Tuesday, August 18, 2015

A Fantastic Hunt, but Nearly Our Last!

I remember as a young man listening to the more mature hunters talk about duck hunts of old. It was awesome. As the grizzled hunter would stare off into space as if in a trance, I wondered if he was remembering things the way they were or the way he wished they were. Of course I will never know, but it really did not matter. It was the passion that shined through the story and clung to the tattered hunting coat and brown duck cap that made the tale come alive.
I am not yet collecting social security, but I have had more seasons in the old duck boat than I have left on this earth. However, I have had some fantastic hunts, and I have had some hair raising experiences. On one particular day, my duck partners and I had both.

It was late December on a bitter cold morning and I was home from school on Christmas break. I was drinking hot chocolate with my brother while trying to find something good on TV. I remember thinking, wow it looks cold and nasty out there, I am glad to be inside! Just then, the phone rang. It was my college roommate, Larry. He got right to the point, “Dad is down at the garage (by the lake). He said it sounds like World War III out at the break wall! They must be tearing ‘em up! Get your butt up here we are going out!” (He was referring to the break wall at Edgewater Park, Cleveland.) “This late? We won’t get out until 1:00 and it gets dark at 5:00!” “Dad said it won’t matter! You comin’ or what?” was the last thing he said. I told him I’d be there in 1 hour and 15 minutes. Having been a Boy Scout comes in handy! I had all of my gear packed and waiting in the basement. I asked my brother if he could handle being alone by himself. He his reply was something about how many cookies and how much pop was on hand. I gave him my reply as I ran out the door with two bags and my brand new model 1100 Remington.

The drive seemed like it took forever! “Tearin’ ‘em up”, he said, “World War III”. I tried not to get too excited because we have all experienced the anticipated slaughter which became an attack on all the sandwiches and snacks we brought. 

Larry and his Dad were pulling the boat out of the garage using a company dump truck when I pulled in. The garage was on the end of an access or canal that was connected to the Cuyahoga River.  From the river, it was a short run to the lake.

“I have to change yet!” I yelled as I got out of the car. “Get movin’ man. We‘ve got ducks to kill!” Larry’s dad said with a chuckle. I made a bee line for the door. I could not believe how much more snow they had than we did in North Canton. It was cold, but at least there was a south wind. Those cold north winds can make your bones shiver! I wasted no time getting my long johns and wool socks on in  preparation for the frigid winter air on Lake Erie. It was cold enough that I couldn’t smell the pungent odor of the Cuyahoga River. That’s odd, I thought. When I got up beside my partners in crime, they were frantically putting blue bill (scaup) decoys in the boat and untangling lines. Al, Larry’s dad, was barking out orders, “Bill get over here and help me with this line. Larry, get that extra bag of shotgun shells out of my truck, and then get the extra gas can out of the garage.” Al, had just filled the tank for the small outboard. We bought that boat from some guy who needed the money. It was a 16’ aluminum boat with a covered bow and a wind shield. We felt better about having a deeper boat for Lake Erie, and retiring the 14 footer. It can get rough quickly, even inside the break wall. Larry joined us as we got the anchor and lines ready for the deep water rig. We used one large boat anchor and ran two 15 decoy lines off of a two foot steel spreader to create a “V” shaped decoy spread. We placed our singles at the point of the “V”. Al handed Larry a sledge hammer and told him to ride on the bow. I found out why I could not smell the water, it was frozen! Larry pounded away as we carefully motored out the slip. I looked up to see that the river was frozen as well. My heart sank, but SUDDENLY, as if by a miracle, a tug boat punched its way through the ice in front of us! The two men in the back were waving for us to follow them! We let out a big cheer and away we went! The tug boat blasted its way through the ice ahead of us. What luck….or providence!

The tug turned right and we saw ice everywhere! The lake was all frozen inside the wall. Outside the wall it was frozen for a half of a mile. The only open water was where the barges passed through the opening in the break wall. Because we had a south wind, the ice flows were moving out slowly toward the main lake. I could see that there was no way to sit on the wall itself. Al informed us that the plan would be to put the decoy spread in the only open water and run the boat into the ice to secure it in place. We went to work immediately setting the lines. We had worked this rig enough that we were pretty good at it. I took my glove off for an instant, bad idea! My fingers went numb, glove back on. As we finished our spread I looked up and saw the biggest swarm of ducks that I had ever seen, all scaup. They were coming in like a hurricane as Al drove the boat into the ice. Larry and I already had our guns loaded. The eldest of our crew advised, “Pick out ONE bird! Don’t shoot into the flock!” I picked out a bird and squeezed the trigger. To my amazement two birds fell! They were so thick that I hit two with one shot! However, to my dismay, my 1100 froze. I had a single shot. Larry had an advantage over us with his Browning double barrel. Two shots from him and two birds down. Five birds on the water total. Another flock descended. I missed, Larry dropped one at twenty yards and now Al’s gun was a single shot. Two more birds lay in the water. I worked in vain to get my semi auto to work properly. I lined up seven shells on the seat in front of me, planning to load faster. I looked up in time to see a “small” flock of 30 birds cupped into the wind. Two rapid fire blasts immediately sounded as two birds joined the dekes in the ice cold water of Lake Erie. I shouldered my gun and crumbled one at ten yards! “Yeah!” Al yelled! I reached down to grab a shell, but there were only five. I scooped up one only to see my roommate help himself to two of the remaining four shells. “Hey!” I yelled, “Slow down. You’re closing in on your limit!” I put four more shells out for “us”. Suddenly I feel a burning on my leg. I looked down and there was gasoline spraying out of the fuel line all over my pant leg. I yelled, “We have a leak in the fuel line. It squirted gas all over my leg. What do I do?” Al’s reply seemed unconcerned, “Wrap something around it, and move your leg!” “Bang”, he shot another duck. He turned to Larry and said, where is that other bag of shells that I told you to put in the boat?” Larry looked stunned, “Oops!” I quickly grabbed the five remaining shells off the seat. “I don’t believe it!” Larry looked at me in disgust. Al and I quickly finished our limits while Larry watched. He already had his limit. It was perfect timing. I wrapped a rag around the fuel line, which slowed down the leak.
After the high fives went around the boat, we went out to retrieve and count our birds. Three limits in less than thirty minutes! Unreal! As we were scooping up ducks we failed to notice the wind shift. It switched from south to north. The shift pushed an ice flow into our spread, and made an awful mess of our lines. Then it happened, the motor sputtered and stopped. Al turned the crank, “We must be out of gas. Larry, where is that gas can I told you to put in the boat?” “What gas can?” my shell stealing friend replied. He followed that up with, “Well at least the wind will blow us in instead of out.” His dad said, “Oh man. We have to hurry.” I did not see the urgency right away, but eventually I saw what Al knew was coming. The ice flows were coming, and they blocked our path to shore.
Without panic, Al picked up a paddle and two poles from the bottom of the boat, and explained the plan. “We have to pole our way between the ice flows and hope that none of them get under the boat and tip us over.” He didn’t have to say it. We knew that if the boat tipped over, we were goners! So we poled ice flows for five hours! Three times ice flows got under the boat and each time we dodged the bullet. Finally, we made our way to the pier. There was a rail from an abandoned railway exposed above the rocks. I reached up and pulled myself up like I weighed two pounds. Larry and I were never so glad to stand on dry ground! We hiked backed to the garage, called Larry’s mother, and grabbed that gas can Larry was supposed to get ten hours ago!  It was a fantastic hunt, but it could have been our last!