"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.


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