The Most Spectacular Double Retrieve Ever!

I became the proud owner of my first retriever when I was in college. He was the runt of a litter of fourteen pups. This little guy was unable to fight his older siblings for a place at "the dinner table" for mother's milk. At twenty four hours old, the owner found him cold and lifeless in a corner of the box. She warmed him up on her hands and her responded. The med student then fed the infant golden retriever with an eye dropper. He perked up. I had expressed interest in a puppy, hence the phone call. If I wanted to care for him, I could have him for free! It was a lot of work, but after three weeks of feedings and wipings, I had a cute little golden retriever puppy. He ate with such voracity that I used to say that he eats like a champ. Therefore, I named him Champ.

Champ grew to become the biggest dog of the litter. He was a tall ninety five pound brute. That dog was one hard headed and determined animal. The later served him well as a hunter. I was busy with school as Champ was growing up, but I took him bird hunting every chance I had. One day, my good friend Matt, and I went hunting in a local creek. I knew ducks followed the creek to the nearby reservoir. I did not shoot particularly well that day, but Matt harvested two wood ducks. From that day, he is forever known as "Woody". The second of Woody's two birds landed in a thicket that surrounded a dead tree on the outside bend of the creek. Champ laid down on the ground and belly crawled into the thicket. Meanwhile, Woody and I scanned the sky looking for more ducks and told stories. After five minutes I heard a commotion in the thicket. I said, "Here Champ!", and went on telling of my adventures. Several minutes later here came champ with the duck firmly in his mouth. I can still see that beautifully plumed drake wood duck with his head up looking around. I can only imagine what he was thinking, but I know I was thinking that was a heck of a retrieve!

I hunted that creek as often as I could because it was public and no one hunted it. On one late October day, it was just me and Champ. I put six plastic blocks on the straight stretch of the creek. The sun rose majestically on the horizon, but no ducks showed interest in our party. It was a beautiful sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. I knew if I could see well, the birds could see better, So, I constructed a blind beside a log using area vegetation, but no birds fell for our invitations. Without warning, which is often the case, three mallards glided down the creek. I swung my 1100 Remington through the targets, and squeezed the trigger twice. Two birds fell, both upstream on a shallow bend in the creek. I gave the fetch command, and the long haired retriever was off like a rocket! As Champ approached the shallow water both ducks righted themselves with heads up. The shallows had a gravel bottom, and shallow enough that the big dog was able to run rather than swim. As he was only three feet from the first drake mallard and closing fast, the duck had plans of his own. The mallard leaped into the air and started to flap. Champ leaped in response. What happened next I have never seen before or since. That dog grabbed that duck out of the air and brought him down! All I could do was clap in amazement! "Atta boy Champ! Fetch'em up, boy!" I believe that it was at this point that I realized that the other bird had disappeared. I scanned the bank, but to no avail. As I took the bird from dog's mouth, I looked up in time to see a greenhead swimming just under the sparkling clear water, just 15 feet away. "Fetch that bird!", I commanded. Champ hesitated, turned his head, and sprang into action. A few seconds later he came back wagging his soaking wet hairy tail with another drake mallard in his mouth! In the forty years that I have hunted ducks that is the most spectacular double retrieve that I have ever witnessed. One duck out of the air and one duck retrieved from under the water. What else can you ask of a dog?

Lesson #1, Sandusky Bay Layout Hunting

We were on Sandusky Bay at the perfect time in December. We saw huge clouds of ducks flying on the horizon. We got to the bay at sunrise which is no big deal targeting divers. They fly through the middle of the day. Larry, Hoss and I arrive at the Dempsey Access in time to see a spectacular show to the east. It was motivation to get the boat in the water and get the blocks set for the day. The wind was "nor'easter" was blowing cold and steady. We were somewhat protected at the ramp so all was good. The ramp was steep and not very long, a good thing for rough water. We had to lift the home made two man layout boat off the tender and carry it in the water first. Next week launched the 17-foot tender boat and tied the layout boat with ski ropes for towing. It was too heavy to leave it in the tender boat. We loaded up, parked the truck, and headed out. Larry drove us far enough out off shore to get in the flight path of the birds, but not so far as to get into white caps. The first order of business was to set the boat, then place the dekes around it. Larry showed us that the boat would be facing downwind as the birds would most likely be coming upwind. He showed Hoss the cowl that we made out of canvas that could be pulled up if it started to get rough. This would keep the waves from breaking into the boat from behind, theoretically. This was all very fascinating to me. Although I helped Larry with the construction of the boat, I had never been layout shooting before, nor Hoss for that matter. Larry explained to us that the divers preferred to follow the line of dekes and land at the "head of the class" rather than fall in behind like puddle ducks. Therefore we needed to stop the line short of the boat and put a ball of dekes for attraction. Also, since Hoss and I were both right handed, we would have limited range to swing right. The best spread for us was to run the line slightly to the left, or port side, of the boat so we could get better shots.  Later, when Larry was to get in the boat, we would move some decoys to make a line on the right side or starboard, since he is left handed. It made perfect sense!

The line was set, we transferred ourselves and gear to the low profile boat and loaded up. I barely closed the action on my semi auto when three bluebills made what looked like a strafing run down the line. They came in and were gone so fast, we only took one shot each! Laughter ensued as the "black heads" (as they call them in North Carolina) gave us lessons! Not long afterward, a small group of scoters were caught cruising our line. One shot each, as before, now produced two floating prey. Before we could gloat too long a single ruddy duck glided in, teetering back and forth as he coasted down the line. Bang! One shot and Hoss had his first ever ruddy duck! We waved the flag, which was the signal to the tender boat operator that we needed his assistance. I saw Larry creating a large wake as he ran the boat our direction. For no apparent reason, he stopped. After a short pause, it hit me why he stopped. I shouldered my Remington before looking. There they were, all flock of buffleheads screaming straight at us! Kaboom ! Hoss and I shot simultaneously, followed by one more each. Three birds lay dead as the rest flew straight over our heads so low that I probably could have hit one with my gun barrel. "Ho, Ho! This is a blast!" Hoss was really impressed. Larry motored in and picked up our birds with a landing net. He drove close by enough to yell, "Put up your cowl!" We were having fun and did not notice that the wind was picking up speed. We lifted the cowl. which was primarily to the stern, where it was needed. If we lifted the bow end, we couldn't see. We reclined for comfort again, when we saw a flock of ducks in a line fly overhead about 75 yards up. Then another, and another, they just kept coming. It occurred to me that the birds had longish tails although we couldn't see the colors well, we surmised that they could have been pintails. Looking back on it, they could just have easily been oldsquaw. After 20 minutes of that, we had a lone goldeneye cup its wings, ride the wind, and glide in according to plan. Hoss added his first goldeneye to his list of firsts, and it was high-five time. We laid back down as some mergansers teased us by flying across out of range. Whoosh! Suddenly, someone just poured a bucket of ice water down my back, as if I had just won the next big game in my coaching career! What the heck! The wave was big enough to break over the cowl. I had water right down my back inside my coat and into my waders! The boat wasn't "full" of water, but there were hulls and stuff floating in it. The flag was up! "Come on buddy, get us out of here!" I thought. Whoosh, another wave broke over the stern. Hoss and I quickly abandoned the stern in an attempt to tip it up slightly. "Did you guys put enough floatation in this boat?" was Hoss's obvious inquiry. I assured him that we had plenty of foam. There was no way we could sink. It seemed to take Larry forever to get there.

He arrived. We were soaked, but never in any real danger. We bagged up the decoys and set the bags in the layout, tied it off and slowly motored toward Dempsey. On the way in Larry told us that he could feel the wind building the waves. There was no way there was going to be time to move dekes and take a turn, so he was content to let us shoot. The truth is that the rascal probably figured that he would get in there just in time to get soaked! He isn't stupid, but neither are we. Our first lesson was to be mindful of the wind! I vowed to never to let that happen again!

A Picturesque Hunt that Would Make Terry Redlin Proud

It was a cool October morning, but it could not have been more beautiful. Duck season opened earlier in October in those days. We were fortunate in that it coincided with the full color of the Ohio deciduous forests. The lake we were hunting lies in the middle of the most picturesque woods you could ever imagine. The vibrant colors of the leaves were reflected by the mirror calm water. There was not a cloud in the sky, truly breath taking. The only aromas from our island blind was the sweet smell of pipe tobacco and black coffee. As we drank our warm beverage and relaxed, the group could not imagine more beautiful scenery. The only thing that might have made it better was a flock of ducks. Right on cue two fully plumed wood ducks appeared seemingly from no where. I shouldered my smooth bore and broke the serenity. In unison both birds closed their wings and plummeted in response to one eruption from my autoloader. Two birds taken with one shot, and what beautiful birds they were. The drake and hen wood ducks were as picture perfect as the surroundings.

Everyone in our group harvested waterfowl that day. The geese flew all night by the full moon, so they didn't make themselves available very often during the day. We had action from the regular visitors of mallards, teal and woodies. I have vivid memories of that hunt. Everyone put their fair share of birds in the coolers, but what comes to my mind first. What I remember most was the absolute beauty and peacefulness of the setting. The sun warmed the day throughout the afternoon. We sat under a giant oak tree drinking coffee near our tents. The singing birds and the backdrop soaked into our being as we shared stories until dinner. I am not sure why the Ohio duck season opens later now, but at least I have these memories as if straight out of a Terry Redlin calendar!

"Listen to Your Elders", It Paid Off this Day!

There were three of us in the small musty cabin. Steve and Al slept on the bunk beds while I lay on the floor bundled up in my sleeping bag. It was cold and wet outside. There was barely enough room to bring all of our gear in out of the rain. There was no electricity in our primitive abode, so if it weren't for Al's heater we might have had a rough night. However, the warmth of the heater coupled with the sound of the rain and sleet on the roof made the environment conducive for a deep sleep.

Our peaceful slumber was rudely disturbed by the sound of my wind up alarm ringing at 5:30 AM. It is annoying enough that I knew we couldn't sleep through it. The cabin was dark, but the heater gave just enough light for me to find the snooze button! Outside the rain had picked up to a torrential down pour. The gentle tapping on the roof had given way to a sound of a bath tub faucet! I was comfortable, warm and dry all curled up in my sleeping bag. I have to admit. I did not want to get up.

I heard Steve's voice in the dark, "Oh my God! Do you hear that?" Next was the distinct sound of Al's laughter. "I am going to stay right here!", I announced with a groan, followed by a chorus of chuckling from the bunk beds. "Ducks won't fly in this crap will they?" Steve was probing for answers. "Hell no!", Al's answer was immediate through a chuckle. "I'll tell ya what though", the elder statesman continued, "Between showers they'll fly!" "Do you think its worth leaving this nice warm cabin?" was my intellectual comment, to which Steve immediately laughed. "Not for me, but you guys could get some really good shootin'! "I was almost hoping for a different answer from the most experienced member of our expedition. "What do you want to do, Bill?" I heard Steve reluctantly ask from the top bunk. He did not seem any more eager to go out in that weather than I did. Our discussion went back and forth, "What do you want to do?" each of us trying to entice the other into making a decision. Steve was the first one to hop out of bed. The call of mother nature won out. He had to find the "little hunter's bush" as there was no plumbing or out buildings.

Since Steve got up I figured I had better, so I fired up the Coleman stove and began to fill the tiny cabin with the aroma of bacon and eggs. Al's health was not the best, so he opted to stay indoors. I put a pot of water on for coffee, and suited up for the monsoon. "Steve and I encouraged each other with words like, "Well, we came all the way out here. We might as well hunt!" We walked down to the water's edge and found the boat where we left it. Our habit was to row out to onto the private lake and set out the decoys the night before. By this time the rain had slowed to a gentle shower, but by the time we tied the boat to the blind it had turned to sleet.

Steve and I sat in the mixture of rain and sleet for over an hour without the remotest indication that we shared that county with a single bird of any kind! As we lamented the fact that we left a nice warm comfortable bed to sit out in the mess, the rain slowed and stopped. As if Al could actually predict the future, it was at that instant that a flock of buffleheads appeared out of nowhere. We swung through the birds and fired .Two of my three shots found their mark, and four butterballs splashed down hard as the rest of the group rocketed down the lake. At that point we were quite pleased that we had taken the senior hunter's advice and brave the elements. No sooner did we return to our blind, birds in hand, than the rain returned with vengeance. After about forty five minutes of that, we decided that Al must be inside laughing his behind off at the two idiots sitting through the deluge. Believe it or not, the rain stopped and birds appeared again! This time is was a ringneck flock that descended on our collection of fake fowl, this aggregate actually included a wayward bluebill drake in their number. Although we considered ourselves astute ornithologists of the waterfowl variety, we discovered this fact posthumously. A pair of his relatives soon joined him. I was surprised to see so many divers on a twenty five acre lake, but it was late November. I believe the close proximity to a large body of water was also a contributing factor. A small flock of mallards did grace us with their presence between rain showers. The green headed duo allowed us to complete our daily bag limit, and added some excellent table fare as well.

When the day was done we had to admit that it was a pleasurable hunt, although miserable at the same time. I remember my mother saying, "Listen to your elders!". On this day, it really paid off!