter. Got started hunting with a real old-timer. Old enough that he had used live decoys in his lifetime. Joe had been a pretty good student, and had a nice blind and a good decoy spread.

We shot a couple Wood Ducks early, and mid-morning had a small flock of Bluebills buzz us. We killed a couple of them and were pretty satisfied with the day. Close to noon, the temperature dropped a little, a few clouds started puffing up in the sky and a huge migration of Mallards showed up. Flocks of a 100 or 200 appeared in the North and sailed over the lake looking for a likely resting spot. About a dozen of them found their spot; hanging in our blind. Fantastic afternoon.

Probably 15 minutes till quitting time, I suggested that since we hadn't seen anything for a while, we pack it up. Just as a joke, my Dad said he wasn't leaving until we got some geese. We hadn't seen a goose all week, but another 15 minutes wasn't going to hurt anything. About 2 minutes later a small flock of Canadas came up the lake and landed outside our decoys. We called back and forth with them for about 10 minutes. They were slowly working their way towards our spread, but time was running out. One minute before quitting time Joe decided to shoot and scare them off the water and see what happened. Dad and I were loaded with #4 Buck. As soon as Joe shot and the geese jumped, we laid into them. 4 big Canadas fell. We didn't have a dog with us so we ran out in the boat and picked up 3 of them, but couldn't find the other one. Dad had stayed in the blind and saw the other one swimming off. He gave us a hand signal and we soon found the other bird. 3 out of the 4 were banded. What a great way to top off one of my best days at Indian Lake.

Had a hamburger at some beer joint for our Thanksgiving dinner. But it was a great holiday out on No Name Island.

Ever Hear of a Collector's Permit?

Through my old partner Morris Whitfield, I became acquainted with a wildlife biologist named Phil Crutchfield. Phil had a very impressive set of credentials and had the reputation to be granted a Federal Collector's Permit. The NC State Museum of Natural History endorsed his permit here in North Carolina and he collected things for them. Well, he didn't actually do much of the collecting. He arranged the trips, but Phil was a Korean War veteran who suffered from Polio and had a bad leg. He could limp around the banks of marshes and spot exotic species that the Museum needed or wanted, and then have his gunners finish the deal.

I was invited to help him fill a couple of shopping lists for the Museum. They would give him a list of what they would like to have and usually a list of other species that were killable, in order to lure us in to going on a collection. I recall one time they wanted some Coot. Not worth my time and trouble to set out on an expedition just to kill a couple Coot in their March breeding plumage. Another time they wanted some drake Shovelers. A very colorful bird when in peak plumage, but again, not hardly worth making a special trip. So each time they would grant a little allowance to keep us going back for the 'special birds they needed'.

One weekend the allowance was all the Teal we could shoot, in hopes of getting a few drake Blue Wings in prime late March plumage. Morris and I volunteered for the "dark and lonely job". I happened to get lucky and kill a Cinnamon Teal on that trip. First and only one ever confirmed in North Carolina. It currently resides in the MNH in Raleigh. Was pretty neat when my kids went on school field trips to the Museum and could show their friends the duck that I had so generously donated.

Another day we had along a friend of someone, who was a non-hunter all the way. He borrowed a pair of waders from Whit and jammed his oversize feet and insulated booties into a pair of size 9 waders. About the time we got set up he started complaining about cold feet. Morris shot the first duck of the morning; a banded BW Teal. Well, the guy finally climbed out of the blind where we were hunting and sat there practically crying about his cold feet. Whit felt responsible for him and walked him back out of the marsh. Well more accurately, he carried him. The guys feet were completely numb by then. I was stuck there alone, to shoot 24 Pintails. Took about an hour to finish that terrible chore.

Crutchfield was in the process of writing a book on Black Scoters. He had even been funded by somebody to travel the Arctic and attempt to find their breeding grounds. Didn't find it, by the way. But with his reputation, and with the foundation of his book being very sound, he had been granted a green light by the USFWS to harvest all the Black Scoters he wanted in the name of research. I only got involved in that a little bit, but Whit had a lot of 100 Scoter days as he and Phil gathered data. Phil died a couple years back, with his book still unpublished.

Not all the trips were exciting. Wading the swamps of Cumberland County in search of a nesting colony of Anhinga, and instead finding the largest Coral Snake ever found in North Carolina was one of the assignments. I wasn't involved in that one at all.

All in all, having an accomplice with a Federal Collector's Permit is a good thing. You should try and find one right away :-)

McGee's Big Spoonbill Day

Went up to the Goose Creek Impoundment with my partner Mike McGee. It was about 1990 and the limits were reduced, the season shortened, the beginning of some pretty slim years. They had reduced the Pintail limit to 2 birds out of a 4 bird limit. To me, it was still worth all of the effort it took to hunt out there just to be able to shoot a couple nice Bull Sprigs. For McGee, it was worth the effort just to fire his gun.

We didn't get our favorite spot, had to settle for a very small clump of grass about 200 yards away. We pretty much had to face the sun in order to have our decoys visible in some open water. It wasn't the best, but there were birds there, and with a little patience it was still possible to have a nice hunt.

I told Mike I wasn't going to shoot until it was good daylight and I could pick out really nice drake Pintails. He apparently wasn't of the same mindset. Shortly after shooting time he killed a bird back in behind us. The dog brought it back; a Shoveler. I kidded him a little and soon he was at it again. With 3 drakes and 1 hen, all Shovelers, his day was done. I took about an hour to kill 4 beautiful drake Pintails.

We picked up our decoys and headed back to Jacksonville. When I dropped him off at his house he spoke to me in a very small, almost childlike voice. "You going to make me take all these Spoonbills?" I didn't. My sons had never seen one before, so I took a pair home.

The High Hen

Back when you could still shoot a limit of Pintails, we hunted the Goose Creek Impoundment quite a bit. What a fantastic place it was 30 years ago. Not many hunters, ducks galore. I probably hunted there 7-8 days a season and can't remember but 2-3 days that we didn't shoot a limit. Nice ducks too. Mainly Pintails, but always a few Wigeon, Gadwall, Green Wing Teal and an occasional Black Duck. Different friends of mine, mainly McGee just shot whatever came by. I was a little more selective. But it wasn't beyond me to shoot a hen.

My Dad, my brother Tom , Mike McGee and I went up there for the last day of the season, about 25 years ago. It was typical late January weather; cold and windy. Heavy overcast that day, almost looked like it could snow. We didn't hunt our favorite spot because the wind was a little too far east of north and really blowing a gale. But we had a good spot in some heavy reeds.

Nobody hunting close to us, at least not too close. So it was a fine day. The ducks started moving before shooting time, and they were everywhere. We started killing birds as soon as it was light enough to see what we were doing. McGee's little Lab, Bug, was our retriever that day and worked like a champ. Last day she ever hunted. Got sick right after the season and passed away. She was a very small dog, maybe the rigors of the season were just too much for her. That aside, the day is firmly etched into my memory. My Dad only got to hunt the impoundment a few times and it was good that he was there for a truly fine shoot. We mostly just took turns shooting. Sometimes if we had a small flock decoy to us more than one man would shoot. We made the hunt last a few hours anyway. Killed a couple Green Wings, and someone shot a Shoveler (won't say who), but we really did great on the Pintails. Had about 15 nice drakes. When the flight started to slow down a little, I switched over to some 3" magnum shells to try to increase our chances to kill a limit. I think all 3 of the others shot at a little bunch of Pintails and dropped one out in the open and one in the heavy reeds behind us. Bug saw the one in the decoys and fetched it, but she didn't get a mark on the other one and had no luck finding it at all. So they were all looking for the bird, and meanwhile I was counting the birds. We had 18 birds on the duck straps, and the one they were searching for. I could have gone and helped them, but thought I'd better keep an eye on the decoys. Just about the time I heard someone say they had found the missing bird, I had my eye on a hen Pintail that was coming over really high. I pulled out in front of her about twice the length of my 870 and let an ounce and 5/8's of number 2's go. Killed her stone dead. Dad turned around to see what I was shooting at and I just motioned skyward. The bird still looked like a speck in the sky and it had been falling for a couple seconds already. She splashed down about 5 yards from me. That's 20 I said. Dad was still in shock over the high shot, but someone was mumbling around about me sneaking that bird while everyone else was busy. The way I see it, the complainer should have marked his bird down better and it wouldn't have taken 3 men and 20 minutes to find it.

I'm pretty sure that was the biggest day of my Dad's hunting life up till that point, so he was really enthused about the day. All of us were excited. Beautiful, late season birds in full plumage. But even with all the Bull Sprigs we had killed, that last high hen sticks out the most in my memory.

Craig's Famous Chili

Teal Season back in Ohio was always an iffy deal. Some years the birds were there, some years they weren't. We never put much planning or effort into it. In 1974 I was out of the service for about 9 months and was able to hunt every day of the duck season, including the Teal Season. That was the only year that any of us went at it very hard.

My old friend, Craig Wallace and I went up to Indian Lake planning to stay for the entire Teal Season. We camped at Harry Fleming's campground, Cree Park. We had a dual mission that week, hunt and build our duck blind for the season. We did a great job of building and grassing the blind. By far the best blind we ever had at Indian Lake, but we spent several days working on it.

The night we got there, Craig mixed up a cauldron of assorted foods and called it his famous chili. All week long he added "stuff" to it and we kept on eating.

We hunted Teal each morning and each evening. Didn't have much luck. I think we killed 2 Teal each day. Lots of motoring and rowing the boat. Lots of wading through the marshes. Very little shooting. During the day we worked on the blind and at night we ate chili.

By Thursday night Craig had such a belly ache that he drove back to Dayton. I found out a week later that he ended up in the hospital with abdominal somethingorother. I guess the famous chili just about got him.

So Friday morning I went hunting with only Chief as a partner. We had spent what little money we had buying ingredients for the chili, so by Friday, I had one bottle of Pepsi and a dozen Fig Newtons to keep us going. After fighting 80 degree temperatures all week, Friday was cold. Fog on the lake from the sudden drop in temperature and down right cold. After all our efforts of the week, I didn't have a dry stitch of clothing. Either wet from sweat, or from stumbling around in the marshes. So I was pretty miserable on Friday morning.

Despite the fog, I went across the lake to Long Pond marsh to start off the morning. Hadn't seen a duck there all week, but got a little pass right after daylight and knocked down a pair of Blue Wings. I was happy enough. Didn't see any more birds, so after a half hour or so, I took a drink of my Pepsi and Chief and I each ate a Fig Newton and we left. I was cold and miserable but thought I would take one last look in Blackbird Basin. My favorite place to Teal hunt, but hadn't seen a bird in there all week. Well, they were here now. The marsh was just buzzing with Teal. I killed another pair in nothing flat and headed back to Cree Park. It was still early so I gave the birds to someone for safekeeping and headed back to Blackbird Basin. I shot another limit in an hour or so. Another drink of Pepsi and another couple cookies.

Took those birds to the Park and tried to convince Harry to come out hunting with me. He said he was busy, but maybe he and his son would join me for the evening shoot. Whatever, I hunted with Chief the whole day. I ended up shooting 4 limits of Teal. Pretty much made up for the slow week I'd had. I truly hated it that Craig couldn't have been there to share it with me. He worked hard and hunted hard all week up until Friday and had only a sick stomach to show for it.

That evening I was really miserable. Nothing to eat, sleeping bag all wet from a couple thunderstorms earlier in the week, clothes all wet. Harry saw that I was looking pitiful sitting down by the lake picking ducks in the dark and lent me a couple dollars and his car so I could run to a nearby beer joint and have some supper. Really nice of him. When I took his car back he told me he had talked to my Dad on the phone and that he and my brother Tom would be up to hunt with me on Saturday. Good to go.

Tom woke me up after daylight Saturday morning and I thought I had died during the night. Got so cold I got some sort of muscle cramp in my back and could barely walk. They got me to the boat and they took a canoe. We all headed to the scene of yesterday's crime with high hopes for a repeat. Tom missed one Teal. That was the extent of our day.

The Teal had moved though with that cold front and only stopped on the lake for 24 hours or less. Where hundreds of Teal had been at sunset, there were none by sunrise. Like I said, Teal Season was always an iffy deal.

Craig fully recovered, but missed a couple weeks work as a result of his famous chili. Next time I talk to him I'll ask if he still has the recipe

Shotguns

I just recently heard that Bo Whoop is up for sale. If I could just hit the Lotto real soon, I'd buy it. Bo Whoop 2 sold for $167,000. Can't even imagine what the original will bring. Maybe someday my 870 Remington will be as famous as Nash's old gun and my kids will strike it rich.

Not likely.

I actually started off my gunning career with a Browning Superposed, Lightning Trap. It was the only extra gun that my Father had at the time. I don't really remember what he was hunting with at the time. He has a Model 12 that I think he was using when I first started hunting, but I'm not certain. From that I moved on to a Model 31 Remington. A friend of my Father's had given him the gun and it was a fine shotgun. About that time I also started hunting rabbits and quail and Dad got a Flues Model Ithaca double. 26" barrels with little or no choke, but the gun had such a crooked stock that I never shot it well. Then Dad came across a 16 gauge Model 12. 26" Modified. Great upland hunting gun. The first year he let me use it he bought four boxes of shells, #5 shot. He told me that I had to shoot straight because he couldn't reload the 16 gauge shells and we couldn't afford to buy many new shells. 3/4's of the way through the season I came in from an afternoon rabbit hunt carrying the Model 31 and Dad asked if I had shot up all the 16 gauge shells. I told him yes. We checked my little notebook where I kept track of my hunting trips and found that I had killed 94 rabbits, squirrels, quail and pheasants with the four original boxes. That night he took me to the store and bought a case of 16 gauge shells.

At the beginning of the hunting season my senior year in High School, Mom and Dad gave me my graduation present. Brand new Remington 870 Magnum, 30" Full choke. They also gave me a 26" Improved Cylinder barrel for it. I was set for life.

For 30 years I don't think I ever fired another shotgun. I still love my 870 but in the past 10 years I have fooled around a little with different guns. After a trip to Canada where I had a lot of arthritis problems in my elbows I decided to try out a Benelli M1 Super 90. I really shoot it well and it has become my primary duck gun. I don't have to worry about damaging the barrel shooting non-toxic shot because I just buy new choke tubes after I ruin one. I also have a Model 12 Heavy Duck that I shoot from time to time, but I have to use Tungsten Matrix shells so as not to damage the barrel and that is expensive. I have a V Grade Parker double that is really nice for field hunting, IC in the right barrel and Full in the left. Both these guns were gifts to my Father from old friends and he passed them on to me.

I bought each of my sons a Remington 870 Magnum on the day they were born. They both shoot them very well. My son Kevin bought my grandson Kevin an 870 when he was born, so the tradition continues.

Snow Day

A few years back we had one of our rare snowfalls here in coastal Carolina. We were having a pretty good duck season. A few of us planned on hunting on my day off, but snow was predicted. Down here the highway department has no provisions for snow removal. So we figured it would be too bad of a drive.

We got up early just to see what the weather was like. The snow had started and the roads were completely covered. I drove around the neighborhood and actually the roads seemed alright so we decided to try it.

Dad and my son Kevin went with me. We were just a couple miles from the house when we encountered another car. Out of control. I had to get on my brakes and that sent my Blazer and the boat trailer into a large scale skid. When I recovered, my Dad suggested we turn around and try to make it home. I overruled. I told them if we could make it to the River we'd have a great shoot.

We made it, but it was tough going at times. Once I got out in the country, you really couldn't tell where the road was. I ran off the road several times but was able to keep it out of the ditch. Once we turned down the gravel road to the river it was alright. We made it to the ramp and before we could even get launched we saw some headlights coming. It was my partner Trevor. He had a little miniature pickup truck and said it was a scary ride but he made it uneventfully.

We got set up and the snow continued to fall. Very little wind, snow piling up on the backs of the decoys. Beautiful. Probably 45 minutes after shooting time the first Bluebills showed up. The flight went on and on. In an hour we had a four man limit. Trevor said he had enough and volunteered to take all the birds home with him. Fine by me. So Dad, Kevin and I shot another limit. Kevin still says it was the finest day he has ever hunted. It was right up there with the best for Dad and I too. My son Mike still regrets that he didn't go along. Decided the night before to stay over at a friend's house because he thought the snow would stop us from hunting. Wish he could have been there. Dads always wish their sons could share good days like our Snow Day.

The Big List

This will take some time, and keep in mind that it is a work in progress.

1. Mallard
2. Black Duck
3. Redlegged Black Duck
4. Mallard X Black Duck Hybrid
5. Mottled Duck
6. Northern Pintail
7. Gadwall
8. American Wigeon
9. Northern Shoveler
10. Wood Duck
11. Green Wing Teal
12. Blue Wing Teal
13. Cinnamon Teal
14. Canvasback
15. Redhead
16. Common Goldeneye
17. Greater Scaup
18. Lesser Scaup
19. Ringneck
20. Ruddy Duck
21. Bufflehead
22. White Wing Scoter
23. Surf Scoter
24. Black Scoter
25. Common Eider
26. Borealis Eider
27. Oldsquaw
28. Atlantic Brant
29. Atlantic Canada Goose
30. Hudson Bay Canada Goose
31. Giant Canada Goose
32. Hutchinson Canada Goose
33. Greater Snow
34. Lesser Snow
35. Blue Goose
36. Ross' Goose
37. Whitefront Goose
38. Tundra Swan
39. Common Merganser
40. Red Breasted Merganser
41. Hooded Merganser
42. Coot
43. Black Necked Swan
44. Coscoroba Swan
45. Greater Magellan Goose (White Phase)
46. Greater Magellan Goose (Barred Phase)
47. Lesser Magellan Goose (White Phase)
48. Lesser Magellan Goose (Barred Phase)
49. Ashey Head Goose
50. Ruddy Headed Goose
51. Yellow Billed Pintail
52. White Cheeked Pintail
53. Rosey Billed Pochard
54. Chiloe Wigeon
55. Red Shoveler
56. Speckled Teal
57. Sharp Winged Teal
58. Silver Teal
59. Puna Teal
60. Ring Teal
61. SA Cinnamon Teal
62. Black Headed Duck
63. Argentina Bluebill
64. Fulvous Whistling Duck
65. White Faced Whistling Duck
66. Yellow Billed Coot
67. Mourning Dove
68. Argentinian Ground Dove
69. Eared Dove
70. Pigeon
71. Spot Wing Pigeon
72. Blue Wing Pigeon
73. Jacksnipe
74. Woodcock
75. Ringnecked Pheasant
76. Melonistic Mutant Pheasant
77. Bobwhite Quail
78. Perdiz
79. Ruffed Grouse
80. Sharptail Grouse
81. Chukar Partridge
82. Hungarian Partridge
83. Snowshoe Rabbit
84. European Hare
85. Cottontail Rabbit
86. Jackrabbit
87. Marsh Rabbit
88. Argentine Hare
89. Clapper Rail
90. Eastern Wild Turkey
91. Rio Grande Turkey
92. Red Fox Squirrel
93. Black Fox Squirrel
94. Gray Squirrel
95. Red Squirrel
96. White Tail Deer
97. Black Bear
98. Racoon
99. Ground Hog
100. Crow
101. Black Bird
102. Red Winged Blackbird
103. Meadow Lark
104. Robin
105. Starling
106. Pied Bill Grebe
107. Opossum
108. Coyote

Realistically, I may never add another species. But I hope to kill: Brazilian Teal, Black Bellied Tree Duck, Pacific Brant, Pacific Eider, King Eider, Harlequin Duck, Eurasian Wigeon, Barrow's Goldeneye, Sandhill Crain, Ptarmigan, Wild Boar,  Bobcat and a Hephalump.

Saskatchewan

10-12 years ago I got a chance to go to Saskatchewan. An old friend of my Dad's invited me up to hunt with a small group of guys that had been going up there for 20 years. They actually bought a house up there, took all the decoys, boats, trailers, and hunting gear that they needed and left it up there. Each Fall they pack up some food and go hunt for a couple weeks. Pretty cool.

We hunted geese in the fields in the mornings and ducks in the marshes in the evening. We tried a couple other things, like pass shooting along a refuge boundary, pass shooting between two separate marshes where the birds trade back and forth a lot. But mostly we just stuck to the basic plan.

While I was there, I learned that geese prefer a pea field to any other grain. We didn't have any cornfields to hunt in, but we shot in barley and wheat stubble fields as well as the pea fields. It was the first time I ever had the opportunity to shoot Lesser Snows, Blues, Ross', Speckle Bellies and some very tiny sub-species of Canada Goose. I took good advantage of the opportunity. In the marshes I shot Mallards and Canvasbacks. There were a lot of Shovelers around, but I passed on them, except for a couple that took me by surprise. All in all we killed a decent assortment of ducks, but I stayed pretty much with the big birds. We killed a lot of Pintails and Mallards while goose hunting in the fields. A couple of days we shot nearly a limit of ducks before the geese even started to fly. Nothing wrong with that.

The farmers up there treated us great. My friends had made it a point to get close to the guy that ran the Tax Office. So we could go scout for geese, mark their location on a map, and he could tell us who owned the land. Every place we asked permission, we were allowed to hunt. Big difference from here in the States. We made it a point to clean some birds and offer them to the farmers, and most of them accepted a few. There were some old folks up there who could use the birds to make it through the Winter, so each bird ended up on a welcome dinner table.

I could have shot a Sand Hill Crain, but they just didn't look like a game bird so I passed on that. In retrospect, I wish I would have killed one. Just to add it to my Big List of creatures that have fallen in front of my 870. Maybe someday.

The year we were there they didn't allow non-residents to shoot Hungarian Partridge or Sharp Tail Grouse in the area where we were. My friend Paul drove me over into the zone so I could shoot a Sharp Tail because I never killed one before. But there were tons of the birds right around the house and it certainly would have been really nice to have been able to shoot them in the middle of the day when we weren't shooting ducks and geese.

Saskatchewan was a really neat place. The old homesteads were right out of history books. The fields were as big as the eye could see. The farm equipment was bigger than I'd ever imagined. I guess when you farm square miles vice acres, you need big stuff.

Paul is a great cook, so we ate well while we were there. Their house was warm and cozy. Even the little town where they stayed was neat. Big grain elevator on the side of the train tracks that ran through town. The setting was out of a Maynard Reese print.

This past October they invited me up there again but I couldn't get vacation time. Maybe someday I'll make it back. I hope so.

The Eastern Shore

In any collection of waterfowl hunting stories the Eastern Shore of Maryland needs to be included. I was stationed at HQMC and my brother Tom was attending the USNA over in Annapolis. He was befriended by a professor who happened to own a 100 acre farm just outside Centreville, MD. He let us hunt on the farm, exclusively for 3 years. Hard to comprehend a man that generous, most landowners on the Eastern Shore are hard to deal with.

The Prof had a couple really nice pit blinds and one small fence row blind on the farm, which was one big cornfield. He also had a nice pond on the farm and a small house that he rented out. He even let us use his decoys which he kept in an equipment shed on the farm.

We soon found out that decoying geese in the fields in Maryland was not an easy task. In two years that I hunted there I probably only had half a dozen flocks of birds actually come in to my decoys. Most all the shooting was pass shooting at birds that came close to take a look, but decided against it. I think Tom killed 18 geese there the year before I hunted. Together we killed 39 one Winter and 19 the next. Tom hunted a couple of times the following year, but I don't think he had a whole lot of success. I killed 2 Snow Geese and 1 Mallard and everything else was Canadas. We had some great times. Killed some, missed some, froze some, laughed a lot, roughed up a few shins climbing out of the pits. All in all, an unforgettable experience.

One day I was there by myself and it looked to be a good weather day. Cold, heavy overcast, windy. The type of day I love the most. Just about shooting time, it took a turn for the worse; it started sleeting. The Prof's blinds had a solid roof over half the pit and wire over the rest so I just tucked back under the roof and stayed out of the weather. 15 minutes after shooting time I had my limit. Birds were walking around in the decoys, they did everything but climb into the blind with me. Then my good luck continued. Rich Forfa and a friend of his who trained retrievers showed up and needed some geese to train with. I gladly gave them the limit I had and went back to the pit and had another limit down in no time at all.

We got acquainted with the fellow renting the house from the Prof, and he was a hunter as well. He was almost exclusively a duck hunter. He shot geese for something to eat, but when I asked him why he didn't shoot pheasants, quail, rabbits, etc., he merely said "Why?" A true duckman, raised on Barnegat Bay, NJ.

He introduced Tom and I to Sea Duck hunting. We shot boatloads of Scoter and Oldsquaw on the Chesapeake Bay. We shot in Eastern Bay and at the mouth of the Chester River, depending on the wind and the weather. Great shooting sport. I still pursue Sea Ducks and still love it.

I guess we didn't hunt or shoot all that the Eastern Shore had to offer, but we had some great shoots and some fun times. I have told a lot of people since then, that I still think of someday moving up there. The people, the land, the wild game, the seafood and the history of the place make it very appealing.

Gunning in Argentina

My second trip to Argentina was a blast. I was more relaxed and could take time to enjoy the trip for what it was. Not so worried about killing certain birds, or certain numbers of birds or if I was getting my money's worth. The first year I was a nervous wreck the whole time, somehow expecting the bubble to burst and the shooting to fizzle out. Actually I did have a couple not so great days on the ducks my first trip down. But on the second trip I was alright with everything that happened.

There were just 4 of us, which was nice. We had all been with Rancho Salvaje Safaris before so we were welcomed with open arms. I had made friends with the senior Bird Boy my first time down. When I got out of the van at the ranch the second year, Jorge ran over to me, and I could see that he remembered me and felt as good about our friendship as I did. I didn't do anything to bribe his friendship, as some gringos do. I just treated him like another hunter, not a lackey. So right from the start the trip was great. We stayed at a ranch named El Malabrigo (the saddle blanket) near Bragado, a very historic town in Argentina. We shot in marshes around a big lake a couple days. Shot potholes in flooded cornfields in the evenings. 55 Rosy Billed Pochards in 12 minutes :-) Shot at a private gunning club one morning and another day we went out in the big lake in boats and hunted from stake blinds. I shot a couple different species of Swan as well as a lot of ducks. Jorge was in charge and treated me GREAT.

The goose shooting was near perfect. We had plenty of birds, we all laughed and joked. I made everybody take notice with a nice fourfle. Not sure of the spelling, but 4 birds with 4 shells. Even the bird boy was impressed. We shot 3 mornings and 1 evening. Killed plenty of Ashey Head Geese to go along with the Magellans. Fantastic. We stayed at the same ranch as before for the goose hunting. Had some great evenings hanging out with the bird boys again.

The middle of the days we spent shooting perdiz and hares. Very similar to upland hunting here in the states. Just as much fun as it always is.

So, to anyone who ventures down to Argentina, take everything for just exactly what it is. Relax, enjoy the total experience. True, it was fun to have very liberal limits and to shoot till your gun barrel really was too hot to touch. But the Argentina experience is much more than that. Go down there, you'll see what I mean.

Back to the New River

When I think of Bluebills, I think of the New River. I've shot Bluebills from here to Last Mountain Lake and a lot of places in between. But to me, the New River is Bluebill shooting as I enjoy it the most.  My idea of diver hunting in general is big water. Although I would like to have shot Canvasbacks and Redheads in the numbers that I've shot Bluebills, that has never been allowed in my lifetime. So I am a Bluebill hunter. Some years I never pull the trigger on any other kind of duck. I spend most of duck season in a big box blind, staring out over miles of open water. That is pure fun to me. It can get pretty rough at times, even a few days each year that I can't hunt due to the wind. But enduring the rough conditions is worth it to me, each and every time a flock of Bills turns toward my decoys.

I started hunting the New River in 1975, when I was first stationed at Camp Lejeune, NC. There have been years that I was stationed other places around the world and couldn't make it back to the New River. But I always kept it in my mind. The river seems to run in cycles on the ducks. There have been periods of 2-3 years that the duck numbers were so poor that I didn't even hunt on the New River. But the ducks always come back, and so do I. Back in the early 1990's the River was in a down cycle and I was spending my seasons hunting on the Pamlico Sound. Plenty of Bluebills up there, plus Scoters and a few other ducks. But you have to be even a little more careful about the weather up there. Especially if you are taking your young sons hunting with you.

Along about 1995, my boys were old enough the try some open water hunting and we had a couple trips to Pamlico Sound spoiled by high winds. We all had the day after Christmas off and wanted to hunt somewhere, so I told the boys we'd head back to the New River and see if any birds had shown up. A partner of mine had been out a couple days and done nothing, but we had the day off together, so we gave it a try. Went out to Hospital Point. I had hunted a blind there for almost 20 years and loved the area. The old blind was long gone, so we rigged up a little boat blind the night before. Got out there and set the decoys and I started teaching and talking to the boys about Bluebill shooting, and virtually promised that even if we didn't do any good that day, that the birds would be back and we'd get them eventually.

Hadn't been sitting there very long when a nice flock of Bluebills came up the river and turned right into our decoys. We knocked down a few. You can't imagine the joy and relief I felt. My sons' first diver hunt and we got some birds in and everybody shot well. Only a short time later, here came another bunch. We added to the duck straps. Everything was working out perfectly.

14 Bluebills and a Black Scoter later, at about 10:00, we picked up the decoys and headed home. My Bluebills were back on the New River and so was I, and so was the next generation of duckmen.

My Little Brother Gets Muddy

A long time ago I came home on leave and the lake where we hunted in Ohio was frozen up and the ducks all gone. I talked to my Dad about heading back home to Kentucky to hunt. Maybe it was the non-resident license fee, or maybe Dad really knew what he was talking about, but he suggested we head down to Brush Creek. Brush Creek is a good sized tributary of the Ohio River, just a little ways east of our home town of Maysville. Way back when Dad worked on a towboat he said he always remembered seeing ducks at the mouth of the creek, so we decided to give it a try.

My younger brother Tom went along with us, one of his very first hunting trips. The first morning we launched after daylight and sort of cruised the creek, looking for a likely place to put out a few decoys and try our luck. It was late December or early January and the River was high and the creek was flooded in a couple spots. We found one really nice looking cornfield along the creek that was pretty well flooded. The water was deep enough and the bottom muddy enough that we used the boat to put out a half dozen Mallard decoys. Tom and I got out of the boat and hunkered down in the edge of the corn while Dad motored on up the creek to see if he might stir up any ducks. We hadn't hunted too long when a nice flock of Black Ducks came down the creek. I called and they saw our decoys and started working. When it looked like they were committed, I told Tom that I'd call the shot. I counted to 3 very slowly. Tom was just a second ahead of me. By the time I started to say 3 he was up and shooting, bagging a nice double. I killed a duck or two as well. Wasn't but just a short time later when another flock came in. Tom held his own on that pass as well.

Dad heard our shots and headed back down to see what we were doing. Just as he killed the motor and prepared to row into the field to check on us, a Mallard drake passed over him really high. He made a great shot on it. He retrieved our birds, we had 7 Black Ducks down, then told us where to meet him so we could get into the boat safely. Just about the time we were climbing into the boat, a single Blue Winged Teal passed over us high. I took a crack at it and killed it stone dead. It must have fallen 40 yards out into the cornfield. Before Dad or I could say a word, Tom attempted to turn and run out to get the duck. Unfortunately, his hip boots didn't get the message. They were sunk, ankle deep, in the mud. His feet stayed in place and he fell face first into the mud. Really bad river bottom mud. He was down, his gun was buried in the mud. One of the biggest messes I have ever seen. I imagine if you asked him today, he's just about forgotten about the muddy mess, but I'm sure he remembers his nice double and the other good shots he made that morning.

We hunted again the next day, but the water level was down and we couldn't get back into that flooded bottom. I think we killed about as many birds the second day, but we did it mostly by sneaking around in the boat. Pretty good trip for all of us, after we got all the mud cleaned off my little brother.

2 Flocks Enter - No Flocks Leave

Several years ago, back at Indian Lake, we had an unusual day. I was hunting with my Father and my old high school hunting partner Dennis Chaney. We had a good blind on Oldfield Island at the west end of the lake. A friend of Dad's had suggested we get that blind because of an increasing number of Canada Geese using our lake, particularly down in that area. Turned out to be a better duck shooting location than we had imagined.

Anyhow, mid-morning we had a small flock of 5 Ringnecks turn toward our decoys. They came right in until the last second and flared unexpectedly. When they flared they went right into the sun, just as Dennis and I both shot. The ducks disappeared and we thought they flew directly away from us into the sun because we never saw them again. It was fairly calm, but after a minute or so my Dad said to look out in the decoys and there floated a dead Ringneck. When I got out to work the dog I could see another, then another and then I could see all 5 of them. All of them on their backs, stone dead, feet in the air. We were surprised, to say the least. Neither of us really admitted to 'flock shooting', it was just that the ducks knotted up tight just as we lost them in the sun and each of us fired our one shot. Pretty neat.

An hour or so later we heard geese. Looked all over for them and finally saw a flock of 7 Canadas sitting on the water a thousand yards away. We started calling as loud as we could and one of them seemed to answer us from time to time. After a half hour or so, we saw one of them take off and fly right toward us. We kept calling and sat tight and the bird landed just on the edge of shooting range. It called a couple more times and the rest of the flock picked up and came to the decoys. They didn't land but gave us a decent enough pass that all 3 of us got one. After I shot my goose, I turned to look for the one that had landed and it was just getting off the water so I shot at it twice and seemed to hit it both times but it kept going. Oh well, we each had a goose. The last bird never caught up with the other 3, it fell dead about 250 yards out in front of the blind. Dad went out in the boat to pick it up and before he could get there the remaining 3 geese landed with the dead one. They flew when the boat got close and came pretty near getting shot as they flew past our decoys. Instead of leaving, as they should have, they landed on the island a few hundred yards from our blind. When Dad got back we discussed our strategy. We decided that Dennis and I would attempt to sneak up on them, even though there was no cover. Dad took the boat around to the far end of the island to maybe get a shot as they flew away from us.

We gave Dad about 5 minutes to get down there and then began our stalk. We walked, then hunkered down, then eventually crawled on all fours trying to get close enough. When they started to get too nervous we stood up and let them have it. We killed 2 of them and badly crippled the last one. We had emptied our guns and just had to stand and watch as the badly shot-up bird slowly flew away down the island. We had lost sight of it when we heard a single shot. The bird had flown directly over my Dad as he sat in the boat up against the shore.

7 out of 7.

I guess the moral of the story is that it's better to be lucky than to be good. We didn't shoot all that well, didn't do anything all that well. But we had 2 passes and none got away.