When you are hunting puddleducks, you can find places where a late afternoon hunt can be spectacular. I have hunted many an afternoon on Hermit Island. About an hour before quitting time the Mallards, Wood Ducks and Teal head for Blackbird Basin and you can have some great times.
I can remember back in the 80's when we used to hunt the Goose Creek Impoundment quite a bit. Shooting was always red hot the first hour. Sky-busting was also at it's zenith, unfortunately. Later in the morning things would even out, most of the skunk hunters would head for Sally's and you could enjoy good steady shooting. But in the afternoon, the Pintails would decoy like I've never seen them. Many times you could go out on the open water and shoot divers and seaducks till noon, and then have plenty of time to get a limit of Pintails on the Impoundment. Even when they shortened the shooting hours, 1200-1300 was as good as it gets for the Pintails.
Diver shooting in the afternoon has been fairly weak over the years for me. Until about 10 years ago. When we moved further down the New River we started getting fantastic late afternoon Bluebill shoots. Our blind at Rhodes Point faces East, so in the late afternoon the sun is going down over your right shoulder and the lower it gets on the horizon, the more spectacular the birds look. The patch of white on the hens' faces looks so big. The bright blue of the bills and those bright yellow eyes look big as quarters. That soft, setting sun, the wind laying down as it frequently does towards sundown, and the Bluebills coming in flocks of 10-1000 makes for about the finest duck shooting I've seen in my life. When the wind dies down and the waves quit breaking on the shore, the sound of the wind in 50 Bluebill wings, when they turn on your blocks, is fantastic. The birds are looking for someplace quiet and peaceful to spend the evening and once they start heading into the bay just south of us, there seems to be no stopping them.
Kelly shot a video one evening and in 10 minutes of video we had 10,000 birds on film. We actually watched it in super slow motion and tried our best to count the birds. They were all passing within 25-75 yards or our blind. One of the most amazing things you'll ever see.
When we would finish shooting and get out in the River to start taking in decoys, the birds wouldn't stop. Flock after flock still landing in our ever shrinking spread. They would be between us on the water. Between us and the blind, between us and the dog. Unbelievable.
There were slow days on the River when I sat in the blind from 0600 till 1630 and never fired a shot. Then in the last 30 minutes you would truly have your gun barrel too hot to touch. Knowing that an evening like that was coming our way made the long days in the blind easy to handle. Nap, snack, nap, snack, shoot an occasional stray duck, and bide your time till the Evening Flight.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Game Wardens
I don't expect anybody but myself to be perfect. But, there are certain expectations when it comes to law enforcement personnel. The following stories briefly tell of a few Game Wardens that didn't quite make the grade. But they also relate stories about a few Game Wardens that were nice guys first and law enforcers second.
Game warden ticketed McGee for hunting over corn at Hospital Point. Took his gun away from him, claiming that McGee was threatening. McGee had to deploy so he called the court and mailed in his fine. Warden never returned his gun. I went to the warden's house and took the gun and he threatened to shoot me. Went on to become Game Warden of the Year and got promoted to Sergeant.
A game warden looked over a blind we had on the Pamlico River, adjacent to the State Game Lands and informed us that we were "barely legal". Whit asked him if that was similar to being "sort of pregnant". He hounded us for several years after that.
Game warden in Pamlico County got his head caved in by a poacher. Truly a bad deal. His replacement came up to our blind the following year and told us he was just a couple years away from retirement and that he hoped we could get along. Never checked us in any way. Stopped by to get a cup of coffee each day he saw us hunting, but never bothered us. He is still enjoying his retirement.
Game warden stopped 3 of us coming out of the Goose Creek Impoundment one day and told us not to move or speak. Pretty bold order. The other 2 hunters pretty much did as he said and I ignored him completely. When he came to check me he threatened around a little and I offered him my wrists. He knew the law, just tried to bluff and bully people.
Had a game warden ask to check my Dad's double barrel shotgun, to see if it would hold more than 3 shells.
Had a game warden try to lick my duck stamp, to stick it to my license.
Had a game warden try to wade in 5 feet of water in hip boots. More than once.
Had a game warden run his boat ashore on the New River and had to come and ask for help to get off the rocky beach. Then came to the blind and gave me grief because we were putting all our birds on one duck strap and couldn't prove who had killed each of them.
Had a game warden make large, circling passes in his big Parker boat, out at the mouth of the Pamlico River, to move some birds around for us. He also got a hot cup of coffee whenever he stopped by.
Had a game warden mysteriously find corn near every blind on the New River. Ticketed every hunter on the river all Winter. When I asked him if there was any place left that I could hunt without getting a ticket he told me to try any place I wanted and he'd find corn there. Went on to be Game Warden of the Year, wait I already mentioned that.
Had a huge task force of game wardens come to Pamlico Point the last day of the season for several years. One checked us, that didn't even know what the species of birds were. He said he was from the mountains and just worked on bear poachers for 25 years. He drank some coffee and left.
Game warden ticketed McGee for hunting over corn at Hospital Point. Took his gun away from him, claiming that McGee was threatening. McGee had to deploy so he called the court and mailed in his fine. Warden never returned his gun. I went to the warden's house and took the gun and he threatened to shoot me. Went on to become Game Warden of the Year and got promoted to Sergeant.
A game warden looked over a blind we had on the Pamlico River, adjacent to the State Game Lands and informed us that we were "barely legal". Whit asked him if that was similar to being "sort of pregnant". He hounded us for several years after that.
Game warden in Pamlico County got his head caved in by a poacher. Truly a bad deal. His replacement came up to our blind the following year and told us he was just a couple years away from retirement and that he hoped we could get along. Never checked us in any way. Stopped by to get a cup of coffee each day he saw us hunting, but never bothered us. He is still enjoying his retirement.
Game warden stopped 3 of us coming out of the Goose Creek Impoundment one day and told us not to move or speak. Pretty bold order. The other 2 hunters pretty much did as he said and I ignored him completely. When he came to check me he threatened around a little and I offered him my wrists. He knew the law, just tried to bluff and bully people.
Had a game warden ask to check my Dad's double barrel shotgun, to see if it would hold more than 3 shells.
Had a game warden try to lick my duck stamp, to stick it to my license.
Had a game warden try to wade in 5 feet of water in hip boots. More than once.
Had a game warden run his boat ashore on the New River and had to come and ask for help to get off the rocky beach. Then came to the blind and gave me grief because we were putting all our birds on one duck strap and couldn't prove who had killed each of them.
Had a game warden make large, circling passes in his big Parker boat, out at the mouth of the Pamlico River, to move some birds around for us. He also got a hot cup of coffee whenever he stopped by.
Had a game warden mysteriously find corn near every blind on the New River. Ticketed every hunter on the river all Winter. When I asked him if there was any place left that I could hunt without getting a ticket he told me to try any place I wanted and he'd find corn there. Went on to be Game Warden of the Year, wait I already mentioned that.
Had a huge task force of game wardens come to Pamlico Point the last day of the season for several years. One checked us, that didn't even know what the species of birds were. He said he was from the mountains and just worked on bear poachers for 25 years. He drank some coffee and left.
The Dropped Glove
Years ago, Mike McGee and I were hunting out of one of Whitfield's blinds on the Pamlico River. To prevent storm damage to the blinds he built, he only framed them in, then nailed a heavy fence wire on as the sides and floor. He tied grass to the sides and carried a couple pieces of plywood out hunting with him to throw down on the wire for someplace to stand.
Well, McGee and I didn't take any plywood, because we never knew which blind, or where we would be hunting. We just stood on the floor joists and tried not to fall through the wire floor.
Anyhow, this one particular day was cold and windy and miserable. A great duck day. We started shooting shortly after daylight and were killing Bluebills and Scoter in alarming numbers. I was doing something and took off one of my gloves and it dropped through the wire floor and fell into the water beneath the blind. It was the first Gortex-Thinsulate pair of gloves I was ever able to afford and I didn't want to lose it. I shouted for McGee (who was hunting on the end with the door) to please jump out real quick and retrieve my glove before it sank or floated away.
He hopped out and grabbed my glove. Before he could climb back into the blind, a flock of Bluebills came by and I killed a triple. He cussed me for half an hour over that. Pretty much in good fun, but I could tell he was a little upset. After a while, I saw another nice flock of 'Bills coming our way. I pulled off my other glove and threw it through the floor and hollered for him to grab it for me. He grinned and said sorry, then came up shooting.
I eventually rescued the glove and we both had a good laugh over it. I had some really cold, wet hands, but at the time it was a good joke.
Well, McGee and I didn't take any plywood, because we never knew which blind, or where we would be hunting. We just stood on the floor joists and tried not to fall through the wire floor.
Anyhow, this one particular day was cold and windy and miserable. A great duck day. We started shooting shortly after daylight and were killing Bluebills and Scoter in alarming numbers. I was doing something and took off one of my gloves and it dropped through the wire floor and fell into the water beneath the blind. It was the first Gortex-Thinsulate pair of gloves I was ever able to afford and I didn't want to lose it. I shouted for McGee (who was hunting on the end with the door) to please jump out real quick and retrieve my glove before it sank or floated away.
He hopped out and grabbed my glove. Before he could climb back into the blind, a flock of Bluebills came by and I killed a triple. He cussed me for half an hour over that. Pretty much in good fun, but I could tell he was a little upset. After a while, I saw another nice flock of 'Bills coming our way. I pulled off my other glove and threw it through the floor and hollered for him to grab it for me. He grinned and said sorry, then came up shooting.
I eventually rescued the glove and we both had a good laugh over it. I had some really cold, wet hands, but at the time it was a good joke.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Getting Wet
Everybody that duck hunts gets wet periodically. Some more than others. Seems like I have been wet more than anybody I've ever hunted with. Partly due to my own clumsiness, partly due to always being in a hurry, but mostly due to me doing all the odd jobs. You know what I mean; breaking up ice in the decoys, putting the boat away, working the dog, putting out and adjusting decoys. Not that some of my hunting partners don't offer to help, it's just that I seem to always be the one who had the idea to do the odd jobs, so they sort of become my responsibility.
First time I ever had a scare while out duck hunting, I was out wading in Blackbird Basin shooting Teal. It was fairly shallow water, I was just wearing hip boots. I got a little too close to the edge of a dredged channel trying to pick up a dead bird and my feet just slipped off the edge of the foot and a half water into over-my-head deep water. I held my gun up above my head, but one foot get entangled in the roots of a tree that was submerged. My buddy came to try to help me, and he said I was under water for almost 2 minutes before he saw me come to the surface.
Another time at Indian Lake I was out in the decoys breaking up ice. A larger that I thought sheet of ice was coming at the decoys and I went out on the leading edge of the decoys and was breaking it into smaller pieces that would float on through the decoys. Well, it got too thick to break and it started pushing be backwards. I tripped over a snag and fell backwards and the ice floated over top of me while I was trying to get loose from the snag and get back up. I was barely able to catch the leading edge of the ice and with a mighty effort pulled myself up so I could get my head above water and held on till dad waded out and gave me a hand.
Whit got a good laugh one time when I went swimming at Spring Creek. We were walking opposite directions around the impoundment, jump shooting ducks. I saw 2 nice drake Wigeon sitting on a log and spent a few minutes sneaking up on them. When I got to the closest point I could reach, I took one step off the dike into the water and went in out of sight. Again, I kept my gun out of the water. But other than my hat floating off, I was pretty well drenched. I had managed to kill the 2 birds though. When I met back up with Whit he asked me what had happened and I just shook my head and asked if he had a dry cigarette. He was highly amused by the whole affair.
Out at our blind on Rhodes Point there is an old tree trunk under water about 20 yards out in the front of the blind. When the water is clear you can see it easily. In the dark, putting out decoys, I am always careful to wade out and find that log first thing and drop a decoy on it so I can avoid it. But every couple seasons I seem to forget about it when I am either rearranging decoys or out working the dog on multiple kills. Each time I get mad and everybody in the blind just cracks up laughing. Some day it will be their turn to spend the rest of the day cold and wet.
Back at Oldfield Island I had a disappointing fall one time. It was real cold and the little slip we had made to hide the boat was frozen over. First thing in the morning when I tried to put the boat away I slipped on the ice and slid down into the water. Filled my waders. Like I said it was really cold and I tried to hang tough, but after a couple hours I was really hurting. Dad ran me back to the cottage and I changed clothes and put on a different pair of waders. When we got back to the blind about 100 Mallards and 30 Canada Geese were sitting in our decoys. I was crushed. But I just couldn't have held out any longer without something freezing off. We killed a couple birds that day, but...
One time McGee and I got caught in a really freaky winter storm while we were hunting at Catfish Lake. By the time we got the decoys picked up we were both in water up to our chins. It was warm out at the time, but by the time we got home it was cold. When I pulled Mike from the seat of my Jeep it tore the vinyl seat. He was frozen completely to it. I'm pretty sure he never rode in my Jeep again after that day.
The last day Cain and I hunted in a beaver swamp I got wet. I had tied him to a tree to steady him and I had waded about 6 feet out from the tree to hide in a little bush. He got to whining and making a commotion before shooting time and I attempted to take a couple steps back towards him to clobber him. I had my gun slung over my shoulder (an important rule of wading is not to wade with your gun slung on your shoulder) slipped on a log below the surface and fell in and broke the stock out of my Benelli.
I know getting wet comes with duck hunting, but it always takes me by surprise when I mess up and fall in. But at least I always provide my hunting partners with a big laugh.
First time I ever had a scare while out duck hunting, I was out wading in Blackbird Basin shooting Teal. It was fairly shallow water, I was just wearing hip boots. I got a little too close to the edge of a dredged channel trying to pick up a dead bird and my feet just slipped off the edge of the foot and a half water into over-my-head deep water. I held my gun up above my head, but one foot get entangled in the roots of a tree that was submerged. My buddy came to try to help me, and he said I was under water for almost 2 minutes before he saw me come to the surface.
Another time at Indian Lake I was out in the decoys breaking up ice. A larger that I thought sheet of ice was coming at the decoys and I went out on the leading edge of the decoys and was breaking it into smaller pieces that would float on through the decoys. Well, it got too thick to break and it started pushing be backwards. I tripped over a snag and fell backwards and the ice floated over top of me while I was trying to get loose from the snag and get back up. I was barely able to catch the leading edge of the ice and with a mighty effort pulled myself up so I could get my head above water and held on till dad waded out and gave me a hand.
Whit got a good laugh one time when I went swimming at Spring Creek. We were walking opposite directions around the impoundment, jump shooting ducks. I saw 2 nice drake Wigeon sitting on a log and spent a few minutes sneaking up on them. When I got to the closest point I could reach, I took one step off the dike into the water and went in out of sight. Again, I kept my gun out of the water. But other than my hat floating off, I was pretty well drenched. I had managed to kill the 2 birds though. When I met back up with Whit he asked me what had happened and I just shook my head and asked if he had a dry cigarette. He was highly amused by the whole affair.
Out at our blind on Rhodes Point there is an old tree trunk under water about 20 yards out in the front of the blind. When the water is clear you can see it easily. In the dark, putting out decoys, I am always careful to wade out and find that log first thing and drop a decoy on it so I can avoid it. But every couple seasons I seem to forget about it when I am either rearranging decoys or out working the dog on multiple kills. Each time I get mad and everybody in the blind just cracks up laughing. Some day it will be their turn to spend the rest of the day cold and wet.
Back at Oldfield Island I had a disappointing fall one time. It was real cold and the little slip we had made to hide the boat was frozen over. First thing in the morning when I tried to put the boat away I slipped on the ice and slid down into the water. Filled my waders. Like I said it was really cold and I tried to hang tough, but after a couple hours I was really hurting. Dad ran me back to the cottage and I changed clothes and put on a different pair of waders. When we got back to the blind about 100 Mallards and 30 Canada Geese were sitting in our decoys. I was crushed. But I just couldn't have held out any longer without something freezing off. We killed a couple birds that day, but...
One time McGee and I got caught in a really freaky winter storm while we were hunting at Catfish Lake. By the time we got the decoys picked up we were both in water up to our chins. It was warm out at the time, but by the time we got home it was cold. When I pulled Mike from the seat of my Jeep it tore the vinyl seat. He was frozen completely to it. I'm pretty sure he never rode in my Jeep again after that day.
The last day Cain and I hunted in a beaver swamp I got wet. I had tied him to a tree to steady him and I had waded about 6 feet out from the tree to hide in a little bush. He got to whining and making a commotion before shooting time and I attempted to take a couple steps back towards him to clobber him. I had my gun slung over my shoulder (an important rule of wading is not to wade with your gun slung on your shoulder) slipped on a log below the surface and fell in and broke the stock out of my Benelli.
I know getting wet comes with duck hunting, but it always takes me by surprise when I mess up and fall in. But at least I always provide my hunting partners with a big laugh.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Layout Boat
I had heard of layout boats and seen pictures of them, but had never hunted from one. When I started hunting with Morris Whitfield I came to find out that he had a 2-man layout boat. He had hunted with a guide on Mitchell Bay and had a layout boat built by the guide after the season. Drove all the way up there to pick it up. Then when he got it back down here, most guys weren't interested in hunting from it for one reason or the other. I eventually bought the boat from Whit and never hunted from it. I gave it away a year or so ago with the deal that the new owner would invite me to hunt with him. I don't think he got around to hunting from it all season. The problem with that big layout boat was that you had to trailer it to wherever you were hunting, then tow it behind your boat. Very seldom do I have a big enough crowd of hunting partners to be able to do that. You also want your partners to be good enough sailors to operate the tender when you are in the layout boat. I don't often have that luxury. So I let it go in hopes that the new owner could get some use out of it and that maybe I'd get a chance to hunt it again. But the few times I hunted from the boat with Whitfield it was a killing machine.
We shot Scoter from it for a couple seasons. Scoter aren't all that bright in the first place, and the layout boat almost made it a slaughter instead of a hunt. We used 26 inch barrels with Improved Cylinder chokes and still had to be careful not to shoot the birds up too badly. The ducks literally came within arms reach of the boat. We shot a limit every time we hunted it and with my Dad to run the tender it worked out great. Whit was left-handed so it made for a perfect shooting situation. We set the decoys in a teardrop pattern directly astern of the boat and each of us just shot on our side.
One day we had a bit of a fiasco. Steel shot had become mandatory and we were cheating a little. Anyhow, we were laying there in the boat when Dad radioed us and said a 'strange' boat was coming our way. Didn't look too strange to me, but Whit was always in a turmoil with the local Game Warden and he thought it was the "man" and told me to get rid of my lead shells. I had only taken a few lead reloads with me so it wasn't that big of a deal. Until, in the process of unloading my 870 I had a shell run back under the shell lifter and jam my whole gun. No way to get it out except to disassemble the gun. All you 870 shooters know what I'm talking about. I can take my 870 apart pretty quickly, but laying on your back in a pitching layout boat increases the difficulty level just a little. I got it cleared before the 'strange' boat got there. Whit didn't have any trouble getting rid of his lead shells. He pitched 4 full boxes of expensive shells over the side.
The 'strange' boat turned out to be a couple old fishermen who came to see what the strange looking boat we were in was all about. That made Whit so mad that he called for Dad to come pick him up and he chased the old men clear to Pamlico Point hollering and cursing at them. Sort of overkill. Old "poacher Whit" was just mad about throwing $50 worth of shells over the side.
I see little 1-man layout boats all the time now and the hunters seem to love them. I may hunt that way again someday, because it was fun. But all the work involved makes it a bit much when you have a nice big stake blind to hunt from.
We shot Scoter from it for a couple seasons. Scoter aren't all that bright in the first place, and the layout boat almost made it a slaughter instead of a hunt. We used 26 inch barrels with Improved Cylinder chokes and still had to be careful not to shoot the birds up too badly. The ducks literally came within arms reach of the boat. We shot a limit every time we hunted it and with my Dad to run the tender it worked out great. Whit was left-handed so it made for a perfect shooting situation. We set the decoys in a teardrop pattern directly astern of the boat and each of us just shot on our side.
One day we had a bit of a fiasco. Steel shot had become mandatory and we were cheating a little. Anyhow, we were laying there in the boat when Dad radioed us and said a 'strange' boat was coming our way. Didn't look too strange to me, but Whit was always in a turmoil with the local Game Warden and he thought it was the "man" and told me to get rid of my lead shells. I had only taken a few lead reloads with me so it wasn't that big of a deal. Until, in the process of unloading my 870 I had a shell run back under the shell lifter and jam my whole gun. No way to get it out except to disassemble the gun. All you 870 shooters know what I'm talking about. I can take my 870 apart pretty quickly, but laying on your back in a pitching layout boat increases the difficulty level just a little. I got it cleared before the 'strange' boat got there. Whit didn't have any trouble getting rid of his lead shells. He pitched 4 full boxes of expensive shells over the side.
The 'strange' boat turned out to be a couple old fishermen who came to see what the strange looking boat we were in was all about. That made Whit so mad that he called for Dad to come pick him up and he chased the old men clear to Pamlico Point hollering and cursing at them. Sort of overkill. Old "poacher Whit" was just mad about throwing $50 worth of shells over the side.
I see little 1-man layout boats all the time now and the hunters seem to love them. I may hunt that way again someday, because it was fun. But all the work involved makes it a bit much when you have a nice big stake blind to hunt from.
Picking Your Shots
I think I've already said that when I am duck hunting the drake is always on my side. Not that I hog my hunting partners' shots, but I have spent a good portion of my hunting with beginners. I love teaching youngsters and new hunters. When you have a new hunter with you and you get a chance at a nice drake, sometimes you have to claim it for yourself and let the newby try to get any duck that they can. Sometimes it is an old timer who maybe isn't quite the shot they used to be. I remember an occasion when I had to sort of take charge when I was hunting with my Dad.
I was on vacation and had no one else to hunt with except my Dad. Not that I didn't enjoy hunting with Dad, but he was getting old and couldn't really do much except barely climb in and out of the boat or the blind. Whatever, I was still fine with hunting with him. We caught some really bad luck on the weather. Had a full gale blowing for about 3-4 straight days. Really limited where we could hunt. Too rough to hunt the Pamlico Sound where we were doing most of our hunting those days. Dad couldn't wade in a marsh. So we were searching for someplace where we could get out of the wind and just hunt from the boat.
We decided to try the White Oak River one day. We hunted about halfway between Haywood Landing and Stella. Set up in the widest place in the river, right in the middle of a big bend. Pulled the boat up against the shore and put up a little boat blind that I had made. We saw a few Wood Ducks right at daylight and killed a couple. But didn't see anything then for a couple hours. Had a single Bluebill drake come by pretty far out and managed to cripple it. Took a half an hour to find it, but we eventually did. Dad wasn't shooting too good so far. We saw some Coot swim up in a little branch that ran off the river and Dad said he'd like to try to get them because he hadn't had any Coot gizzards in a while. I eased the boat up to where they had gone in and spied them on the water. Dad got in position as best he could and fired away. Never touched a feather. I killed a triple when they took off. I'm not bragging about that, just giving an account of the hunt :-)
Dad was a bit downcast at his poor shooting, but we kept hunting. A while later 3 Wigeon came up the river and right to the decoys. Dad was on the right and he shot the right hand bird. I shot the one in the middle then swung on the left hand bird and killed it. We were happy to have the 3 nice ducks down and sent Hoss to gather them up for us. Dad asked me what I was doing shooting the middle bird first? I told him that by doing that I was assured of getting a double because the last bird would be on my end. He thought it over for a minute and said that was sort of like cheating. I thought it over for a second and said it was sort of like being smart.
I was on vacation and had no one else to hunt with except my Dad. Not that I didn't enjoy hunting with Dad, but he was getting old and couldn't really do much except barely climb in and out of the boat or the blind. Whatever, I was still fine with hunting with him. We caught some really bad luck on the weather. Had a full gale blowing for about 3-4 straight days. Really limited where we could hunt. Too rough to hunt the Pamlico Sound where we were doing most of our hunting those days. Dad couldn't wade in a marsh. So we were searching for someplace where we could get out of the wind and just hunt from the boat.
We decided to try the White Oak River one day. We hunted about halfway between Haywood Landing and Stella. Set up in the widest place in the river, right in the middle of a big bend. Pulled the boat up against the shore and put up a little boat blind that I had made. We saw a few Wood Ducks right at daylight and killed a couple. But didn't see anything then for a couple hours. Had a single Bluebill drake come by pretty far out and managed to cripple it. Took a half an hour to find it, but we eventually did. Dad wasn't shooting too good so far. We saw some Coot swim up in a little branch that ran off the river and Dad said he'd like to try to get them because he hadn't had any Coot gizzards in a while. I eased the boat up to where they had gone in and spied them on the water. Dad got in position as best he could and fired away. Never touched a feather. I killed a triple when they took off. I'm not bragging about that, just giving an account of the hunt :-)
Dad was a bit downcast at his poor shooting, but we kept hunting. A while later 3 Wigeon came up the river and right to the decoys. Dad was on the right and he shot the right hand bird. I shot the one in the middle then swung on the left hand bird and killed it. We were happy to have the 3 nice ducks down and sent Hoss to gather them up for us. Dad asked me what I was doing shooting the middle bird first? I told him that by doing that I was assured of getting a double because the last bird would be on my end. He thought it over for a minute and said that was sort of like cheating. I thought it over for a second and said it was sort of like being smart.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Fog
I hate the fog. Only one in a hundred foggy days have ever produced any ducks in my hunting experience. Fog has created some interesting situations for me over the years, mostly bad, but nothing terrible.
Dad and I launched at Gabby Atchinson's ramp one morning in the fog and headed for Walnut Island. We got our bearings (no compass of course) and Dad said he would face backwards in the boat and try to hold a perfectly straight course from watching the wake. I thought I could see a light out on the point of Walnut Island, so I was trying to stare at that. Well pretty soon I told Dad he needed to make a course correction. Then in a couple minutes another one. Pretty soon I could see that light real well and I knew we were home free. About then we hit the bank right next to Atchinson's. I had watched first one light then another and ended up heading right for the light on the boat ramp that we started from.
One morning we just ran out the Turkeyfoot Channel to the Mouth of the Channel Blind. We set up in terrible fog and got no shooting for a couple hours. Then suddenly a duck appeared. We shot it and were at least not "skunked". Pretty soon another duck came, then another, and so on. Before long we had a whole string of ducks that had all sailed right into the decoys out of thick fog. So sometimes fog is good!
Another day at Indian Lake I was hunting by myself during Teal Season and decided to try to run from Cree Park to Long Pond in the fog. Hard enough to make that run in broad daylight. But I made it. To this day I have no idea how I got there, other than dumb luck.
I floated down the Husitonic River in Connecticut one day in a canoe in the fog. One of my more mindless ideas. After giving up on being found alive, I saw a buoy in the creek and stopped and got my bearings. Paddled toward where I thought the shore would be and came to a boat ramp. 2 Black ducks were sitting on the bulkhead along the ramp and I shot them before they could even get their wings spread.
McGee and I went out into the Pamlico Sound one morning to hunt Scoter. After we were already set up the fog rolled in on us. We shot a few ducks and Hoss retrieved them, but once he went out of sight in the fog and I got a little concerned. He could apparently hear me whistle though, because he had no trouble finding his way back. We started getting concerned about noon when the fog hadn't lightened up all. We couldn't see the shore, had no compass, and not a clue how we would get back. We had sense enough to just stay anchored and eventually the fog lifted in mid-afternoon and we left in a hurry.
Out at Hospital Point we had a pair of Eider pass us wide one morning in the fog. They were heading up the river and a little while later we heard a splash and some whistling and eventually caught a couple glimpses of them out of gun range. When the fog cleared they were gone. We were crushed.
One morning at Rhodes Point, Kelly and I were hunting in the fog. All of a sudden a big duck appeared over our heads, coming from behind. I told Kelly not to shoot because it was a Black Duck, and the season was closed. Then I caught a glimpse of it's head and shot it. I had recognized the telltale shape of a Canvasback. What it had been doing back behind our blind over the pine forest I'll never know. Kelly still hasn't killed a Can and still holds a grudge for me mis-identifying that duck. Oh well.
I have seen it many times when their are plenty of ducks around, they just don't act right when there is fog. Even if the fog burns off shortly after sunrise, it seems the day is generally ruined if there was fog first thing in the morning.
Dad and I launched at Gabby Atchinson's ramp one morning in the fog and headed for Walnut Island. We got our bearings (no compass of course) and Dad said he would face backwards in the boat and try to hold a perfectly straight course from watching the wake. I thought I could see a light out on the point of Walnut Island, so I was trying to stare at that. Well pretty soon I told Dad he needed to make a course correction. Then in a couple minutes another one. Pretty soon I could see that light real well and I knew we were home free. About then we hit the bank right next to Atchinson's. I had watched first one light then another and ended up heading right for the light on the boat ramp that we started from.
One morning we just ran out the Turkeyfoot Channel to the Mouth of the Channel Blind. We set up in terrible fog and got no shooting for a couple hours. Then suddenly a duck appeared. We shot it and were at least not "skunked". Pretty soon another duck came, then another, and so on. Before long we had a whole string of ducks that had all sailed right into the decoys out of thick fog. So sometimes fog is good!
Another day at Indian Lake I was hunting by myself during Teal Season and decided to try to run from Cree Park to Long Pond in the fog. Hard enough to make that run in broad daylight. But I made it. To this day I have no idea how I got there, other than dumb luck.
I floated down the Husitonic River in Connecticut one day in a canoe in the fog. One of my more mindless ideas. After giving up on being found alive, I saw a buoy in the creek and stopped and got my bearings. Paddled toward where I thought the shore would be and came to a boat ramp. 2 Black ducks were sitting on the bulkhead along the ramp and I shot them before they could even get their wings spread.
McGee and I went out into the Pamlico Sound one morning to hunt Scoter. After we were already set up the fog rolled in on us. We shot a few ducks and Hoss retrieved them, but once he went out of sight in the fog and I got a little concerned. He could apparently hear me whistle though, because he had no trouble finding his way back. We started getting concerned about noon when the fog hadn't lightened up all. We couldn't see the shore, had no compass, and not a clue how we would get back. We had sense enough to just stay anchored and eventually the fog lifted in mid-afternoon and we left in a hurry.
Out at Hospital Point we had a pair of Eider pass us wide one morning in the fog. They were heading up the river and a little while later we heard a splash and some whistling and eventually caught a couple glimpses of them out of gun range. When the fog cleared they were gone. We were crushed.
One morning at Rhodes Point, Kelly and I were hunting in the fog. All of a sudden a big duck appeared over our heads, coming from behind. I told Kelly not to shoot because it was a Black Duck, and the season was closed. Then I caught a glimpse of it's head and shot it. I had recognized the telltale shape of a Canvasback. What it had been doing back behind our blind over the pine forest I'll never know. Kelly still hasn't killed a Can and still holds a grudge for me mis-identifying that duck. Oh well.
I have seen it many times when their are plenty of ducks around, they just don't act right when there is fog. Even if the fog burns off shortly after sunrise, it seems the day is generally ruined if there was fog first thing in the morning.
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