"The Day" on the Prairie

I had another weekend opportunity to get back out on God's great prairie, and again, I was after ducks. The last hunt I had proved successful, but there were close to a thousand ducks in the slough across the road. Whatever it was about that side, the ducks liked it better. This was two weeks ago. Up here on the prairie, a lot can change in two week's time. For one, I got permission from the landowner to hunt that slough, and two, I neglected to scout it the night before. For all intents and purposes, I am glad I did. I busted a small flock of specklebellies and Canada geese when I got to the spot. This was a fantastic omen for me.
Again, I could feel the 'magic' in these decoys. I worked a little harder to spread out the decoys a little more this time around. It was getting to be mid-season, and I needed to make my spread look a little bigger. When Dad was up last, he talked about adding a few bluebill decoys in a hook on the outskirts of a puddler set. I distributed my mallards, with a few pintails stuck in there, left a larger gap in the middle, and put a small string of bluebills on the far side of the set. I finished the set with my mojo mallard on the outside of the spread instead of the inside like I had been doing.
Fifteen minutes after legal light I was buzzed by fighter jets. They pulled a loop and were dropping right into my set; right by the bluebill dekes.
I dropped the lead drake of the three redheads.
After less than ten minutes, I had two more redheads come right in doing the exact same thing. Again, I pulled the big fat drake down right outside of the spread. At this point I figured no more divers as divers are tough to ID at Mach 4, and my limit is two redheads.
I was honestly surprised by the amount of birds I was seeing. Two weeks ago, it was like mosquitoes; today they were still there, but there were far fewer. I could hear the geese on the field behind me, and I assumed that was where most of the mallards were. I finally had a lone goose fly just too close for his own good, and I was able to fold him and drop him on the slough edge. As Mocha and I went to retrieve it I heard this weird laughing noise coming from behind me. I had never seen them this close before, and they are HUGE.
A pair of tundra swans were locked up and dropping into the slough on the other side of the nob from where I was located. If I had my swan tag, I would have filled it.
We found our goose and returned to our set. It didn't take long and I had a fat drake mallard working the set. A couple loops and he flared just within range. I was able to pull him down, again on the other side of the nob. Mocha was finally able to see it past the cattails, and took it straight to the shoreline.
I had many flocks of geese coming very close to shooting range but they were just outside of my effective range. I heard another pair coming my way when I looked up. A single drake pintail was working my set. After his second loop, the geese of course flew right over the top of me. I let them pass through as I wanted that pintail more than the geese. I watched as he worked that spread for 10 minutes. That may not seem long, but it was an eternity from a duck hunter's standpoint. Loop after loop, he would get lower and lower. What I thought was his last go around, his wings locked and feet down, he pulled up and it was now or never. He pulled behind me, and I was able to drop him into the bean field. Mocha was unable to catch him as the conveniently placed hot-wire distracted her a bit...
At this point I was on cloud 9 again. A full plume drake pintail. This was a bucket-lister for me.
I returned to my spot and admired my duck. I didn't think this day would get better. I was wrong. I was buzzed again by fighter jets, this time they were bigger. The first time they came through I thought redheads again. The second time they buzzed feet above my head, and could not believe what I saw.
Canvasbacks.
For the non-duck hunters, this was a central flyway's dream bird. This was another one of my bucket lister's that I honestly thought it would take years, if at all, to fulfill.
They pulled a final loop and were feet down, wings locked, again in front of the bluebills.
I pulled the drake down, and gave him another for good measure as I did not want to lose this one. I freaked when Mocha brought him back to me.

I could not believe my luck today. The only thing that would have made it better was if Dad was physically there with me. Otherwise, he was there the whole time. Calling the shots, telling me to wait for another pass, and to admire the splendor of the marsh.
I again sat and gawked at my ducks. I biffed a chance at a drake widgeon, and let two fat gadwalls come and go within my set. Mocha about exploded when I had to call her off of a shoveler that dropped within 10 yards of us. I looked up to watch another flock of redheads not even hesitate and drop just on the outskirts of those magical bluebills. I watched them as they swam around and between my decoys. As they neared my mojo on the far side, I looked up to see a fat drake mallard with feet down above the mojo.
One perfect shot, and he was flopping on the water. Mocha was locked on it before he hit the water. Another fantastic retrieve from my hunting companion.
I loaded my gun with goose loads and again, wrapped up the magical decoys.
What. A. Morning!
To cap it off, as we walked back to get the car, 15 more swans dropped in the corner opposite of our spread.

Unreal.

A one man, all-drake limit: two redheads, two mallards, a pintail, a bull canvasback, and a bonus honker. When I got home I had the Mrs. take more pics for me.

The crazy part was, I wasn't done with my day. It was a little after noon and there were roosters to chase. I was tired already but I wanted to shoot my first South Dakota pheasant. Rachel's boss granted us permission to walk a quarter section he owned just outside of town. Mocha was a little slow to start, and I kind of had to work her back into the groove of pheasants versus ducks. As luck would have it, we got 40 yards from a group of does bedded in the middle of the shelterbelt.
Figures.
We weaved in and out of the belt without a sign of a pheasant. Then there was Mocha face down in the grass. A snarling hissing mess ensued and out pops a now crippled and pissed orange tabby cat. After finishing that off, I congratulated the pup on a job well done, and examined her for punctures or wounds. Not a scratch. :)
We worked our way down the belt and again she stopped. Dad always told me to read the dog, and I was almost certain she was on a skunk. I saw the grass moving between her and I, and I yelled for her to stop. For whatever reason, she just sat down on the spot. Whatever it was, bee-lined for me and was hissing growling the whole way. I shot and stopped it in its tracks.
I now have a 60 pound, really pissed off badger with a large hole in it's head.
These things are dangerous critters.
It took another pop to the chest to finish off the beast.
I have never seen one up close and I can honestly say that I have no desire to see one again.
Now, remember how Mocha sat down about 20 yards in front of me when the thing charged? After all of the commotion, she had not moved. That badger could have torn her apart...honestly.
We continued our walk with a cautious pace before calling it an evening. No birds, but an eventful walk indeed.
I drove around for awhile exploring the area. I fingured at this point I had nothing to lose. I already had had a wonderful day.
 I want a SD trifecta and stopped by a little lake for a waldo. As fall patterns generally dictate, the lake was on draw-down and the water level was down significantly. I casted for awhile before heading to the boat ramp. There was a guy there with 4 lines out on some manfangled rod set. GF&P pulled the dock so I called it a short run at walleyes.
 I was pulling a giant loop back to Clark when I remembered a public property I looked at when I was trying to find doves earlier in this fall. I did not remember it being as large as it was, but I figured I had nothing to lose as I can't shoot a rooster sitting on the couch at home. I figured with the long day we had already, Mocha was not going to want to get out of the car. She hopped right out and started hunting before I could even load my gun. We worked the edge of the CRP and busted a small buck from a dry slough. We jumped a hen mallard from an old pit and Mocha was confused as to why I didn't shoot. We went to the far end of the property before she got birdy. Once she was on it, there was no stopping her. She was hot on it's tail for about 40 yards before it finally broke. I had Michael Parker's little 20 gauge with me this time. First shot dropped a leg, second shot a complete whiff, and the third dropped him. At 60 yards that 20 gauge did a fine job. That particular gun shoots a little higher than what I was used to, and I was able to adjust.
I ran to catch up with the dog as I had marked the bird down, but she was off doing her own thing again. I have some deep seeded trust issues with this dog and was trying to call her back to my marked spot. What I didn't realize until I saw it pop up, was my rooster; I had not quite finished him off and needed my pup to do the job for me.

My first South Dakota rooster.

 After a quick water break it was back to the races. Shortly after pics another group started in on the other side of the property and were blasting away and closing in on us. Mocha flushed a hen, but no more roosters. We started our way back to the car, as I didn't know what this other group was doing. As I came back to the pit, the group was just off to my right and I was trying my best to not get blasted in the process. When they finally caught sight of me, one guys yelled across the CRP.
"You pheasant hunting!!??"
"YES"
"Just post and we will be right there!"
No birds flushed and we talked for a brief moment. They suggested that I join them on the loop back and they would give us a ride back to my car when we finished. I thanked them for inviting me and we continued back towards my car. They were able to pull another rooster down not 60 yards after we started walking again. We busted another larger buck from the deep grass. When we neared the road we turned and headed east. We got about halfway down when I smelled skunk..........
In less than 2 minutes Mocha was locked. I again have trust issues, and tried to call her off of it. Well, that "skunk" flushed out of the air not a couple feet from her muzzle. I popped the rooster in one fluid motion at 15 paces or less. That 20 gauge is the only thing that kept that bird from being hamburger. After fence hopping retrieve Mocha and I had a second rooster in hand. We finished the walk without shooting another, but a large savvy bird got the best of us all and flushed way out ahead. We ended up walking back to the car as I told the gentlemen that my old pup would not likely make the jump to the tailgate and I didn't figure an additional half-mile walk was going to hurt.

 After returning home I had Rachel take a few photos in front of our pumpkin patch.

This was truly a day on the prairie. We shot ducks, pheasants, badgers, cats. We saw deer, more ducks, geese, swans! These are the kinds of days I bank for when the shit hits the fan. These are the days we don't get very often. Hopefully, the next day I have like this, is when I can share it with someone. Thankfully, I was able to share my outdoor adventure with my dog. Mocha has become more than just a dog. Yes, she still reminds me (too often) that she is indeed a dog, but I sure enjoy watching her work the prairie.


Stay Tuned

Another Morning Duck Hunt

There is something to be said about getting out and hunting a spot that has such ease of access, that it seems like cheating. I have been reserved about it for who-knows what reason, but as usual, I needed to get out again.
After dropping off my bags of decoys and walking back to the spot, I began working on my decoy set. As I threw out each decoy, I knew what Dad meant about the 'magic'. I could see my Dad throwing these exact decoys out on a partially frozen slough with Jill in tow, shivering behind him waiting for the whistling wings, just like Mocha was doing today. At that moment, it didn't matter if I saw a duck the entire morning. I was enthralled with the notion that the 'magic' was in the memories. These decoys were more than just floating chunks of plastic. They were a windy, frozen, insane adventure, and at the same time, were also a warm lazy October afternoon, with teal buzzing in at random intervals.

As the legal light came, mallards started pouring into the center of my decoys. I let Mocha quiver for 20 minutes. I could not pick out drakes in the low light so I let them come and go. It was another 45 minutes before a duck finally buzzed through. It was a teal, which I was going to pass on, but as it crossed my set I saw green! Before he set his wings I dropped the little green-wing on the far side of the decoys. Mocha with the flawless retrieve.

I may not have been hammering them, but it was a beautiful day to lay in the reeds.

I was able to shoot two more screaming through teal, both of which ended up falling in the grass behind me, and again, Mocha found them!
It was a slower day that I had expected, but the wind was not perfect and I was watching a thousand ducks swirl the slough across the road. Every now and then a few would drop into the bowl across the slough I was on, but they were only high flyers around me. As I lay in the grass, I watch a flock of diver ramp the road, and beeline for my spread. At the last second possible I pop up and take my shots. I drop the first one and as the flock rises, I completely fold a second. Of course, I broke the rules...
These were divers, redheads to be exact, and you have to make sure they are dead-dead. As was the trend, Mocha was a quarter of the way out in the water before the second duck hit the mud. I watched as she neared the duck in the water, and it dove...Not good for a dog that has no idea what is going on. I watch it pop up about 50 yards farther out, and Mocha saw it too. It of course dove again and I did not see it again. I had to pull the pup off of it and convince her that the bird she was actually after was the one flopping on the shoreline. We were never able to recover the other one. Nevertheless, this was my first diver duck, a juvenile redhead drake!

I no more than got set back into my spot and had a pair of mallards dropping from the stratosphere on the near side of my spread. I drop the drake and let the hen fly on to make more ducks in the future. I would not have another duck come in the rest of the morning.
At noon I called it a morning and wrapped up the decoys.

As Mocha and I walked back to the car, she got birdy, and bolted in the brush. I followed her as she worked the wind and pointed 10 feet to my left. I nice, big, fat South Dakota rooster flushed right at me. I did the only logical thing I could think of. I emptied my gun. After doing some fantastic shooting on the duck slough, I whiffed all three shots without ruffling feather. Mocha stood at the top of the hill, looked back at me, and dropped her head before coming back. If my dog could flipped me the bird, she would have.


Of the days sitting in the treestand, this duck hunting thing borderline feels like cheating. It shouldn't be this enjoyable.
"Dad?" I get it now.




Stay Tuned

A Lesson in Ducks, and Memories Made

The greatest part about the slough we were hunting this morning was it's proximity to our apartment. It was a little over 2 miles from my front door, which meant we didn't have to get up at an unholy hour. I was able to pull the car right next to our spot, drop off all of our gear, and double back to park the car by the field approach. It really wasn't that far of a walk and we were slogging our way to our spot in no time. The lack of pre-scouting was now biting us. We were too far on the end of this small slough, and the water was well before the edge of the cattails. We ended up setting on an old muskrat hut, and I set out the birds while Dad collected the rest of our gear. We were getting buzzed by ducks the entire time. As usual, legal light came and went without any shots from us. There were a few shots in the distance that were at least 15 minutes before legal light. We couldn't even believe they could see to shoot...
At any rate, we waited for whatever large duck, would make its way into our spread within the sporadic grass. The first one to show dropped right on the outskirts of our spread was a wonderful full plummed drake mallard. I was in complete panic mode but Dad waited for me to jump and shoot. I pulled myself from the knee deep mud, and positioned for the shot. When he jumped I popped him with a well placed shot! After a team effort retrieve with Mocha we got our bird.

If you can't tell by my face, there were birds everywhere!
About 200 or so jumped off the far side of the slough after my shot and it was a swirl of whistling wings. We sat tight as we watched most of these birds work back into that pocket in pairs and small groups, and even a few large groups. They didn't even hesitate. We were going to sit tight for awhile anyway and see what happened.
Shortly after my mallard came in, a large beautiful drake pintail locked wings and dropped feet just on the outside of our spread. I didn't even pull my gun. Dad smoked him in another well placed shot!

After only another half hour or so, we made the decision to move. The birds continued to funnel into that same corner, and we needed to make an adjustment. The mud was not exactly conducive to reducing a minor heart attack, but we took our time and did it together. After collecting our things we made our way to the near side of the slough. We ended up less than 50 yards from the road but with the tall cattails, we could only see the passing combines behind us.
As we made our slow trudge to the waters edge, a errant flock of geese came out of nowhere and I was inundated with gear; it was all up to Dad.
One shot broke a wing, and the other finished him off. And then we heard the thump. The bird bounced right on the gravel road behind us. As I set out or decoy spread, Dad went and retrieved the goose. When he returned he was laughing as the landowner was 'rubber necking' as he drove by in the combine as he knew that dead goose wasn't there when he came through earlier that morning (around noon the landowner called me to ask me about that goose).
We waited what seemed like mere seconds before we had a pair of pintail come in. They were a little far out but we managed to scrap one down. It was a long retrieve that required me to assist the dog on the other side of the slough but we got it nevertheless. Again, not shortly after I got set back into my spot in the weeds, another big drake mallard came right into our spread.

We played this game for the remainder of the morning. Pairs and singles, one teal I just couldn't help myself with, and some great shooting, and some consistent retrieving I might add. We manged to fill a two man limit of pintail, two drake mallards, a spectacular pair of gadwalls, and three total teal. Again with the bonus teal, we were still short three ducks to our allowable limit. We decided on calling it at 11am so we could make it back for breakfast with the Mrs. I packed up decoys while Dad retrieved our vehicle.

We were beat, hungry, and on cloud nine. We got home and took one last pic with our birds in the boat.

We went to The Corner Diner here in town, but we were late enough that they were no longer serving breakfast, but a nice big cheeseburger hit the spot in the biggest way.
After a great meal, we went home and cleaned up our birds, and prepared ourselves for a wonderful afternoon nap; or so I thought. Dad was loading goose decoys into the duck-mobile, and was preparing for an afternoon hunt on the same field and slough we were pass shooting off of the night before.
Again, the access was too good to be true, and I was able pull right up to the water's edge and set out what decoys we wanted before I drove the car back to the road. We of course jumped a big flock of mallards off of the corner when we got there. Oh darn.
Now the actual napping commenced. Dad of course, took the first shift of napping. It didn't take long and I had ducks over me while the old man was out cold. I didn't dare shoot anything but a fat mallard so I held off. When he finally came to from his nap I just told him to stand slowly and jump one of the mallards out in front of us. It was some spectacular biffage. Not a feather was ruffled.
Dad gave me a sheepish look and waited for an opportunity for redemption. It took 10 minutes before another mallard dropped in and Dad made short work this time on a big fat mallard hen.

 Dad kept saying it was now my turn and he would only have it for me to shoot a big fat drake mallard. We waited for awhile and we had lots of birds around us but nothing was committing. Dad stood up and said, "well I have to pee so that will definitely bring the birds in." He no more than got his wader pulled down and I told him to get down. A large flock of mallards can in on a string. I waiting until the last second before the largest drake pegged me and the flock flared. He returned the favor and dropped him into the water with a perfect shot. 

We were enjoying ourselves so much that we just sat there and soaked it in. We planned for geese, and ended up filling the rest of our daily limit with two fat mallards. The geese never came in but there were flocks all around us. We could have killed another limit of mallards easily sitting there for another hour or so.
We called it a day and got some final pics.

When we got back to the apartment I put it upon myself to pluck these ducks. This was an undertaking that as usual, I had to discover myself even with Dad's advice to wait a few weeks. There are these small feathers on ducks called pin feathers, and they do not develop until mid November. Being early October, these ended in a few hours with tweezers and the sink.

The icing on the cake for our day, was walking in the door from a windy cool October day, to Rachel's magnificent chicken noodle soup brewing on the stove. We couldn't have picked a better day if we tried.

We had become consumed by the deer madness back in Iowa, and moving to South Dakota, I wanted a change-up to my outdoor en devours. When I discovered the amount and quality of waterfowl around here, I had flashbacks of hunting ducks and geese back when we were just kids. I remembered Dad's passion for it and I wanted more than anything to share this with him. I could not have planned it better myself if I tried again. I was able to learn a ton from a man that had seen many 'a marsh in his day, and I soaked up every second.

This will remain one of my more cherished adventures.



Stay Tuned

Pass Shooting with my Dad

With our busy schedules, it was a miracle that we are able to coordinate a weekend of waterfowl glory.
I had a short day on Friday and Dad came into town a little before 6pm. I wanted to show him the spots we had access to and maybe scout out our hunt for the morning. Well, as I couldn't have possibly imagined, Dad was geared up and ready to try an evening pass shoot. I was thinking something along the lines of an evening of quick scouting, and then maybe a nice dinner and a few cocktails.
Instead, we were grabbing granola bars and our shotguns, and we were out the door. I showed Dad the honey hole I was granted access to and the one I had been hunting so far. My activities from last weekend obviously had an affect on the amount of ducks out there, but I had a few more sloughs to check out. On the other side of the section there was another small shallow slough right off of the road. It was LOADED with ducks.
With the access we had, it was our plan A for the morning. I had one more spot to look at before heading home and I am glad we went out there. There was a perpetual swirl of mallards and other ducks before we even got out of the car. We collected our stuff and busted across the field to get set up between the field where the birds wanted to be, and a slough across the fence that was again, loaded with ducks. We sat in a depression and waiting for a close flock. We were taken by surprise when the birds were coming from all directions. There was a lower flock that we were finally able to prepare for and Dad called the shot.
We were able to pull out a bird each, and both drake mallards to boot!
We sat for a another half hour with a few more shots, but no more birds on the ground. It was a fantastic evening that I never would have done if Dad wasn't hunting like he was 18 again. There was a look in his eyes I had not seen in years. I remember it most when we hunting ducks and geese with Al in Canby. It was beyond enjoyable.

I had to get a pic with the two of us with my camera and new gorilla pod.

This was merely the start to a fantastic weekend of ducks galore. As we headed home Dad talked about the chances at a pintail as we saw quite a few tonight and I told him the chances were good as there were a bunch when I hunted last weekend. When we got back, Dad cleaned birds, and I made him some South Dakota walleye and onion-ed hashbrowns with peas. Shortly after cleaning our plates, it was off to bed. We had an early morning ahead of us...Well not that early...



Stay Tuned

Day 2 at the Marsh

I couldn't help myself, and I went right back out to the same slough for another morning hunt Sunday morning. I was still tired from the day before but I have to give it another go.

I again gave myself plenty of extra time for set-up as I brought the whole bag of decoys this time and I wanted to at least see the first flight happen. Again, I did not take my shots at first light. I waited to see what happened with the birds.

My activity the morning before had obviously changed their pattern some. It took a lot more convincing to get birds to commit to my spread. I figured I would again shoot whatever got close enough to work Mocha as much as possible. A few teal here and there and she did fantastic. It was a little windy and the birds that did come through had no troubles committing.
I had a great big gadwall drake come screaming in and drop right on the outskirts of my decoys. A single well placed shot and the bird was down. The main problem is if Mocha didn't see it, shed doesn't know it's there. I had to wade out into the slough to help her see it and once she did it was a good retrieve. Only problem was the water now filling my waders. I manged to poke a dime sized hole as I was helping the pup with the retrieve. Nevertheless, the weather was mild, and I had another beautiful duck in hand.

It was great to have Mocha on the marsh with me. She never really was a fantastic water dog, but her 'retirement' was what seemed like never-ending boredom for her. I took her out a few times before the season, and her reservations about water seems secondary to her desire to be out of the house.

I probably should have held off, but I did shoot a few shovelers, again, for the sake of that dog. I again, had a pair of honkers come right over my spread, but this time I biffed it and was only able to drop one of them. Mocha dashed into the water and dragged that fat goose back to me like a seasoned veteran. It was the icing on the cake.
I was short a few birds for my limit but I was tired and wanted a few pics before picking up and heading home.

 If you notice in these series of pics Mocha will not look at the camera.

I was reviewing the pics when I noticed this and I looked up. She was locked onto a duck that was stupid enough to sit in the spread while I was taking the pics. Moved out to flush it, popped it, and Mocha was already on her way out.

It was a fantastic end to great morning out!

I picked up my spread, took off my waders, and stuffed all of my extra gear into the decoy bag. I didn't realize how much gear I had until I needed to throw it on my back. I got all of 40 yards before I was sucking air. I just followed the same path I took the day before, but it almost seemed like a worse decision. I got to the west end of the slough and looked down. How I missed it the day before was beyond me.

 It was an older buck, that I later found out from the landowner, was clipped by his wife the year before. This buck spent the vast majority of this spring underwater and I was just there at the right time. I still can't believe I walked past it the day before....

 After adding more weight to my already excessive load, I was struggling to keep my feet. I fell sideways, and backwards, and at that point I was just flat out pissed. I am a 27 year old formidable man, and I was having my butt handed to me by some gear and excess fat. I was red-in-the-face mad, and I was not about to be beat. Fortunately, I was alone as every obscenity I shouldn't know were being gritted between my teeth. To top it off, Mocha would stop every ten steps, stop, look back at me screaming obscenities, and she would literally roll her eyes before continuing on. She has been watching the Mrs. way too much.

When I finally made it back to the field edge, I was in bad shape. Mocha just spent the morning slopping through deep mud and cold water, and she bounded around like she spent the day on the couch. I got back to the apartment and had Rachel take a few extra pics.

I knew I was tired, but after cleaning birds, drying out my gear, and eating a little something, I passed out in my chair for the rest of the afternoon. When I woke, I felt like garbage.

The marsh may have won this battle, but I am not out of ammunition.



Stay Tuned