As I have confessed to, I do sometimes shoot over the limit. Again, it is just sort of my way of balancing out for the days I don't get to hunt, and to 'correct' errors that the FWS may have made in setting the limits. Back at Indian Lake we occasionally made what we referred to as "meat runs". If we happened to get a limit of a certain species and there were plenty more to shoot, we would take birds back into the cottage and to the landing where we had launched and store them in the car. Never to a point of being game hogs. For example, on a nearby lake a resident flock of Canada Geese was being established. Well, to ensure that the Refuge Manager looked good on paper so he could get his Federal funding, they cut our Goose limit to one bird in 4 or 5 surrounding counties. We didn't have any captive flock at Indian Lake, ours were mostly migratory birds. So when we got that rare flock of geese over the decoys it really was hard to stop at one bird. When the limit was 2 we never shot over the limit, but just shooting one bird was asking too much.
Then there were the years that we were on the 'points system'. The point values of the various birds seemed always geared to get the rich shooting clubs on Lake Erie the best deal. Pintails at 10 points and Ringnecks at 35 points, for example, in 1974. That was totally wrong for the rest of the state, but took care of the rich people. We pretty much totally disregarded the law that year. We had more Ringnecks at Indian Lake that year than we had all other ducks combined, so we shot them, and never stopped shooting them. Same type of a deal on Redheads and Canvasbacks. Right within the Mississippi Flyway other states could shoot 4, but they were 100 point ducks for us. Kill one duck and be finished for the day. Not likely. I never quite reached a 1000 points in a day, but came close a few times.
In my lifetime there have been plenty of Wood Ducks. Maybe 70 years ago they were threatened, but not in my life. But the limit has historically been low. All the work involved in finding a Wood Duck hole, and getting in and out of it merits more than just a couple birds. The big problem with hiding Wood Ducks is that you have to go all the way back into the swamp to bring them out.
I can also remember that in 1969 Ohio limited us to one Mallard. The rest of the entire free world had 4-5 Mallards that year. Situations like that will make a poacher out of an otherwise honest hunter. We ran out tank after tank of boat gas, making meat runs with our 'legal' limit of Mallards.
That past 30 years down here in North Carolina have seen similar situations. I think North Carolina is historically known as the baiting and overshooting capital of the world. So, we are doomed to pay for that for the rest of our lives. Even though "we" weren't alive in the hay day of the violating. First they took away our Wood Ducks, setting the limit at 2. Just this past year it went back up to 3. Still not right. They took our Bluebills from 7 down to 2. Actually down to one for the first 2/3's of the season. Closed Canvasbacks all but a couple years out of the past 30 years, and gave us one bird the years it was open. 1-2 Redheads. Sure we can fill a limit with Gadwall or Wigeon. Some years, if you have access to the right places you can kill Gadwall and Wigeon in good numbers, but I have personally never known a man to kill a 6 bird limit of either one here in NC.
One time up on Mouse Harbor I honestly made a mistake on a hen Canvasback. She was flying with a flock of Scoter (?). We had to go back into the public ramp and many times a Warden was there to check your birds. I devised this foolproof plan to put the duck inside my waders. I set it right in the crotch area of my waders and thought I was good to go. Soon as we got to the landing I made a big show of taking the dog to the truck. While I was there I quickly slipped out of my waders and into my regular boots. All the while I was within 20 yards of the Warden. Feeling pretty clever, I backed the trailer up to recover the boat and got out and talked to the Warden and the other hunters. When we got ready to leave, McGee was about to burst with laughter. I thought he was just proud of me for fooling the Warden, but then he said "Look at your hunting pants". I looked down and saw that the entire crotch and seat were blood stained. McGee joked that the Warden must have thought it was my time of the month :-)
I think I've already told about the 'hollow log' on the shore behind the Hospital Point blind.
When I watch 200,000 Bluebills fly by me in a day (that is the absolute truth) and the Feds allow me 1 or 2 birds, it just isn't going to happen. Oh yes, some days I go to all the pains to set up and kill my 2 Bluebills. Actually, a lot of days. But you give me a decent Winter storm, and Bluebills in numbers that the Feds absolutely deny exist and I will 'make up' for the 2 bird days.
I remember slipping up the bank behind the blind one day with a dozen Bluebills on a duck strap, looking for a likely place to hide them. Just when I thought I was completely safe and hidden from sight, I took one more step and a covey of about 20 Quail exploded from under my feet. My bowels nearly exploded simultaneously.
Another day, we had a freak Winter storm and shot a few too many. We would fill one of our leather duck straps with 12 birds and find a place along the shore to stash them. Finally, I stopped to sort of size up the day and realized that we had shot 3-4 boxes of shells, worked the dog over and over again, had 3 different stashes of ducks along the river shore, but not a single duck in the blind. That would have been hard to explain.
Another day, my son Mike and I were hunting and Matt Horne came out to join us. The boys were both about 16 and they were having the best day of their lives up till that point. (Maybe still the best day they have had.) Matt said he had to get going, so I told him he could shoot the last 2 birds of our "limit" if he would take all the birds home with him when he left. He killed a double on the next pass so we followed up on our deal. When I threw the last full duck strap on his shoulder, his knees buckled from the weight of all the ducks. I told him he had 5 minutes to get to his truck and get out of there before Mike and I started shooting again. He grinned and staggered up the bank, turned back and gave us a wave as he disappeared from sight.
Another time up on Mouse Harbor, Whit and I were having a pretty bad week. Just a couple or 3 birds a day. Then on Wednesday all hell broke loose. Whit was down the shore from the blind hiding limits of Bills and then peppering them down. We kept on shooting until he had enough limits to fill out the rest of the week. Lucky for us he did that because we hardly saw another duck all week, but came in with a limit each day. We had the rest of the hunters talking to themselves for the rest of the season, wondering why we were having such good luck.
Whit and I went out to the Goose Creek Impoundment one time during the early season. The place was virtually covered in Blue Wing Teal. We had a great shoot, but it only lasted for about a half an hour. My last bird came from behind and I jumped on it really fast and literally blew it into 2 pieces. Completely ruined the bird. I decided I wasn't going to go home one shy of the limit so I discarded that destroyed bird and shot another one. Whit was competitive enough that he couldn't stand it that I had shot one more bird than him, so he knocked down the next bird that came by; a hen Shoveler. I told him that was a lot of risk for a terrible table bird, but he said not to worry. We had ridden out to the impoundment with some friends of Whit's that had a big boat. They had hunted separately, but we were traveling together. Whit stuck the 'extra' Shoveler in an ammo can they had in the front of the boat and we headed over to pick them up. Sure enough a Warden stopped us. He climbed into the boat with us and checked out gear and our birds. Then he asked what was in all the ammo cans in the front of the boat. Whit said it wasn't our boat so he didn't know. The Warden started methodically checking about 2 dozen ammo cans. Each one was full of fishing tackle, but he kept on checking. When he had one can left (the can with the Shoveler in it) he said he'd seen enough and climbed back out of the boat. Only Whit could have been that lucky.
Out at Hospital Point one time I had decided to fire away at Canvasbacks. It was the last day of the season and I had watched thousands fly by that year and not shot any. Well, I should have remembered from previous years that the Warden always stopped by on the last day of the season, but never thought of it. McGee hadn't killed any Cans because he did remember. Sure enough here comes the Warden. I kicked the Cans up against the front wall of the blind and jumped out to help the Warden hold his boat. It was a fairly rough day and he was fighting the wind trying to hold his boat in position. McGee showed him our guns and licenses and all our Bluebills. The Warden kept trying to look over the front of the blind to check it out for himself. Each time he leaned forward I would bounce his boat and he would teeter on the gunwale and start to lose his balance. I finally told him I couldn't hold the boat steady any longer and he said "Thanks" and went on his way.
I haven't made a habit of shooting over the limit, but there have been, and probably will be some more days that we have to hide a few birds. They all end up on my supper table, so I feel no guilt or remorse. Just because I am not a "rich man" and can't buy the laws or the law enforcement personnel doesn't make me a poor sportsman. Enough said.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Blackbird Basin
It got it's name from the thousands of blackbirds that used to cling to the cattails and do whatever blackbirds do. Hard to say how big the marsh was, because there really wasn't any boundary on the western end, but 50 acres is my guess. Hermit Island, as I knew it, was sort of fishhook shaped and the inside of the hook was a cattail marsh. Sort of thinned out on the west end near Garbage Island. The Basin sat pretty much out in front of the cottage where we stayed at Turkeyfoot Point. We crappie fished there in the Spring and Summer, and shot ducks there in the Fall and Winter. It was by far our main hunting spot during Teal Season. If Teal were on the lake you would find them there.
It was probably the best Wood Duck marsh I've ever seen. Unfortunately, about the time I started duck hunting, Indian Lake was becoming a popular hunting spot and everybody who didn't have a blind would crowd into the marshes around the perimeter of the lake. That ran all the Woodies out very early in the season. I can remember Dad coming home from there one Saturday night with an empty beer carton packed full of Wood Ducks. I couldn't believe it. I wanted in on that. I killed some ducks in Blackbird Basin, but it was mostly Teal and then a few Mallards when the weather was too rough out on the lake. But it was still a great place to hunt. Late in the season when all the skunk hunters were gone, we virtually had Blackbird Basin all to ourselves. We could hunt there for a half hour in the evening after we had given up out at our blind. You never knew what would come in. Maybe nothing, maybe geese, maybe a Wood Duck or maybe a handful of Mallards.
On the back side of Blackbird Basin, where a channel ran through the south side of Hermit Island, you could come in by boat. Just step out on the bank and walk 10 yards and be looking out over about a half acre pond of open water. Beautiful. Many a Mallard, Wood Duck and Teal met their demise in that little pond. I used to love hunting there even when the birds weren't flying because there was always hope. If any ducks came into the Basin they were going to look at that little pothole. I killed most of the Blue Wing Teal that I've shot in my life right there.
Two trips out to the Basin really stand out in my memory. The first one was a stormy day, wind 30 mph or so, way too rough to get out on the lake. Dad and I sat and waited for hours to see if the wind would die. Never did. So about 1400 I took the Gizmo (a little steel rowboat) and a half dozen decoys and Chief and rowed out to a likely spot. Set the decoys with the wind at my back, pulled the boat back in the reeds and Chief and I covered up with cattails and burlap. It started snowing a real blizzard. I sat there with growing anticipation. Finally, through the snow I saw 2 birds with their wings set, sailing right at me. I got ready and at the exact second that I stood up to shoot, I realized they were Killdeer. I was as crushed as a 12 year old can be. Still remember that day, still wish they had been ducks.
The other day I recall was a cold day. We had hunted out in our blind and Dad had killed some ducks, but I hadn't hit any. So I was feeling pretty low. One day a week to hunt and I had missed on my shots. Dad was going to take a nap before driving back to Dayton and I asked if I could take the Gizmo out in Blackbird Basin. It was 90% frozen over and Dad didn't think I had any chance of getting any shooting, but he let me go anyway. I fought the ice bad. Made so much noise there was absolutely no possibility of sneaking up on any ducks, but I kept hoping I'd hit some open water. Sure enough when I hit the little channel on the backside of Hermit Island it was open water. I slowly rowed the boat down the channel, hoping that the little pothole at the far end might have open water and a few ducks in it. I had to turn around in the boat to row properly because I had push-rowed all the way out there so I could watch for ducks. About the time I got in position and started rowing again something caught the corner of my eye. A beautiful drake Wood Duck about 5 yards from my boat. He jumped and I missed him 3 straight shots.
Hard to describe how badly I felt. I already loved duck hunting, but hadn't hit anything all day. Ready to give up, I didn't even check the little pothole I just turned the boat around and headed for the cottage. With whatever slight glimmer of hope a young boy might have, I decided to push-row back just in case a duck had snuck in there on me. It was much easier rowing going back because I had broken up the ice on my trip out. Just about the time I cleared the open water channel and was ready to follow my little trail through the ice I looked up ahead and there sat 3 Mallards. 2 drakes and a hen, sitting right in the little path where I had broken the ice. The ducks saw me at the same instant and jumped. Up came the trusty 31 Remington and down went the 3 ducks. A couple were just crippled, but couldn't get away, I rowed right up to them. I was redeemed.
Got closer to the cottage and saw Dad standing out on the dock. He had heard me shoot at the Wood Duck 3-4 minutes before that and came out in time to see me shoot the Mallards. Well he couldn't actually see the shot because the reeds were too tall, but he knew the deal when he saw the big grin on my face.
Really would like to hunt the Basin again someday. Maybe I'll make it back there someday.
P.S. I also killed about a million and one Coot in Blackbird Basin when I was learning to shoot. Great place for a kid to learn to hunt.
It was probably the best Wood Duck marsh I've ever seen. Unfortunately, about the time I started duck hunting, Indian Lake was becoming a popular hunting spot and everybody who didn't have a blind would crowd into the marshes around the perimeter of the lake. That ran all the Woodies out very early in the season. I can remember Dad coming home from there one Saturday night with an empty beer carton packed full of Wood Ducks. I couldn't believe it. I wanted in on that. I killed some ducks in Blackbird Basin, but it was mostly Teal and then a few Mallards when the weather was too rough out on the lake. But it was still a great place to hunt. Late in the season when all the skunk hunters were gone, we virtually had Blackbird Basin all to ourselves. We could hunt there for a half hour in the evening after we had given up out at our blind. You never knew what would come in. Maybe nothing, maybe geese, maybe a Wood Duck or maybe a handful of Mallards.
On the back side of Blackbird Basin, where a channel ran through the south side of Hermit Island, you could come in by boat. Just step out on the bank and walk 10 yards and be looking out over about a half acre pond of open water. Beautiful. Many a Mallard, Wood Duck and Teal met their demise in that little pond. I used to love hunting there even when the birds weren't flying because there was always hope. If any ducks came into the Basin they were going to look at that little pothole. I killed most of the Blue Wing Teal that I've shot in my life right there.
Two trips out to the Basin really stand out in my memory. The first one was a stormy day, wind 30 mph or so, way too rough to get out on the lake. Dad and I sat and waited for hours to see if the wind would die. Never did. So about 1400 I took the Gizmo (a little steel rowboat) and a half dozen decoys and Chief and rowed out to a likely spot. Set the decoys with the wind at my back, pulled the boat back in the reeds and Chief and I covered up with cattails and burlap. It started snowing a real blizzard. I sat there with growing anticipation. Finally, through the snow I saw 2 birds with their wings set, sailing right at me. I got ready and at the exact second that I stood up to shoot, I realized they were Killdeer. I was as crushed as a 12 year old can be. Still remember that day, still wish they had been ducks.
The other day I recall was a cold day. We had hunted out in our blind and Dad had killed some ducks, but I hadn't hit any. So I was feeling pretty low. One day a week to hunt and I had missed on my shots. Dad was going to take a nap before driving back to Dayton and I asked if I could take the Gizmo out in Blackbird Basin. It was 90% frozen over and Dad didn't think I had any chance of getting any shooting, but he let me go anyway. I fought the ice bad. Made so much noise there was absolutely no possibility of sneaking up on any ducks, but I kept hoping I'd hit some open water. Sure enough when I hit the little channel on the backside of Hermit Island it was open water. I slowly rowed the boat down the channel, hoping that the little pothole at the far end might have open water and a few ducks in it. I had to turn around in the boat to row properly because I had push-rowed all the way out there so I could watch for ducks. About the time I got in position and started rowing again something caught the corner of my eye. A beautiful drake Wood Duck about 5 yards from my boat. He jumped and I missed him 3 straight shots.
Hard to describe how badly I felt. I already loved duck hunting, but hadn't hit anything all day. Ready to give up, I didn't even check the little pothole I just turned the boat around and headed for the cottage. With whatever slight glimmer of hope a young boy might have, I decided to push-row back just in case a duck had snuck in there on me. It was much easier rowing going back because I had broken up the ice on my trip out. Just about the time I cleared the open water channel and was ready to follow my little trail through the ice I looked up ahead and there sat 3 Mallards. 2 drakes and a hen, sitting right in the little path where I had broken the ice. The ducks saw me at the same instant and jumped. Up came the trusty 31 Remington and down went the 3 ducks. A couple were just crippled, but couldn't get away, I rowed right up to them. I was redeemed.
Got closer to the cottage and saw Dad standing out on the dock. He had heard me shoot at the Wood Duck 3-4 minutes before that and came out in time to see me shoot the Mallards. Well he couldn't actually see the shot because the reeds were too tall, but he knew the deal when he saw the big grin on my face.
Really would like to hunt the Basin again someday. Maybe I'll make it back there someday.
P.S. I also killed about a million and one Coot in Blackbird Basin when I was learning to shoot. Great place for a kid to learn to hunt.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Rosy Billed Pochards
Before I went to Argentina for the first time I really had no idea what species of ducks they had down there. I had heard of Silver Teal and Rosy Billed Pochards. Reading on the different outfitter's websites I saw the names of a bunch of other ducks. My hunting partner, Kelly Murphy, made me some old timey flash cards so I could identify the ducks. Put a color picture and a brief description of each of the species that she could find down there. It worked out great. Each day I pretty much knew what I was shooting right from the start, and that was important to me. Unfortunately, my first year I didn't kill any Rosy Billed Pochards. The most famous duck in South America and I didn't get any. I did see a flock of about 15-18 but they didn't come close to my decoys. Out of our entire party of 7 hunters only one Rosy Bill was killed, and it was a hen. Didn't seem to make any difference to the other hunters. They were more interested in the Silver Teal and the Cinnamon Teal. Both pretty birds, and I killed a bunch of both of those. I really liked the Chiloe Wigeon. They are a nice big bird, the drakes are larger than our American Wigeon. Very similar to ours, very pretty birds. They also decoy quite well. I would have to say that after 4 trips to Argentina I would rather shoot the Wigeon than anything else down there. When I started taking a Mojo decoy down there with me it almost made it a slaughter on the Wigeon. I honestly had several flocks of up to 8-10 Wigeon that I killed the entire flock. They would just keep circling and circling that Mojo decoy till I killed them all. Maybe even started to cross the line of being sporting.
Anyhow, back to the Rosy Billed Pochard. The second year I went to Argentina we shot around a big lake near Bragado. There were plenty of Rosy Bills there. My first morning shoot I killed a couple pairs of Rosy Bills and was impressed. They are a big duck, the hen looks almost exactly like a hen Canvasback. The drake looks like a gigantic drake Ringneck, but of course had the red knob at the top of the bill, that they get their name from. But they fly and decoy like puddleducks. You would think you had a flock of Mallards or Black Ducks working your decoys. So all in all, I see why a lot of rich hunters say they are the finest duck in the world. They are also delicious on the supper table, so a fine bird all around.
That evening, Jorge took Dave Thomas and I to a little pothole in the middle of a cornfield. Probably a half acre of open water then another acre of flooded corn around it. Never in my shooting experiences have I seen anything like the way the Ring Teal and Rosy Bills poured into that pothole that evening. The first half hour we were there the shooting was good, then as it got later the shooting picked up like I have never seen. Dave and I had been gunning together out of a small temporary blind. When the shooting picked up I moved out of the blind and just stood in some bushes about 7-8 yards from Dave. It gave us a little more elbow room, but it also sort of divided the shooting in half. He took what was on his side and I did the same.
After a short while, we both agreed that we had enough and we wanted to get the birds picked up before it got dark. I had finished up with 55 straight Rosy Bills in the last 12 minutes we shot. It was extraordinary. The bird boy that stayed with us was totally amazed at the way I had shot. To my right there was 3 distinct piles of birds. The first pile was where the birds I'd killed with my first shot had fallen, the second pile was from my second shot and so on. I had killed about 70 birds and only one or two were not piled up in the 3 neat little piles. I certainly hadn't done it on purpose, but the birds on my side were all passing the same way. Every time I stood up to shoot it was an identical pass. Wish it had been light enough when we finished to take a picture of it, although nobody would have believed it anyway, it certainly looked like it had been staged.
I haven't had any other shoots where only a couple of species were killed. But that evening we only killed Rosy Bills and Ring Teal. It was pretty cool. I was glad to get that opportunity to see all those Rosy Bills up close and personal. They are truly a fine duck, worthy of all the praise I've heard about them.
Anyhow, back to the Rosy Billed Pochard. The second year I went to Argentina we shot around a big lake near Bragado. There were plenty of Rosy Bills there. My first morning shoot I killed a couple pairs of Rosy Bills and was impressed. They are a big duck, the hen looks almost exactly like a hen Canvasback. The drake looks like a gigantic drake Ringneck, but of course had the red knob at the top of the bill, that they get their name from. But they fly and decoy like puddleducks. You would think you had a flock of Mallards or Black Ducks working your decoys. So all in all, I see why a lot of rich hunters say they are the finest duck in the world. They are also delicious on the supper table, so a fine bird all around.
That evening, Jorge took Dave Thomas and I to a little pothole in the middle of a cornfield. Probably a half acre of open water then another acre of flooded corn around it. Never in my shooting experiences have I seen anything like the way the Ring Teal and Rosy Bills poured into that pothole that evening. The first half hour we were there the shooting was good, then as it got later the shooting picked up like I have never seen. Dave and I had been gunning together out of a small temporary blind. When the shooting picked up I moved out of the blind and just stood in some bushes about 7-8 yards from Dave. It gave us a little more elbow room, but it also sort of divided the shooting in half. He took what was on his side and I did the same.
After a short while, we both agreed that we had enough and we wanted to get the birds picked up before it got dark. I had finished up with 55 straight Rosy Bills in the last 12 minutes we shot. It was extraordinary. The bird boy that stayed with us was totally amazed at the way I had shot. To my right there was 3 distinct piles of birds. The first pile was where the birds I'd killed with my first shot had fallen, the second pile was from my second shot and so on. I had killed about 70 birds and only one or two were not piled up in the 3 neat little piles. I certainly hadn't done it on purpose, but the birds on my side were all passing the same way. Every time I stood up to shoot it was an identical pass. Wish it had been light enough when we finished to take a picture of it, although nobody would have believed it anyway, it certainly looked like it had been staged.
I haven't had any other shoots where only a couple of species were killed. But that evening we only killed Rosy Bills and Ring Teal. It was pretty cool. I was glad to get that opportunity to see all those Rosy Bills up close and personal. They are truly a fine duck, worthy of all the praise I've heard about them.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Make it 4!
Made my 4th trip to Argentina last year and it was good, but not great. There is a really bad drought in progress down there and it finally affected the outfitter I go with. Past years he was able to work around the drought and actually find us greater concentrations of ducks, but our luck sort of ran out. When we got there we were informed that he had cut his limit to 35 ducks per day and that we would only be able to shoot ducks three days out of the week.
I was not pleased and got into a shouting match, and finally a shoving match with the outfitter. I won the match, but he pretty much prevailed on the duck shooting. When you are in a foreign country, and you are no longer in the Marines, you pretty much have to do what you are told, or I guess you could end up in a real bind. Hasn't happened to me yet, but a couple of close calls. Whatever. We were told that we would fill in the rest of the week with dove, pigeon and perdiz shooting. No way I'm shooting many doves down there, no sport to it at all. So a couple half hour afternoon dove shoots was all for me. We did kill several hundred pigeons, which I enjoy, but it isn't duck hunting. Had one really super day where 2 of us killed 20 perdiz. That was as good as it gets on upland birds. One evening we had a great shoot on parrots. The big $300 parrots. Their flight is so erratic that it makes for really difficult wingshooting, and they are really good to eat, so that was fun.
On to the duck hunting. Our hunting party consisted of a husband and wife from Mobile, that were super people. I hope to hunt with them again someday. They aren't hardcore and were very satisfied to kill a couple dozen ducks. The other hunter was a big mouthed cry baby from Louisiana. The very first morning the bird boys told me not to worry, they would take care of me. So I was out in the marsh having a great shoot when up walks the big mouth and looks at the bird counter that my bird boy was carrying. I was at 53 birds. He went crazy. Told me they had stopped him at 35 birds and wouldn't let him shoot any more. I finished up my 75 birds and went back to the trucks. The big mouth had appealed to the outfitter and was told he could shoot some extra birds the next day to even him out but then we would all be held to 35 birds per hunt. I can understand his position. He paid the same as I did and should have gotten equal treatment. But his approach was way out of line. Did a lot towards spoiling the entire trip.
I have stayed good friends with the bird boys since my first trip down there. I treat them like equals, I take them gifts just like I take the outfitter, I spend more time with them than I spend with the other hunters. Not sucking up, just establishing a friendship. I send them Christmas cards and they get a great kick out of that. I email them in the off season and they always respond. A friend is a friend, even though I don't even speak their language, we communicate.
So we negotiated a 4th day of duck shooting for myself and the big mouth. The couple was satisfied to hunt perdiz the last day. I killed the bird boy imposed limit of 75 ducks a day up until the last "extra" day that the outfitter gave in to. He was insistent with the bird boys that we be held to 35 ducks apiece. I still wanted to hunt, so it was fine with me. The outfitter didn't even go along with us, just a couple bird boys. When we got to the marsh, I suggested that the two of us just shoot together. That was fine with everyone. Once we were set up I suggested to the big mouth that we should just fire away until the 70 birds were down, and not worry about how many each of us killed. He was all for that. First shot he fired he killed four birds on the shore, walking around picking up corn. Made a point of telling me that he had me down 4 - 0. The final tally was 53 - 17. He was the most upset human I have ever seen. He couldn't believe that an old man had skinned his ass so thoroughly. Pouted all the way till he got on his flight at the airport. Of course he emailed me later and wanted to be friends. I told him I didn't hang out with people that shot as poorly as he did :-)
All in all I killed a 1000 birds or so, so it was still a great time. But I wish I could pick who I go down there with. I was real lucky the first couple trips, but the last two trips were not so great. Since I don't have any friends to go down there with I guess I'll just continue to hope for decent hunting partners and see how it goes.
I am probably going to take a couple years off from the Argentina trips. I want everything to return to normal once the drought ends so we can have an established plan before I get there and not have to struggle to get what I feel I paid for. I also want to shoot a combination of ducks and geese next time I go and with the screwy goose laws the last couple years that needs a little time to iron itself out.
Still a wonderful time and I still encourage every duck hunter to try their best to get down there once. I have killed 26 different species down there and still hope to add a couple more. Don't miss out on an opportunity like that if you can help it, Amigo.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Wingshooting
I don't think you can truly love and appreciate hunting if you don't shoot well. I realize that there are a lot of elements involved in a successful hunt. But, I feel justified in saying that the killing shot is the element that determines your success or failure. Duck hunting is just bird watching if you can't put the final piece in the puzzle.
I don't claim to be the best shot in the world, so I don't mean to talk down to anybody about shooting. But, I do hold my own most of the time, so I'd like to share some of my thoughts and observations about shooting. Maybe it will help somebody who's getting started. First and foremost; I feel that the mental part of shooting is a much bigger part than any physical aspects. You have to want it. If you want it enough, and make up your mind to it, your body will accommodate you. If it isn't that big of a deal to you, then you will always just be mediocre.
My Dad taught me to shoot a pistol. When I was competing in the Marine Corps I held an NRA Master classification. The Marines (in particular CWO4 York) taught me to shoot a rifle. When I quit competing I held an NRA High Master classification. I once shot the head off a water snake swimming about 40 yards out in the Pamlico Sound with a .22 pistol. I made a 400 yard offhand shot on a deer, with iron sights. I won shooting medals starting with Intercollegiate stuff all the way to the Nationals at Camp Perry. I wanted to master rifle and pistol shooting, and by having the right mindset, it came to me pretty easily. I was decent at Trap and Skeet shooting, but never could afford to compete a lot. Never really had the interest in either one. I actually enjoyed Sporting Clays a little, but couldn't afford to pursue it. I didn't really care about these sports too much, and my scores showed it. I can hit most rabbits I shoot at. Don't think I ever missed a pheasant, and can usually be good for at least one quail out of a covey rise. I love to hunt, shooting is part of it, so I learned how to shoot well enough to put some good suppers on the table.
But my interest lies with waterfowling. I have always worked hard at my duck shooting. As a young boy, I watched with envy as my Dad killed ducks out of each pass. I wanted to be like that. I wanted it very badly. When I was 18 I had killed enough ducks to be getting close, and my folks had given me my 870, so I was gaining some confidence. Christmas week of 1971 I out shot my Dad. Not just on one duck, but the whole hunting trip. He decided to sell his AYA 10 gauge double barrel and get a 3" 12 gauge to try to keep up. I hunted the entire season in 1974. (Took an early retirement for a few months :-) By the end of the season I actually felt I was a good duck shot. Dad and I hunted the blind at Oldfield Island that year and both really shot hard, trying to best each other. I remember one day when we had a pass of Redheads and Dad and I both tripled. We took those birds to the landing, and later in the day I killed a triple on Canvasbacks, Dad only got 2 on that pass. I haven't looked back since. I went on a run of 3 duck seasons that I only missed one duck total. That was just the past few years, so I haven't completely lost my edge. I killed 93 ducks with 4 boxes of shells one morning in Argentina. Followed that with a 100 birds with 110 shells the next morning. Not trying to brag here, just stating some facts.
Some guys are deliberate shots, some are instinctive. Morris Whitfield was an excellent, deliberate shot. Mike McGee was probably the best all around instinctive shot I have ever known. Any shotgun sport, McGee was right there with the best. I don't really consider myself in either of those categories.
I read a book entitled "The Orvis Wingshooting Guide". It was all about gun fit and proper stance. I fully support everything that book said. Probably the best I've ever seen those concepts put down on paper. When I am starting out a new shooter, I insist on them reading it.
I've read for years about different methods of shotgunning. Swinging from behind a bird, shooting as you pass the bird's head, and continuing your swing. I have read about 'snap shooting". Just raise your gun up to where you think the bird is going to be and pull the trigger. I have read about sustained lead. Nash Buckingham said he shot at a moving spot out in front of the bird. When I stop and think on it, shooting at that 'moving spot' probably best describes how I shoot. That is where the mental aspect of shotgunning really comes into play. Naturally, I still have to apply the basics: my gun fits me well. I have spent countless hours working on my footing, until it has become natural for me to assume a good shooting position. Whether in a blind, a boat, or in the marsh, my foot position doesn't change. I shoulder my gun properly, so that it becomes part of me. I don't just hold a shotgun to my shoulder, I embrace it. I grip the shotgun with my right hand so hard that my knuckles turn white, and I pull it back into my shoulder hard. Before I ever mount my gun, my body is focused on the bird I am going to shoot and all my training moves me to that target.
I wholeheartedly support the 'moving spot' theory over any other method of shotgunning. Think of all the factors involved: speed and distance of the bird, angle of flight of the bird, wind velocity and direction, and shot size and velocity of the shell you are using. All those factors dictate exactly where that moving spot should be for that particular shot. After enough practice it all comes naturally. A big Mallard sailing in on cupped wings has that moving spot right on his nose. A Bluebill passing downwind, outside the decoys, has a moving spot about the length of my shotgun out in front of him. With years of practice, it comes to me pretty much subconsciously. I see the bird I want to shoot and it just happens.
I love to teach new shooters, with all weapons. I am probably a better teacher and coach than I am shooter myself, well maybe not. My sons are as good as it gets with a shotgun. They had me to teach them and compete with. They listened and witnessed what was going on and both have learned very well. If they ever held a two man world championship of shotgunning, I would pay my sons' entry fee.
Everything about my sport is interesting and exciting. The ducks, the weather, the location, the decoys, the calling, and the dog work are all a big part of duck hunting. But when you add in some good wingshooting, that is when it all comes together.
I don't claim to be the best shot in the world, so I don't mean to talk down to anybody about shooting. But, I do hold my own most of the time, so I'd like to share some of my thoughts and observations about shooting. Maybe it will help somebody who's getting started. First and foremost; I feel that the mental part of shooting is a much bigger part than any physical aspects. You have to want it. If you want it enough, and make up your mind to it, your body will accommodate you. If it isn't that big of a deal to you, then you will always just be mediocre.
My Dad taught me to shoot a pistol. When I was competing in the Marine Corps I held an NRA Master classification. The Marines (in particular CWO4 York) taught me to shoot a rifle. When I quit competing I held an NRA High Master classification. I once shot the head off a water snake swimming about 40 yards out in the Pamlico Sound with a .22 pistol. I made a 400 yard offhand shot on a deer, with iron sights. I won shooting medals starting with Intercollegiate stuff all the way to the Nationals at Camp Perry. I wanted to master rifle and pistol shooting, and by having the right mindset, it came to me pretty easily. I was decent at Trap and Skeet shooting, but never could afford to compete a lot. Never really had the interest in either one. I actually enjoyed Sporting Clays a little, but couldn't afford to pursue it. I didn't really care about these sports too much, and my scores showed it. I can hit most rabbits I shoot at. Don't think I ever missed a pheasant, and can usually be good for at least one quail out of a covey rise. I love to hunt, shooting is part of it, so I learned how to shoot well enough to put some good suppers on the table.
But my interest lies with waterfowling. I have always worked hard at my duck shooting. As a young boy, I watched with envy as my Dad killed ducks out of each pass. I wanted to be like that. I wanted it very badly. When I was 18 I had killed enough ducks to be getting close, and my folks had given me my 870, so I was gaining some confidence. Christmas week of 1971 I out shot my Dad. Not just on one duck, but the whole hunting trip. He decided to sell his AYA 10 gauge double barrel and get a 3" 12 gauge to try to keep up. I hunted the entire season in 1974. (Took an early retirement for a few months :-) By the end of the season I actually felt I was a good duck shot. Dad and I hunted the blind at Oldfield Island that year and both really shot hard, trying to best each other. I remember one day when we had a pass of Redheads and Dad and I both tripled. We took those birds to the landing, and later in the day I killed a triple on Canvasbacks, Dad only got 2 on that pass. I haven't looked back since. I went on a run of 3 duck seasons that I only missed one duck total. That was just the past few years, so I haven't completely lost my edge. I killed 93 ducks with 4 boxes of shells one morning in Argentina. Followed that with a 100 birds with 110 shells the next morning. Not trying to brag here, just stating some facts.
Some guys are deliberate shots, some are instinctive. Morris Whitfield was an excellent, deliberate shot. Mike McGee was probably the best all around instinctive shot I have ever known. Any shotgun sport, McGee was right there with the best. I don't really consider myself in either of those categories.
I read a book entitled "The Orvis Wingshooting Guide". It was all about gun fit and proper stance. I fully support everything that book said. Probably the best I've ever seen those concepts put down on paper. When I am starting out a new shooter, I insist on them reading it.
I've read for years about different methods of shotgunning. Swinging from behind a bird, shooting as you pass the bird's head, and continuing your swing. I have read about 'snap shooting". Just raise your gun up to where you think the bird is going to be and pull the trigger. I have read about sustained lead. Nash Buckingham said he shot at a moving spot out in front of the bird. When I stop and think on it, shooting at that 'moving spot' probably best describes how I shoot. That is where the mental aspect of shotgunning really comes into play. Naturally, I still have to apply the basics: my gun fits me well. I have spent countless hours working on my footing, until it has become natural for me to assume a good shooting position. Whether in a blind, a boat, or in the marsh, my foot position doesn't change. I shoulder my gun properly, so that it becomes part of me. I don't just hold a shotgun to my shoulder, I embrace it. I grip the shotgun with my right hand so hard that my knuckles turn white, and I pull it back into my shoulder hard. Before I ever mount my gun, my body is focused on the bird I am going to shoot and all my training moves me to that target.
I wholeheartedly support the 'moving spot' theory over any other method of shotgunning. Think of all the factors involved: speed and distance of the bird, angle of flight of the bird, wind velocity and direction, and shot size and velocity of the shell you are using. All those factors dictate exactly where that moving spot should be for that particular shot. After enough practice it all comes naturally. A big Mallard sailing in on cupped wings has that moving spot right on his nose. A Bluebill passing downwind, outside the decoys, has a moving spot about the length of my shotgun out in front of him. With years of practice, it comes to me pretty much subconsciously. I see the bird I want to shoot and it just happens.
I love to teach new shooters, with all weapons. I am probably a better teacher and coach than I am shooter myself, well maybe not. My sons are as good as it gets with a shotgun. They had me to teach them and compete with. They listened and witnessed what was going on and both have learned very well. If they ever held a two man world championship of shotgunning, I would pay my sons' entry fee.
Everything about my sport is interesting and exciting. The ducks, the weather, the location, the decoys, the calling, and the dog work are all a big part of duck hunting. But when you add in some good wingshooting, that is when it all comes together.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
The Boat Ramp
I couldn't possibly remember or write about everything bizarre I've seen around boat ramps, but a few really were burned deeply into my memory banks.
Dad and I were launching the boat at Gabby Atchinson's ramp on Turkeyfoot Point one day when some guys showed up with a really big, fancy, floating blind. We launched and then got out of their way. They backed it off the trailer and it sunk immediately. Dad made some comment to one of the guys and he grinned and said "It looked good on paper."
One time we were launching at the ramp on Oyster Creek and some guy hunting by himself thought that the $5 he had paid was to buy the ramp, not just to launch there. He took forever. Trucks were backed up halfway to Lyle's. Whit made some comment to the guy and he went hustling down the bulkhead and stepped over into his boat. Well, he had intended to step into his boat, but missed it clean. Went in up to his neck. Funnier part of the story was, Whit was telling that story at a trap shoot once and some guy stepped up and said that wasn't funny, it was him, an acquaintance of Whitfield's that he hadn't recognized in the dark that morning.
Out at Rhodes Point we probably had more fun watching folks recover their boats than we did launching them. One guy had a big steel frame that attached into the receiver on his truck. It swiveled around and extended back to make sort of an addition to the bed of the pickup truck. I think that thing looked better on paper. He worked with it for 30 minutes trying to get it situated properly, then trying to pull the boat forward.
Even better was the guy who was trying to get a small jon boat into the bed of his truck. The boat was heavily loaded with decoys. The guy would lift the bow, push it into the truck until it was about halfway in then he would lift the stern and try to slide it in the rest of the way. Each time he got it started, he would hurry up to the front of the truck bed, but before he could grab and secure the boat, it would tip back out of the truck and slide back down into the water. After a full hour he unloaded 3 decoy bags and it went in perfectly.
2 couples came out one day in January and took an hour putting 2 kayaks in the water. Then they paddled through our decoys, not having a clue that we were in the blind watching the whole time. One couple even had some little tiny dog in their kayak with them, standing up on the bow barking. Sweet.
Saw some fellows with a really nice boat blind built on a V-hull boat trying to use the Rhodes Point ramp. The ramp has a huge hole in the center and it is easy to back a trailer wheel into it. These guys decided to pull way off to the side of the ramp. The trailer fell off the edge of the ramp and completely upset, capsizing the boat.
I already wrote about the guy with the ill-mannered Labrador. That was a real fiasco.
Another day at Rhodes Point, 3 generations of some sort of foreigner/red-neck cross family came out to try out their new speedboat that Grandma had purchased. They fell in the water, tore up the hull of the boat, got out in the river and tore up the motor. Really had themselves a time. When they finally got back to the ramp and got the boat on the trailer, they lifted Grandma into the boat and let her sit in it for a couple minutes. I guess that was to show their gratitude for buying them the boat.
The hardest I ever laughed was not really at a ramp, but in the little parking lot at Spring Creek. Kelly and I were there one morning waiting on the magic hour of 0500 so we could go into the impoundment. A couple other cars showed up and everyone was calmly putting on waders and discussing their plans for the hunt. In pulled a couple halfwits in a big hurry. They still had a half hour before we could enter the impoundment, but they were in a big hurry. One of them (the driver) even jumped out of the truck before it came to a complete stop and was trying to count how many of us were ahead of him. Each time he would struggle to count to 6 or 7 a new car would pull into the lot and he would curse and start his count over again. His partner hurried to back the truck up to the edge of the ditch that fed into the impoundment. They were going to launch their boat there and paddle along the outside edge of the impoundment until they got to their spot. Good plan, almost. He backed up too far and the boat and decoys all slid out of the back of the pickup and splashed into the ditch. He started hollering to is friend, the "counter", that he needed help. Needed help NOW! His buddy came over to try to help, but wasn't strong enough to be of any help. "Can't do it!" he cried. They kept the whole crowd of us in stitches. Some guys didn't even go into the impoundment at 0500 to claim a spot, they stayed to watch the circus act in the parking lot.
I've seen people launch and forget to hold onto the bow rope (my own sons). I've seen guys walk around behind their trailer at Rhodes Point and find that big hole in the ramp, McGee for one. The other guy was in a group of 3 hunters that somehow thought they were superior hunters. Launched and hunted a pitiful location for a hour. Everybody else on the New River was getting shooting but them, so they quit. When they got to the ramp one of them went up the hill to get the truck and one walked down to our blind to ask me what was going on. He bragged about all the places they had been hunting for the past week and not killing anything. Pointed out flocks of ducks that were flying by my decoys while he was there bothering me and finally looked back at his partners who were trying to get the boat on the trailer. One had stayed in the truck and the other had fallen in the hole in the ramp. He asked me if I could see his buddies down there. I told him I couldn't see them, but that I did see a hat floating behind the boat. He hurried away to try to help.
So, if you are ever bored and there is a boat ramp nearby, head down there with your video camera. You might win a contest on TV for your efforts.
Dad and I were launching the boat at Gabby Atchinson's ramp on Turkeyfoot Point one day when some guys showed up with a really big, fancy, floating blind. We launched and then got out of their way. They backed it off the trailer and it sunk immediately. Dad made some comment to one of the guys and he grinned and said "It looked good on paper."
One time we were launching at the ramp on Oyster Creek and some guy hunting by himself thought that the $5 he had paid was to buy the ramp, not just to launch there. He took forever. Trucks were backed up halfway to Lyle's. Whit made some comment to the guy and he went hustling down the bulkhead and stepped over into his boat. Well, he had intended to step into his boat, but missed it clean. Went in up to his neck. Funnier part of the story was, Whit was telling that story at a trap shoot once and some guy stepped up and said that wasn't funny, it was him, an acquaintance of Whitfield's that he hadn't recognized in the dark that morning.
Out at Rhodes Point we probably had more fun watching folks recover their boats than we did launching them. One guy had a big steel frame that attached into the receiver on his truck. It swiveled around and extended back to make sort of an addition to the bed of the pickup truck. I think that thing looked better on paper. He worked with it for 30 minutes trying to get it situated properly, then trying to pull the boat forward.
Even better was the guy who was trying to get a small jon boat into the bed of his truck. The boat was heavily loaded with decoys. The guy would lift the bow, push it into the truck until it was about halfway in then he would lift the stern and try to slide it in the rest of the way. Each time he got it started, he would hurry up to the front of the truck bed, but before he could grab and secure the boat, it would tip back out of the truck and slide back down into the water. After a full hour he unloaded 3 decoy bags and it went in perfectly.
2 couples came out one day in January and took an hour putting 2 kayaks in the water. Then they paddled through our decoys, not having a clue that we were in the blind watching the whole time. One couple even had some little tiny dog in their kayak with them, standing up on the bow barking. Sweet.
Saw some fellows with a really nice boat blind built on a V-hull boat trying to use the Rhodes Point ramp. The ramp has a huge hole in the center and it is easy to back a trailer wheel into it. These guys decided to pull way off to the side of the ramp. The trailer fell off the edge of the ramp and completely upset, capsizing the boat.
I already wrote about the guy with the ill-mannered Labrador. That was a real fiasco.
Another day at Rhodes Point, 3 generations of some sort of foreigner/red-neck cross family came out to try out their new speedboat that Grandma had purchased. They fell in the water, tore up the hull of the boat, got out in the river and tore up the motor. Really had themselves a time. When they finally got back to the ramp and got the boat on the trailer, they lifted Grandma into the boat and let her sit in it for a couple minutes. I guess that was to show their gratitude for buying them the boat.
The hardest I ever laughed was not really at a ramp, but in the little parking lot at Spring Creek. Kelly and I were there one morning waiting on the magic hour of 0500 so we could go into the impoundment. A couple other cars showed up and everyone was calmly putting on waders and discussing their plans for the hunt. In pulled a couple halfwits in a big hurry. They still had a half hour before we could enter the impoundment, but they were in a big hurry. One of them (the driver) even jumped out of the truck before it came to a complete stop and was trying to count how many of us were ahead of him. Each time he would struggle to count to 6 or 7 a new car would pull into the lot and he would curse and start his count over again. His partner hurried to back the truck up to the edge of the ditch that fed into the impoundment. They were going to launch their boat there and paddle along the outside edge of the impoundment until they got to their spot. Good plan, almost. He backed up too far and the boat and decoys all slid out of the back of the pickup and splashed into the ditch. He started hollering to is friend, the "counter", that he needed help. Needed help NOW! His buddy came over to try to help, but wasn't strong enough to be of any help. "Can't do it!" he cried. They kept the whole crowd of us in stitches. Some guys didn't even go into the impoundment at 0500 to claim a spot, they stayed to watch the circus act in the parking lot.
I've seen people launch and forget to hold onto the bow rope (my own sons). I've seen guys walk around behind their trailer at Rhodes Point and find that big hole in the ramp, McGee for one. The other guy was in a group of 3 hunters that somehow thought they were superior hunters. Launched and hunted a pitiful location for a hour. Everybody else on the New River was getting shooting but them, so they quit. When they got to the ramp one of them went up the hill to get the truck and one walked down to our blind to ask me what was going on. He bragged about all the places they had been hunting for the past week and not killing anything. Pointed out flocks of ducks that were flying by my decoys while he was there bothering me and finally looked back at his partners who were trying to get the boat on the trailer. One had stayed in the truck and the other had fallen in the hole in the ramp. He asked me if I could see his buddies down there. I told him I couldn't see them, but that I did see a hat floating behind the boat. He hurried away to try to help.
So, if you are ever bored and there is a boat ramp nearby, head down there with your video camera. You might win a contest on TV for your efforts.
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