Stolen Hunt

Years ago I read a book entitled "Last Casts and Stolen Hunts".  It was an OK book.

Didn't really think on the title too much until a few years later when I stole a hunt.  Kelly Murphy and I were on a 10 day hunt up in Lowland on the Pamlico Sound.  On certain days of the week we were allowed to hunt in the state Gameland Impoundments for puddleducks.  The rest of the time we hunted out on the open water.

One day in particular we were heading out to shoot Scoters, right at the mouth of the Pamlico River, where it opens up into the Sound.  If you aren't familiar with that area, the River runs Southeast into the Sound.  The last several miles of the River are a really straight line, NW-SE.  So when the wind comes up Northwest, combine that with the natural flow of the current in the River and it gets pretty nasty, pretty quick.

So anyhow, that day the forecast was for SW winds 8-10 knots, turning W mid-morning then eventually NW in early afternoon, and building to 20-25.  I knew before we headed out that the Scoter would move between 0730 and 1030, so we would safely be off the water before that wind turned and came up strong.  No problem.

Well, the wind was almost West by the time we got on the water, but NOAA still didn't call for the big change until early afternoon.  So I thought we'd be OK, but I knew to keep an eye on the weather.  The Scoters cooperated pretty well.  We had a fine shoot that lasted about 2 hours until we had our limit.  We were just starting to bag up our guns and close up the gunning boxes when I noticed the decoys turning a little farther to the NW.  I told Kelly we should get our rig in and get out of there as quickly as we could because the weather was changing a little sooner than the weatherman had called for.

By the time we gathered up our 25 decoys we had waves breaking over the bow of my Herter's Model Yukon.  We headed for Oyster Creek, keeping the boat quartering into the 3-4 foot waves.  Only took 10 minutes to make the lee of Cedar Island and then we were in a lot calmer water for the rest of the ride into the landing.

By the time we got to the landing, probably 40 minutes from when we fired our last shot, the wind was up to 30 knots and building.  I was very happy to be standing beside the boat ramp and not out there fighting that mess.

We shot well that morning and Cain worked well so we had made good time on our hunt.  We've picked up enough decoys to be fast and efficient at that as well.  Good thing.  The way the weather changed, even 5 minutes later and we could have been in a real mess.

The title of that book came back to me then, and I told Kelly we had just stolen a hunt.

Disappointment

Duck hunting has turned into something I never wanted. I look forward to duck season, but then, when it arrives it is too full of disappointment. Bad weather days that prevent you from hunting. Crowds. Poor sportsmanship. Lack of birds. Low limits. Totally wrong weather forecasts that convince you not to hunt. Why even bother?

It is just about to the point when this 50 year veteran of waterfowling is going to quit. Just too much disappointment to outweigh the enjoyment.

Nacoma's Chief

Way back in the 1960's, when I was a young teenager, a friend of my Father gave me a Lab puppy for helping him train his dog. I read a book on how to train a retriever (appropriately titled - Training Your Retriever, by James Lamb Free). That did help me learn the basic steps of dog training. I think Chief should have read the book himself, he was a little smarter than me and could probably have made better use of the book. But anyhow, we made it through the first summer and were ready for duck season.

He was even more ready than I realized. From the first bird he ever saw fall, until the very end of his 13 year hunting career, he was all I could ask for. Big and strong. Loyal, playful, smart. We were best of buddies. We both suffered when I went into the service, but he welcomed me home for each hunting season with a big smile and a wagging tail.

He was a fast swimmer, both on top of the water and under the water. I saw him dive on more cripples than any other dog I've hunted over. Once he got after a bird, he NEVER quit.

Every time I see a big rangy Black Lab, I think of Chief. I'll miss him always.