Now, while we sat just off of the icy road, he questioned where we were going to hunt in the morning and if we were going to hunt that close to the roost water again. I told him, I really didn't know, and that the landowner was not pleased about their decoys on his field. I gave this guy the landowners number and let them hash it out (received a text later that even from the landowner stating there will be no more issues in the future).
Once Assy-Mc-Asshat left, we could get back to business and continue our scouting mission. We found birds and a lot of them, but they were on the far side. It was going to be the completely backwards wind the next morning, but we decided this was plan-A anyway.
Fast forward to the morning of the hunt. With gear and decoys collected we loaded up and fully expected to not be there first. Even with having to turn around for my facemask, we arrived at the slough with nary a track down the access road. As my waders were still not exactly in working order, Dad was the decoy man, and I worked on brushing in blinds. Cloudy skies, a mild wind from the SE, and few birds working the area. Before the sun even came up we were already having blast. As I kind of expected with a backwards wind, the birds did not work exactly as planned. Dad determined after a few flocks flared hard that the mojo mallard was not helping our situation and he pulled it from the spread. We were able to pull down a few small bufflehead that squared off in front of us. We had multiple occasions where birds would swim the point out in front of us. We even had our pair of bluebills swim right in front of us, between our set and shore. These birds were so dumb, they wouldn't flush off of the water with both Dad and I waving our arms above us. We were not about to swat them on the water, so they lived to fly south another day.
We had three bufflehead to our name and not much else was working close enough (that we had time to react to) but there were birds everywhere. After dropping another butterball into our spread I was blown away by a small group of low flying swans to my right. They were coming right up the gut and were going to be easily in range. BUT....These birds are smart and once they caught sight of Lou retrieving our downed duck, they altered course and faded out farther into the slough in front of us.
Dad and I sat in our blinds for the better part of an hour enjoying each other's company, and sometimes enjoying the water lapping upon the shoreline in front of us. It was a beautiful cloudy morning to be out, once again, enjoying the waterfowl world.
They took us both by surprise.
In one fluid motion I flip the blinds open and pick out the largest of the flock.
A flock of swans came in from behind us, and their silent flight made them stealth bombers.
I let Big Ben bark.
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
By the third shot they were all of 70+ yards away, but the largest in the middle fell from the flock!
Dad and I were both as surprised as the other that one came down. The tundra swan hit the water with such a resounding splash that it sounding like another gunshot, and was likely what finished the bird off. I reloaded as quickly as possible as I figured the bird would likely still be alive. As I worked the shoreline as close as possible I could see no follow up shot was going to be needed.
Dad and I stood there in complete and utter disbelief.
DID THAT JUST REALLY HAPPEN???????????
I was dumbstruck by the whole scenario. I would go between giggle-fits, and tongue-tied silence. This was the second buckle-list species in two days, and this bird was gigantic! Once the wheels started grinding back into gear we went into recovery mode. It was the day of backwards wind, and this was the greatest blessing of the day. Because the wind was out of the SE, instead of blowing the bird away into the slough in front of us, it literally blew it back to our shoreline.
By the time the bird hit the water, it was all of 100 yards out in the freezing water. As my father was the only one with waders he was going to have to assist with the recovery because I wanted to wait no longer. He was unable to get even close to it as the water was far deeper than expected. All this meant is that I needed to suppress my inner-child and go back to having the patience of a functioning adult....
But I didn't wanna.....
The game plan was to keep hunting and pick it up when we were done hunting. The trajectory of the wind was miraculously going to blow it right back to the car. We couldn't have ordered it better ourselves. After fidgeting in the blind for fifteen minutes, I had had enough; we must go get it. Camera gear, and guns in tow, we made our way back to the car. By the time we got there, Dad had to only go out 20 yards or so. I should have waited, but this was the booner of waterfowl.
Upon tagging the specimen, we were able to revel in the moment. Some people shoot big deer, some catch giant fish, it was legal, so I had to give it a chance, and by pure, dumb luck, I was able to harvest my first tundra swan.
There was plenty of hunt ahead of us, although it felt like we were already done, but we headed back to the blind with the swan, in hopes we could pull in another diver or two. By noon, we had another butterball in the bag, but there was just not a lot going on. We packed up camp and as tradition dictates, took our photos.
I never thought when I moved to South Dakota that I would someday shoot a swan. Have I gotten some negative feedback so far for shooting a swan? Yes, but these are managed in the same way the ducks, geese, and even deer are managed, with sustainable harvest in mind. Even Dad said really didn't have the desire to shoot a swan, but he was just as excited to be apart of the ordeal as I was.
The reality? This bird was like nothing I have seen or experienced before. Luckily, I was in the right place at the right time. To drop a goose from heights only my Uncle Al could drop them, the bird would bounce five feet off of the ground and shake your chest. To drop a swan from 70 yards onto water was like slapping a wet ham with a Volkswagen. I have day dreamed the scenario over and over, and was blessed to have my Dad there to share the experience, but there was no way to expect everything to go the way it did.
I wish I could stare up at thing from my comfy couch at home, but I chose to remain married instead. I clean up the bird and took the necessary measurements.
22 pounds 3 ounces.
5' 6" from beak to tail
6' 6" wingspan.
I am no ornithologist, so I cannot get a definitive age, but the small yellow spot on the beak indicates an adult bird. I am not sure how this mammoth bird will taste, but it is in my freezer awaiting some adventurous guests.
I'm afraid I have burned up a year's worth of positive karma in the last two days.....
Stay Tuned
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