Campfires, So Many Memories!

Gunner and I lay by the warm fireplace while the boy scouts and webelos are outside earning their Polar Bear badge. Watching the flames dance around the wood as if a swift and graceful flock of quail erupting from a bush brings warmth and light to an otherwise dark and cold cabin. The flames and the smell of burning pine and oak flood my mind with fond memories of campfires gone by.

Scouting trips were so special to me in my youth. We always had a fire. I remember on the Klondike Derby weekend it was so cold that the fire was everyone's best friend. I nearly caught my gloves on fire one evening with my hands still in them! Church youth group ski trips had special fireplace memories. Our group had cabins in the woods with a fire going every evening. We sang, ate, drank hot chocolate, and snuggled up to a young lady friend. (Supervised of course). Those campfires were more about scouting for girls, or was it hunting them?

I recall hunting trips in my early twenties with awesome fireplaces and outdoor campfires! Larry, his Dad and I had annual goose hunts near Mosquito Refuge that were amazing! There was always a camp fire which moved indoors. The fire provided warmth and serenity capping off a day filled with work, excitement and adrenaline. I remember those days like it was yesterday. I shot my first goose on Mosquito Reservoir from a blind I drew on a point on the West Bank. That bird was so far that I lead if by 10 feet. There were four of us hunting, and I wasn't sure if I was the one who shot it. I asked Larry as we motored out to retrieve it. He answered with a question, "You don't see anyone else going out here to get this bird do ya?" I was the first one in our group to have ever killed a goose! Today if is quite common place, but back then it was a rare treat in Ohio. The next year we were filling our one bird limit regularly. The camping trips at one hunting spot were classic good times.We would sit around the fire drinking coffee and listen to Larry;s Dad share about how good duck hunting used to be back in the day. On one particular night he told us a hair raising story about his experience in the Pacific during WWII. Our camping was in a cabin, but why not?

My wife and I used to go camping at nearby state parks before the children came along. We had some very special campfires in those years. Some of those were very romantic, but one we remember and still laugh about was highlighted by some hippies playing Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" so loud you would like you were at a concert. It was humorous until 2:00 AM! The light from the fire went out, but Pink Floyd rocked on!

There is something magical about the light, yes, but there is something especially relaxing about being hot on one side (nearest the fire) and cool or cold on the other. I will not argue about yours truly being a bit strange, but I believe memories have much to do with that response. I remover vividly sitting in the living room at my grandfather's farm with coal stove stoked up hot! It was like sitting next to the sun while standing next to a refrigerator! A slight exaggeration perhaps, but there was no place I'd rather have been. My grandparents were the sweetest folks you would ever want to meet, and we didn't get to visit often. There were three coal stoves to heat 5 rooms, and the wood burning "cook stove" heated the kitchen and dining room. I tell you the truth, the food my grandmother cooked on that stove was fit for a king! Wow could she cook!

I usually don't cook from a wood burning stove these days, even when camping. The most note-worthy wood fire feast was at deer camp a few years back. It was Muzzle loaded season. We had 27 guys running drives up and down "hollers" trying to get a deer. There was one deer killed and it was mine. The guys acted like I just hit the game winning home run. I soon found out why. The metal tag was barely fastened when the boys had that deer skinned out and on the cooker. We had 20 pounds of potatoes on Bull's hog roaster, an entire deer, a cabbage wrapped in foil, and deer wraps. I wrapped bacon around a thin strip of deer steak with jalapeño pepper and cream cheese. I put those on the cooker and we had a party. I invited my wife and son, and people from all around. What fun that was! How do you think that day ended? You guessed it, with good friends around soothing campfire.

The soothing campfire has been appreciated in an annual camping trip that we take with my sister and her husband and my daughter, Laura. Last year we added a new member to our trip, Michael. He is now a permanent fixture on the camp out as my son-in-law. Arriving in the afternoon, and getting camp set up is a lot of work, especially when you are tent camping! Every year we set up with the eager expectation of sitting around the campfire eating steak! Our trip has coincided the my brother-in-law's birthday, and he prefers steak to cake, so...steak it is! Oh ya, sirloin or porterhouse with s'more chaser! Can't beat it! I can not help but salivate just thinking about the smell of steak fat on that fire! It is a well deserved reward to relax around the fire with a full belly and family with which to share it. We don't get to spend much time with them, so it is a special weekend.

The biggest reoccurring theme about the memorable campfires is not the dancing flames around the logs, or the crackling and occasional pop of a log in the heat, or the sweet smell of pine that I like to add just for the scent. No, its not any of these, its the beautiful people with whom I have had the pleasure of sharing the evening. Whether friends or family, I have memories that I cherish around campfires with those I care about that will last a lifetime.

Selecting a Waterfowl Hunting Coat

We were tied up to the bog on Buckeye Lake in my old 14 foot craftsman boat adorned with duck boat paint. Randy and I were shooting ducks on opening day in October. I shot a wood duck which fell onto a branch hanging over the water. Randy said, "I'll get it!" We untied the boat and rowed about 15 feet downwind. He stepped out onto a large branch and reached up and grabbed my duck. He stood there with one foot on the bow and one foot on the branch. I said, "Uh...Randy" "What a beautiful bird." As he stood there admiring the fully plumed drake. He totally ignored me. Before I could get his attention with more urgency, the boat moved out away from the log! Unable to do the splits, he quickly leaped out to the branch on which he had been standing. The water was ten feet deep straight down off the bog. He was in trouble. I rowed over to him with a couple of quick strokes as he climbed his wet behind into my boat. It wasn't real cold out, but a little too cold to be soaking wet! I mentioned to him that It might be a good idea to buy a float coat like to one I have. That winter he did just that.

The next fall we hunting over different spreads of decoys about 80 yards apart. His group did not have a dog, so when randy shot his first teal of the day he walked out of the cattails to retrieve it. I saw him suddenly sink to his arm pits. He splashed around, grabbed the duck and headed to shore. When he got to shore I saw him empty the water out of his gun barrel. I yelled over, "I saved your life!" He did not know it, but the State of Ohio had dredged a channel through there! He was in over his head again, but this time he had a float coat to keep him up. A similar thing happened to me about 5 years after that. The bottom had been dredged down 10 feet, and I forgot. The good news is that my Stearns floatation parka held me up! I was eternally grateful to have it on let me tell you!

I have done some research for my son and friends since then. It does not appear that Stearns makes a full length camouflaged float coat any longer. They do make a jacket however. Mustang makes a full length float parka, but it doesn't appear to come with a hood. It may have a hood that hides in a zipper compartment. I had a Mustang years ago, but I made the mistake of putting it in the dryer! Bad mistake! They make a good coat, and so does Stearns. I bought my son the Onyx coat. It was reasonably priced, warm and he likes it. The bottom line is, I can't see EVER going waterfowl hunting, over water, without a float coat!

The Politics of Waterfowl Hunting

You may have chosen to read this expecting to hear about hunting vs anti-hunting. This is truly a great debate. There are those animal rights activists who claim that the animals have a right to live, and we have no right to take their lives. I find it odd that often times these are the same liberals who advocate killing unborn children. It can't quite figure that one out. The hunters on the other hand argue that we have removed the natural predators, so the animal populations need to be kept in check to maintain a balance in nature. The other side then argues that nature will find its own balance, and we should not interfere. Hunters will add to their argument that hunting is a challenge and an opportunity to really experience and appreciate nature. This goes back to the Native Americans, and how they killed to eat, provide clothing and shelter, yet at the same time fully respected the animals with whom they share the planet. Hunting is actually part of the culture in many areas of our country. Where I currently live, the fastest way to get accepted into the community is show everyone the pictures of the big buck you killed. The anti-group always counters with the fact that you do not have to kill animals to study them. I will interject here that you really don't study an animal until you learn to think like he thinks. The hunters counter with the fact that fees from licensing benefits game and non-game species. It is the greatest source of revenue for protecting the wildlife. The anti-hunters reply with, "We can raise money as well!" The truth is they never scratch the surface of what hunting licenses provide, and that has much to do with why we are still permitted to hunt!

Money is an issue in all aspects of society. You cannot escape it. You also cannot escape the fact that the vast majority of Americans are sensitive to the plight of endangered species. Not many groups argue loudly when decisions are made to protect a species from extinction. However, as the snow goose population continues to over crowd its summer nesting area in the tundra, we should not kill them. What?! Luckily, the biologists disagree and many states have a spring snow goose season without limits and relaxed rules! These rules are different in that you can use electronic calls of actual recorded snow geese, and you can use guns which can hold as many shells as you can handle. On the flip side of this, the cormorant bird is a non-game species of waterfowl that is getting out of control in population. It is eating walleye and bass fry almost as fast as they can be stocked in some areas. Several states have resolved to lessen the number of this invasive species through culling. It makes sense for their wellbeing an that of other native species. However, animal rights activists have gone to court and blocked this effort. The states taking the initiative to keep the population at an equitable level seems to make sense. The only other answer is to make these birds a game animal whereby they will be killed in a less manageable manner. Cormorants have no fear of people or boats or anything. They could be slaughtered out of existence unintentionally.

Luckily this blog is not about hunters vs anti-hunters, snow goose or cormorant management. Its just about sitting in a duck blind with my buddies and my furry companion. We call out to ducks who do not care who was elected president! The fun is to try and conceal yourself from their prying eyes, and try to fool them into thinking that their friends found a safe place to land. After spending time and money accomplishing that task, we try to harvest our dinner as it moves swiftly through the air. That is no easy task! The time waiting is just as enjoyable to me. I have the pleasure of watching the sun rise. I hear the birds sing as the cool breeze blows the marsh grass down wind of our decoys. The smell of nature and all of its fragrances, good and bad, top off the day. How lucky I am to be out here in an environment that does not care about political views. It is not going to try and persuade me to any certain way of thinking. It is just a collection of life doing its thing. How enjoyable! This is my escape! I hope for the rest of my life and yours that there is no politics in waterfowl hunting!

Gunner Thought, "Really Dad, Have You Lost Your Mind?"

Gunner was whining as he stood in the water just off the bank of the rather large farm pond. "Go fetch", I commanded in a hoarse demanding whisper. I was trying to reload. "What is the matter with this dog?", was going through my mind. In a matter of just a few minutes we had 5 ducks down! It was legal shooting time, but still dark and dreary from the gray clouds that produced the annoying light mist.

Gunner is an unusual yellow Lab. He has some quirks to say the least. For example, we put new flooring in our kitchen 5 years ago. He still hasn't gotten used to it. He travels through our kitchen from one strategically placed rug to another. My wife has provided him with "stepping stones" through the kitchen that have sticky backing so they won't slip. (He may be a bit spoiled.) We noticed at Ken's house, who owns his grandfather, that he would back out of the kitchen. He would actually turn around so he could back out! My buddy Randy calls him "Psycho". I can't argue. He is a bit odd about some things, but he is quite the hunter!

Well here "Psycho" stands on the bank as I watched a small flock of mallards circle, only to exit, stage left. "Gunner, fetch the BIRD!" At that point he was out of the water on the bank's edge. He bellowed out a noise that I can only describe as sounding like "Chewy" from Star Wars. Immediately following his utterance, as if Tarzan himself, he leaped into the pond with a crash! He followed the crash with dog paddle strokes lifting his front paws up too high! It was at that point that I realized that he was breaking ice! There was no ice where we put the decoys, except perhaps 10 inches from the bank. However, where we were hiding, which was slightly down wind, it was frozen 35 yards out. Perhaps because the water was shallower there, or because the spring fed the pond where the dekes were, or both I am not sure. I do know that the ice was nearly an inch thick where he was and none at the spread! I can only imagine what Gunner must have been thinking, "Really Dad? Have you lost your mind? I can't walk on it or swim through it!"

Finally, his desire to retrieve birds overcame his frozen obstacle, and he was off! Upon his return, he couldn't find the same path so he had to churn his way back to shore. After a short rest he was right back after it. It was a short retrieve. After that I took him to the open water for the remainder of the birds. We shot three more birds that day. Gunner seemed quite pleased that they all landed on shore! My yellow companion retrieved 7 birds that day.

For the first time, on my season log entries, I am keeping track of the number of Gunner's retrieves. He had retrieved 107 birds to that date. I don't have any season-long data to compare it to other than that of one bird hunter friend of mine. He had a goal for his dog to get 50 retrieves for the season. In perspective, his was not the only dog he hunted with and Gunner usually is the only retriever. The idea to log retrieves came to me when I was in Kansas last year. My buddy, Randy, said he wanted to take Hunter along so he could get some retrieves. He said that he would like to see the old boy get about a dozen retrieves. Matt and I were good with that, so we did what we could to accommodate him. When multiple birds were in the water, we would send Gunner after the further ones, and help get the lovable Black Lab in and out of the boat. By the end of the trip, Gunner had accumulated 73 retrieves and Hunter had 13. The other birds on our 6 day hunt were cripples that dropped way out, or birds that dove on the dogs and we had to chase them down. There weren't many of those, but you have some when you're shooting that many ducks and geese. There was one occasion that we dropped 6 ducks out of a flock, and while we waited for father and son to retrieve 5 of feathered prey, number 6 swam so far out that we could not see him in the slightly choppy water. So we pushed the boat off and set to find it. By the time we found the beautiful drake red head he was not healthy at all. We didn't want to shoot him on the water because he was a taxidermy quality bird. As we approached, we decided to use my landing net to scoop him up. Hunter had other ideas! He jumped out of the boat and grabbed that duck! Ordinarily that would not be surprising, but throughout his life Ol' Hunter has been very apprehensive about exiting a boat! As in, I have watched Randy roll him out! Matt and I had to laugh! The only thing we could figure is that he was tired of watching Gunner get all the fun, and decided to beat him to the punch! In any event, for me, watching the dogs work is all part of the enjoyable experience.

Some Guys are the Albatross

We all know people who seem to come along on days when the hunting is less than stellar. When it happens once or twice, it's no big deal. Somewhere along the way, the number of occurrences suggest that it is not a coincidence! I have known a couple of guys who at one point carried the moniker: Albatross or Jinx! There was one fellow named Mike who is basically a good hunter and a very good guy, but whenever he was a part of the hunting expedition it flopped. It got to the point that someone would volunteer that Mike was going, and everyone got quiet and looked at each other. No one said it, but everyone was thinking it, "Oh, this trip is going to suck!" To illustrate how bad his luck is, a mutual friend invited Mike hunting. Mike said that he could not be there at shooting time, but he would be along soon thereafter. Our friend shot six ducks early that morning, but after Mike showed up there was not a duck to be seen! 

There have been cases where the "curse" has been lifted! My friend, Steve, is a prime example. Many years ago we embarked on a Lake Erie hunt. Larry said, "the shooting has been so good out here that not even 'Stevo' can screw it up!" So off we went. It was a typical December day. It was insanely cold and windy and ice was forming on everything. We got the spread set up, and tied the boat off to a cable that was strapping a tire to the wall. The lake was rough, but we managed to use the cable to assist us in safely getting out of the boat.

We were barely out of the boat with guns loaded by shooting time. We stood silently, not a duck in sight. "Wow, Larry we had ducks in the water by now just a few days ago. I see nothing." No reply was needed, but just to address the elephant in the room, Larry responded with, "Ya, but we didn't have Ol' Stevo with us!" We chuckled, but I could tell that Steve really didn't think it was funny. Several observations were made as a flock of sea gulls approached."Here comes Steve's limit!"I could
not refrain from piling on with the fun at Steve's expense. By this time we were all laughing and having a good time. Suddenly out of nowhere came a small flock of blue bills. The two double barrels erupted and I followed suit. On my third shot I was slightly off balance and the recoil put my straight down. I was standing on ice. I did not realize how much ice had accumulated since we began. Larry and Steve made their way to the boat as we had put a hurt on the group of divers. We had several more flocks cup and cruise in shortly after that. We had been too busy to notice, but it suddenly occurred to me that the ducks were coming in and Steve was with us! I did not dare jinx the lifting of the curse (all in fun I assure you) by saying something out loud. It was not until we were done for the day that Larry made it official, "Stevo finally broke the curse!" Let me tell you, Steve was quite pleased to have that monkey off of his back. 

Steve wasn't half as happy as I was. I hate getting "skunked". As much fun as we had together, that would ruin it, but not the only way to ruin it. We still had to make a safe exit. Larry warned us as we approached the boat, "Now there is ice all over everything so be extra careful getting in the boat." The good news was that we had an upgrade in our hunting boat. Larry's dad and I split the cost of a fifteen footer that was bigger in all dimensions than the little twelve footer in which we had risked our lives. Steve was first. He grabbed the cable and skillfully timed his move into the boat with the crest of a wave. Next it was my turn. I grabbed the cable and waited to time my step into the boat with the crest of the next wave. However, I didn't quite time it right. I had to pull myself back onto the tire and cable and wait for the next crest. I was almost beyond the point of being able to return, but I was hanging by a thread. As the boat rose the next time, I stepped down onto the seat and "whirl"! It all happened so fast it was a blur, but my foot had slipped and my backside landed in the rear of the boat by the gas tank. I looked up to see Steve literally perched up on the bow like a cat. His feet were on the tip and he was holding on to the gunnel less than 12 inches from his feet! He was ready to spring back up on that wall should I have capsized the boat. I believe my comment was, "My ass is wet, and I don't even care!" Steve could not have picked a better time to bring good fortune to a hunt!

"Don't Shoot 'til I get Loaded!"

Being tall came in handy hiding behind a boulder, but it seemed really weird standing on cement hiding behind a rock shooting ducks. It was nothing like my limited experiences had been. This was the antithesis of what I watched on television! A duck blind camouflaged with marsh grass, a low hanging roof speckled with the multicolored leaves of autumn came to mind. The unmistakable foul odor of black swamp muck was the olfactory image of a truly ducky setting.

However, here I was on the break wall at Edgewater Park facing the city of Cleveland near the mouth of the infamous Cuyahoga River. The only river to have ever caught fire! I was closer to being in a concrete jungle than a classic waterfowl habitat. That being said, we were putting the feathered fighter planes down on the deck, one after another.

It was not my first time hunting the break wall, but I shot like a rookie! It was only the shear numbers of birds, coupled with the fact that my partner was shooting a Browning Citori double barrel that allowed me the opportunity to harvest the open water birds of winter! It was windy and cold as usual. The wind was out of the north west, which was not the norm for good bird numbers. Usually, the cold north wind that cuts through your clothes and stings you like a hornet is what brings in large rafts of ducks off the lake. The north wind is handy as well in bringing the birds right at you as they need to land into the wind. So while a north wind is bitter cold, it does line the ducks up for an easier shot. This day the ducks were quartering to us. I can use that as an excuse if I want to, however poor it might be! I have to admit, I did laugh at myself a few times! "How did I miss?!", but the only response I received was more laughter! I have since learned that the the only one to have never missed a duck is the one who never hunted ducks!

One of the truly memorable things about this trip was that I shot my first drake goldeneye. It was a beautiful bird. It was too bad we didn't have cell phones back then. I would have some pictures that would make your jaw drop! Pictures of liberal limits and multiple species of birds all fully plumed. We didn't even have water proof instamatic cameras back in the day. My hunting buddy, Larry (who believes himself to be a comedian) keeps reminding me of another memory that I have to admit, makes me laugh. We were standing behind the boulder drinking coffee and counting how many shotgun shells we had left of our two boxes each. I casually looked to my left and over the rock, and there was a flock of a dozen blue bills gliding right over the decoys! Without time to speak, I raised my 1100 Remington and unloaded my three rounds only to watch ALL of the little critters fly straight away! "Thanks for the heads up, BUDDY!" I know Larry thought I deserved that, but before I could explain my position the birds turned back toward us. At that moment I was fumbling with a shell as I was wearing thick gloves. It was then that I made the statement that has haunted me for 40 years, "Don't shoot 'til I get loaded!" I can still hear my companion's laughter. I remember hearing him laugh as he pulled the trigger! Why I said that I have no idea. It was a stupid thing to say, especially to Larry! It was in a moment of excitement and frustration. Larry dropped two blue bills from the flock. I did fire two shots and one of them was lucky enough to find its mark, but it didn't matter. The 40 years of teasing began. I laughed, but I am not sure if it was at my ridiculous statement or from watching my friend leaning against the wall laughing so hard that he couldn't catch his breath!

The Thrill of Victory!

With the cold north wind howling at our backs, the blue bill locked up and came coasting right at us. He was dropping fast. At 25 yards, I aimed at his feet and ignited the #6 shot shell. 

It was a good shot, but one that came with much coaching. It was my first season hunting ducks and all the different angles of approach made shooting difficult for me at times. My mentors, Larry and his Dad, were constantly teaching me about shooting, decoy placement, shot shells and boating tips. Boating is a skill that many duck hunters ignore, and that can cause life threatening situations.

All the way to the garage to get the boat that day, Larry was offering pointers. I listened intently. I soaked up information like a sponge. I was 19 years old and eager to learn. He told me that as windy as it was we might be limited as to where we could set up. He also warned me to be careful of the ice. At these temperatures the break wall could be pretty slick.  

As we launched the boat, it was apparent that the wind would play a role today. We had a difficult time controlling the boat at the boat ramp. It was cold enough to squelch the stench of the frozen fish carcasses that were pushed up onto the ramp by the waves. It also made walking a bit treacherous.  With 30-35 mph north wind, the ducks nearly had to land into it. We managed to load up without incident. As we carefully motored our way along the south side of the wall, we could see the waves crashing into the back side and rolling right over the top. That is where we would be standing, not good. It was dark, but the lights from the city allowed us to see the danger. Larry motored on ahead in our 12 foot semi-V. As we approached the end of the west wall, I could see that the waves were not rolling over top of the wall. "We'll hunt here." I heard Larry say over the roar of the crashing waves. We worked quickly and carefully to set our small spread of blocks from our little dingy. This was only made possible by the protection of the break wall and God himself!

There were occasional spots along the break wall where you tie your boat off. The wall was smooth and vertical for 54" above the water level where it flattened out for 5 feet then it went up 5 more feet, horizontal on top for 5 feet, and mirrored that shape on the back side. 

After the decoys were set, we slowly approached the wall. Getting out of the boat was an adventure in itself. We had to put our hands on the wall and time up our lift with the crest of a wave. The water was so rough that it was an easy short lift for me to hop up on the wall while on a crest. However, I didn't want to slip because the boat dropped right out from under me with the following trough. 

After getting to my feet, Larry tossed our gear and guns up to me. He tied the boat off and hopped up on the wall. "Get loaded", he yelled, "Its almost shooting time." I slipped on an icy patch and fell against the back wall. "Wow", I thought. "Going to have to be more careful."  From our perch I could see why we were not washed off of the wall. There was actually a secondary wall that branch off behind us. The second wall took much of the lake water's furious energy. All that we received was a misty spray which froze to our clothes and kept us warm. Unfortunately, it also froze under foot and on our guns. I periodically worked my safety and pumped my Model 37 Ithaca to make sure all was in working order. 

It was barely shooting time when the single blue bill met his demise. It was one of many to come. We watched a flock of 30 scaup approach a spread of dekes more than a half mile away. We saw some birds fall, the flock fly out, then heard the boom, boom, boom! Larry explained to the rookie hunter that the speed of the sound was slower, so the sound of the guns was delayed. The same flock came to the next spread, some fell, flew out, heard the shots, and over and over until there were only 2 ducks left. Here came the last two. I couldn't believe it. They came right in. Our scatter guns barked in unison and the entire flock was gone! "Dam! Can you believe that?" Larry took the words right out of my mouth. "I guess it's our job to thin out the dumb ones!"  He added. 

We timed the re-entry into the boat the same way we exited, with a wave crest. On this final return to the boat that day, I handed Larry the gear and dropped into the boat. I was more than relieved to make the drop knowing that it was the last time that day! I loved hunting "The Wall", but it scared me half to death every time!

When we retrieved the last two feathered prey, they were added them to the pile of 16 divers we had in the bottom of the boat. Most divers were 10 point ducks back then, and we could accumulate 100 points per day! 

We picked up the diver lines and fired up the "trusty" six horse Johnson. I remember thinking what an adrenaline rush it was, a struggle and a thrill that is tough to duplicate. As we rode the waves up and down to the ramp, we brandished the oars of victory! 

A Duck Hunt to Remember!

It was the third day of our December Kansas hunt. Larry and I sat at the breakfast table drinking steaming hot coffee while stuffing bacon and eggs in our mouth. All the while, we listened to the frigid north wind roar past the trailer we were renting. At the moment, we were enjoying the warmth of the indoors and sweet aroma of coffee and bacon! We were pulled in two directions. We would really like to stay in the comfort of the indoors, but at the same time, we knew the birds would be there in numbers! We decided to formulate our strategy at the breakfast table. The previous two mornings we wasted time making decisions, then had to frantically get the spread set up before shooting time. It was too cold to have that conversation on the water!

There wasn’t much to stop the Kansas wind. It just seemed to cut right through us as it swept through the plains. My companion, Larry, trusty lab, Gunner, and I found a slightly protected bank along the river. The bank was just at the correct angle to break a good bit of the wind, but at the same time allow us to put the decoys where they could be seen from both directions up and down the river. That coupled with the fact that the sun was pretty much at our back, put us in pretty good position. The sun at our back meant that the shadows helped hide us from the eyes of our prey, and for an added bonus we didn’t have to stare into the sun!

It seemed like the best possible spot. Right at shooting time a three mallards agreed. They came out of nowhere and joined the Herter’s fakes. Our Benelli shotguns announced their arrival, and two birds splashed down. A good start to a bitter cold morning. The 17 degree temperature wasn’t horrible by itself, but the 25-30 mph winds made it quite chilly! It didn’t take long for ice to start forming around and on the dekes. The ducks however were not discouraged from joining our party. A flock of goldeneye soon cruised the edge of our spread, and two were counted against our limit. Not long afterwards, I scored a single drake mallard who swooped in from above the trees.

 Suddenly, we heard the unmistakable sound of snow geese closing in fast. Our guns at the ready. We could only helplessly watch as one flock after another flew by 100 yards away only five to thirty feet off the water! “Oh! They were flying right off the point where we were set up on yesterday!” I moaned. Larry reminded me, “You have already shot 11 geese and 12 ducks in two days. Do you really want to sit out there in this wind?” His logic was irrefutable. As much as I would have loved to drop a couple of snow geese, I knew we will get our share of ducks right there!

After a flock of about 100 widgeon flew over just out of range, a pair of canada geese honked over a field 250 yards down wind. I honked, cluck and whined at the reluctant duo and they started to turn. A few more honks in response to theirs and they were out in front of us for a shot. I swung ahead of the closest bird, about 65 yards away. I hesitated just a bit to allow my swing to lengthen the lead and pulled the trigger. That honker folded like a rock. “Yes!” I shouted. That big airplane sized bird landed 100 yards out. We decided to run out with the boat and retrieve it rather than send Gunner out on a long retrieve in those conditions. He would have had ice on his head as the waves hit him in the side of the face. He didn’t need that!

Larry used my landing net to scoop up the canada goose so as not to take a chance on getting water above his waterproof gloves. There were a couple of decoys that required our attention. After returning the decoys back to the river, I made the mistake of grabbing the gunnel of the boat with my wet glove. The glove instantly froze to the boat! That made it really difficult to steer!  

We got the boat back into position, and waited for the next action. We had no idea what was in store for us! A memory I wish to never forget! It was probably 10 minutes when we decided to break out the peanut butter and honey sandwiches. We sat there eating while Gunner watched intently all wrapped up in his wool blanket.

 He wasn’t watching for birds now. He was hoping one of us would drop our sandwich so he could scarf it up! I looked up in time to see a flock of 30 mallards coasting by with the wind at 30 yards. I grabbed my gun and picked out a green head. “Wait.”, Larry said hoarsely through his sandwich! I hesitated. I slowly turned at looked at him. I was visibly upset. “Watch’em”, he whispered. Sure enough the ducks turned back into the wind and back toward out spread. I have seen ducks go down wind and turn around before, but this flock did something surprising. Instead of the entire flock swinging like a door, each duck turned individually. It may have been that there wasn’t room for the group to swing together as one unit because the trees on the river bank were too close. I don’t know, but here they came. These big ducks cupped and came right into the hole! “Take’em!” I said excitedly.  Larry already had his gun up. “Bang! Bang! Bang!” As I watched the ducks fall. I quickly scanned the spread and saw 6 mallards floating belly up in the dekes! I saw Larry throw a shell in his gun and swing on a drake that inexplicably came back through. “Whoa!” I screamed. “What?” “Look in the water I yelled!”, then stood up. “We both tripled!” It was high fives followed by some war hoops!

It wasn’t quite 10:00 and we were packing up. I have shot triples on geese and ducks, but I still can’t believe that both of us to tripled on mallards from the same flock! That made this a duck hunt to remember!