The Great Goose Hunt that Wasn't

As I stood knee-deep in swamp muck and duck saturated water, I was glad I wore my waders! What a strange hunt. We were hunting a corn field for geese! Randy's dog, Hunter found the black duck, unbelievable! I forgot what a good nose he has. "Hunter! Come here, boy. Fetch it up!" Oh no! He's not coming to me. That rascal his heading straight back to his owner!

This expedition was spawned in the imagination of my good friend, Randy. He was remembering a hunt that he and I had twenty years ago. On that day we visited his high school cross country coach who has a farm near Sandusky Bay. We went on a hunt there in late November and bagged a pair of giant canadas in the one goose zone. One goose per day was our rationale for not returning sooner, but the limit has since been relaxed. It was time to try it again.

It is a three-hour drive from my house to the Bay. Consequently, it was an "early morning" that November day. Anyone who is a serious waterfowl hunter has rolled out of bed in the middle of the night in order to reach that magic destination. We are usually willing to make this sacrifice for the opportunity for good shooting. There is no such thing as a guarantee in hunting. This hunt was no exception. We had no "intel" on the current goose migration, only a forecasted cold front moving in from the north. I received a call from Randy that Matt and I needed to join him on Wednesday before Thanksgiving for a goose hunt at his former coach's farm. That meant that we had to pack up 100 full bodied goose fakes and shells. It took a few minutes to load all of those dekes in the back of Randy's truck, but we managed. We loaded our guns and two dogs and were on our way!

Our merry band pulled off the road beside some corn stubble barely before shooting time. The decoy bags had to be carried some 200 yards off the road to a small mound in the field. It is important to be respectful of a farmer's property and not drive in their fields. As I picked up the last bag, it clanged. "What in the heck do you have in this bag?" I asked Randy. "It weighs a ton!" "I saved that bag for you!" Was his response. "It has some mojo mallard decoys and poles. I thought they might add some movement." "This bag will have plenty of movement when I hit you over the head with it!" I said with a grin. Randy was smiling from ear to ear listening to me complain about being his pack mule! All in fun, we rib each other and laugh all the time. You have to have fun, because life is too short.
It was cold, below freezing, but the ground was still soft. We had no trouble inserting the silhouette stakes into the ground through the thin frozen layer. As we plunged the mojo poles into the field we could detect the faint odor of manure used to fertilize the field.

Shooting time came, but no birds were in sight. This was not terribly disturbing as goose peak movement hours are usually closer to 10:00 AM, especially when it is cold. The sunrise was beautiful. The beauty was short-lived, however, as dark gray clouds moved in rapidly from the northwest. It wasn't long until the dark gray clouds of autumn dominated the sky. "Perhaps this cold front will bring in some migrators!" My wishful thinking was echoed by my partners. The wind picked up as predicted and the temperature seemed top drop even more. Randy was babbling on about the flight times of geese and suddenly paused. "Are those ducks?" He added to his monolog. I turned my gaze in the same direction to see a flock of hundreds of ducks approaching from the north. "Let's get in position!" I mumbled as I flopped down. Everyone quickly took their places among the fakes. We did not have room for our layout blinds in the truck, so we used corn stalks and weeds as cover. The feathered migraters coasted high overhead to our chorus of hail calls. To my surprise, the flock made their way downwind and began to turn. They swung wide around our blocks still too high to identify, but we knew they were big ducks. They kept turning and now clearly descending on our party of pretenders. The made a tornado of ducks! It seemed like it took ten minutes for them to get close enough to see clearly, mallards! Without warning four ducks broke out of the swirl and locked their wings straight at the mojos. "Take'em!"Randy yelled. I hesitated because of the vast numbers of birds hovering overhead. The scatterguns sounded off and all four mallards were on the ground waiting for our two eager labs, Gunner and Hunter. "Alright!" Randy barked out playfully."Who shot the hen?"  I stood up, both literally and figuratively, "I did! It was the only one left!" my late arrival to the party resulted in a brown mallard, frowned upon by our group. "I thought I said pick out a green head!" Randy pronounced judgment. "You did not!" The ribbing did not have a chance to last very long. I was saved by another huge flock of ducks. This group followed the same pattern. They drifted downwind and began to turn until they formed an avian tornado descending on us! As the hoard of ducks circled out of range two green heads broke off and came screaming in just off the deck. "Let these go!" Randy said what we were all thinking. "We want green heads, Bill, but bigger groups!" That was Randy getting a shot in at me. I didn't have to look at him to see that ornery grin! The pair coasted on through. I followed them until I couldn't turn my neck any further. When I looked back I saw a group of eight dropping right in our laps! It seemed like a shame to shoot at groups this size and educate hundreds of ducks, but you have to play the cards that are dealt you. I picked out a green head, sat up and folded him up like a bath towel! My hunting partners did likewise. "Why did you shoot?" Randy looked at me as if in disbelief. "I said no small flocks. I didn't say take'em!" "Who died and left you in charge of this expedition? I don't need you to tell me when to shoot!" Matt just stood there and laughed at us. It is all good-natured kidding when you are scoring waterfowl. Matt announced that he removed a black duck from hunter's mouth. It is not unusual to find black ducks in flocks of mallards. The good news was that we could shoot more ducks. We were allowed four mallards and one black duck each. It was time to take inventory of our duck pile.

We counted our collection of six mallards (one hen) and two black ducks and discussed our limit options. After twenty minutes of watching one humongous flock after another pass us by, we finally had one small flock look our way. The small flock was about fifty ducks. my trusty lab, Gunner sat on my left. He blended in well with the corn stubble. He watched intently as the ducks circled. Each time they got downwind they would glide motionless like a kite, then move on. One hen mallard left the circle parade and drifted in slowly into the wind. "Bang!" A gunshot shattered the singing of our feeding chuckles. Randy shot the lone female! "What?! What happened to pick out the green heads! You want to talk about shooting into small flocks! That hen was alone! You gave me ten miles of grief, and you pulled that stunt!" I was letting him have it. All randy could do was lay there and laugh. he had it coming and he knew it!

Shortly thereafter another large swarm of ducks slowly cruised by at high altitude. The tornado soon formed to our serenade of hail calls. Several times there were small groups that dipped own out of the flock but did not finish. All we could do was lie on our backs and feeding chuckle with an occasional "Quack". Gunner joined in with a soft whine as he shook with excitement. Twenty ducks finally committed, and four stayed behind upside down in the decoys. A fifth bird fell out of the sky on the far side of the field.

Those birds made five for Randy, so he went to the truck to eat and get warm. Matt decided to walk across the field to see if he could find the duck that fell. I elected to stay put as I only had three on the day. No sooner than Matt was out of sight, but forty ducks were in my face coming straight in. I waited, but they didn't want to finish. As they started to drift off to my left, I sat up and unloaded my gun. I could not believe it as I watched them flying away! I almost did watch long enough when one bird fell straight down out of the flock! It wasn't pretty, but I didn't get skunked! Randy came walking out in the field, "Hey! Do you have any dead birds on this side of the road?" I said, "I believe so. Why?" A black duck crash landed into that timber on the other side of the road. Well, Hunter found that bird and Matt found my drake mallard on his way back.

My shooting might not have been great, but I filled my limit. At any rate, it was a heck of a "goose hunt" for not seeing any geese!

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!

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!