Back on the shore about 150 yards from the Hospital Point blind was a fallen cypress tree. Half on the bank, half in the water. The main part of the trunk was hollow. Guess you can figure out the gist of this story.
As I've alluded to, I am not much of a poacher. Anybody can periodically make a mistake, or can call it a mistake after the fact. The New River used to have more Canvasbacks than it did Bluebills. That was great until the FWS decided the Canvasbacks weren't doing well and greatly reduced the limit and eventually closed the season entirely. Even though it's not necessarily based on a lot of scientific data, if I see 2ooo Cans in a day and see 20 Bluebills that same day, I tend to believe the Canvasback population isn't in such dire straights as the Feds seem to think.
Anyhow, Dad came down from Ohio to hunt with me for a week or so. I had been shooting a fair number of Bills and seeing thousands of Cans for 2 straight weeks before Dad got here. So, the first morning he hunted we shot a few Bluebills. Nothing spectacular, but a half dozen or so. He was enjoying himself and so was I. He spotted another bunch of ducks winging our way and told me to get ready. It was 100% obvious to me that they were Cans. They even slightly circled the Bluebill decoys to come in on the side of the spread where I had put out the Canvasback decoys. Dad called the shot, so I thought he was fine with shooting the Cans. We both came up firing and as soon as Dad shot once he hollered "Cans!" I continued to swing on the birds and replied "I know". When Hoss brought them all in, Dad started getting nervous. We hadn't seen a human all morning, but Dad really got worried. I stashed the ducks in the hollow log and we continued to hunt.
Hour or so later a car pulled up on the bank behind the blind. That really made Dad nervous. He took my binoculars and peeked back at the car. First thing he focused on was the driver of the car staring back at him with binos. Dad went crazy then. I tried to calm him down. Eventually the guy in the car finished his lunch and left. Him being there had nothing to do with us, just a Marine looking for a quiet place to eat his lunch.
Dad wouldn't let me go get the Canvasbacks until we had the decoys up and gone back to the Marina and put the boat on the trailer. Finally I convinced him it would be OK to go get our ducks. Typical Dad, once we made it home safely he became the big story teller of the day's events. Whatever. Guess it is a good thing that hollow log never started telling stories. Quite a few of us might be in a little trouble.
As I've alluded to, I am not much of a poacher. Anybody can periodically make a mistake, or can call it a mistake after the fact. The New River used to have more Canvasbacks than it did Bluebills. That was great until the FWS decided the Canvasbacks weren't doing well and greatly reduced the limit and eventually closed the season entirely. Even though it's not necessarily based on a lot of scientific data, if I see 2ooo Cans in a day and see 20 Bluebills that same day, I tend to believe the Canvasback population isn't in such dire straights as the Feds seem to think.
Anyhow, Dad came down from Ohio to hunt with me for a week or so. I had been shooting a fair number of Bills and seeing thousands of Cans for 2 straight weeks before Dad got here. So, the first morning he hunted we shot a few Bluebills. Nothing spectacular, but a half dozen or so. He was enjoying himself and so was I. He spotted another bunch of ducks winging our way and told me to get ready. It was 100% obvious to me that they were Cans. They even slightly circled the Bluebill decoys to come in on the side of the spread where I had put out the Canvasback decoys. Dad called the shot, so I thought he was fine with shooting the Cans. We both came up firing and as soon as Dad shot once he hollered "Cans!" I continued to swing on the birds and replied "I know". When Hoss brought them all in, Dad started getting nervous. We hadn't seen a human all morning, but Dad really got worried. I stashed the ducks in the hollow log and we continued to hunt.
Hour or so later a car pulled up on the bank behind the blind. That really made Dad nervous. He took my binoculars and peeked back at the car. First thing he focused on was the driver of the car staring back at him with binos. Dad went crazy then. I tried to calm him down. Eventually the guy in the car finished his lunch and left. Him being there had nothing to do with us, just a Marine looking for a quiet place to eat his lunch.
Dad wouldn't let me go get the Canvasbacks until we had the decoys up and gone back to the Marina and put the boat on the trailer. Finally I convinced him it would be OK to go get our ducks. Typical Dad, once we made it home safely he became the big story teller of the day's events. Whatever. Guess it is a good thing that hollow log never started telling stories. Quite a few of us might be in a little trouble.
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