Because the birds worked all day, Dad pleaded with me to let him sleep a little longer this morning. The spot was closer, we had a better plan, and I wasn't going to get lost this time. I succeeded, and granted an extra half hour in the morning. I just don't like setting up with birds whizzing around my head.
We took our time, Dad got his allotted half-hour, and we were loaded and out the door. I wouldn't go as far as to say we had a better plan, but yesterday acted like a dry run. We got out to the spot with plenty of time to setup, and in fact, we were in our blinds five minutes before legal light. We were far more efficient the second time around and it worked out quick well. Our goal for this hunt was to be a little more selective; greenheads and pintails. We could shoot a bonus bird other than mallards each and sprig were the only suitors for the day.
It of course did not take too long for the birds to start piling in. We dropped birds in singles, pairs and a greenhead out of a group if there was one. I did scratch down a hen in a flurry of a group, thus throwing off only greenheads, but hey, I got it. Dad was shooting rather marginally this day for whatever reason, but yesterday kind of him back into a teenager. He was flustered and taking shots that could have waited. He was pulling a few down and we were getting our birds, but a little slower today. At one point, we had a pair of drakes come in feet down in the spread and when I called the shot, I dropped the first one, and didn't even wait for Dad to shoot the second. I pasted the second and Dad was in radar-lock a split second slower and as the bird was already folded and dropping, Dad gave him another dose of steel. It's hard to describe the moment, but we had a great laugh over it.
We did our best to screw up a couple chances at geese again, and we really have no valid excuses. It was just not our day for geese. Towards the end of our hunt, we had a flock of widgeons working the spread over and over again. It was a site to watch them maple-leaf their way down, drop landing gear, and then peel off for another run at it. On the last loop at the last possible second for a shot, Dad and I picked out a drake pintail on the far side of the flock. I was quicker to the draw and was able to JUST pull the bird down. As he sailed down the fenceline, Lou was hot on his tail. An easy retrieve for Lou and I had my bonus bird.
With yesterday being a dark, spitting rain kind of a day, this was a complete 180 in terms of weather and birds. There were far fewer birds (partially because we blasted a lot out the day before) and the birds worked early and then spent the rest of the day on the water. Bluebird skies made for a beautiful morning, but our hunt seemed to fizzle much quicker. We decided to pull the plug three birds short, but the thought of breakfast out-ruled a possible all day sit to finish three birds. We took down our set, and took some spectacular pics of our fabulous day.
Lou decided she didn't want to be done.
It has always been wonderful to share these outdoor experiences with someone, but it meant a lot to me to share these field hunts with my Dad. We have shot puddle ducks and pinnies on widow-maker mud, we have shot canvasbacks on bigger open water, we have even scraped a few geese to the water, but we had not done a true field hunt yet, let alone TWO legendary mallard shoots. These are the kinds of hunts we try to replicate for years to come as they seem far too easy, and far too astonishing to be reality. Yes, we will romanticize these hunts for the rest of our lives, but that is why we do this.
Stay Tuned
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