I spent Friday evening packing my car with as many decoys as the thing could fit. The mornings forecast of weather was a golfers dream, but not exactly ideal for waterfowl. Warm and basically no wind. Nonetheless, I forged ahead with my hair-brained plan.
Lou and I blasted out early with a packed car in hopes of beating anyone else to the spot. It was almost December, everything was mostly frozen, and I was still concerned about other guys... I suppose we do call it interloper for a reason. As was honestly expected, there was no one but us there when we arrived. As I got out of the car, I went down to the slough edge to see walkable ice. That will work just fine and was what I expected. I was just going to place my decoys on the ice and hope to pull in a bird. As I dragged my gear out to the point, Lou got weird and stopped running out ahead of me. I forgot my headlamp, so of course, I could see nothing. As I called for her, a rooster flushed feet in front of me in the darkness. This pup doesn't care if it is daylight or not, she came to work.
When I arrived at the point I was astounded to find that it was completely open. The ice I found was just in the back bay, but the main slough was open. I had no water decoys and was at a loss as for what to do.
I dropped decoys, and hauled back to the car.
Lou and I blasted back home to collect my headlamp, and yet another bag of decoys for the morning. I scraped together a bag of floater mallards and gunned it back to the spot. I may have lost precious time, but at this time of the year, the birds will often stay on the roost much later in the morning. We could hear the constant squawking of the snow geese on the roost to the southwest. I got everything set up and the blind brushed in and we were greeted with a beautiful sunrise on the slough.
This snow geese flitted around in waves. For those that have not been apart of a migration, it really is a site to see. The mallards and geese in the area really know where they want to be and where they want to go, I was just hoping to intercept one along the way. Thousands of mallards dropped into a pocket to the west. Hundreds of thousands of snow geese were working field to the south. I didn't care if I pulled the trigger once; this was spectacular!
Most of the morning was spent trying to coax singles and small flocks to no avail. What surprised me the most is, the water was completely open when we arrived this morning, but by 8am, there was already some significant skim ice across the entire slough. I got up a few times to break open my spot and let what little wind there was, move my decoys even if ever so slightly.
A little before 8:30, Lou bolted upright in the blind, and we were blindsided by a pair of whistling goldeneyes.
I popped up to shoot as they passed, but didn't take the shot. I pulled the blind back down in hopes they would make another swing and come in. I haul Lou back in, gave them a couple of soft quacks, and they turned. As the rounded the entire slough, they were inches off of the ice coming in fast. I slowly opened one side of the blind and they pulled left behind me. I took a single shot, half upside down, behind me, and dropped the larger of the two drakes into the grass. As the other bird looped around behind and to now my right, I righted myself in the blind and took another single shot at the passing bird. One lucky BB found its mark and it dropped into the icy water in front of us. Lou was off to the races and commenced her screaming. Now, to a normal person, you would think I was subjecting my dog to cruel temps as she was breaking ice with every sweep of her legs. The screaming however is not from the cold or the ice, its because she gets so damn excited those first few retrieves that she screams in frustration that she can't get to them fast enough! Upon returning, she dropped the bird at the foot of the blind and popped back in, awaiting another chance to go get something.
My flurry of shots awoke the beast, and a cloud of mallards and snow geese ascended from their secluded roost pocket. I was unable to pull any birds from the masses, and I even tried a pop shot at some passers, but nothing came down.
As the morning wore on, it was fun to watch the birds, but it was starting to become painful. With the sun directly in front of us, no wind, and skim ice to blast it from below, my eyes were fried. I was starting to get severe pain behind my right eye. As I lay in the blind trying to avoid being blinded, a single snow goose came out of nowhere. As he skirted my set to the west, I opened up the blind for a doable passing shot. As I opened up the blind, Lou didn't get out as expected and my legs got tied up with her. I was unable to turn around so I did what anyone would do; I tried to shoot him left handed. My first shot whiffed horribly, and my super sonic shells dang-near knocked the gun out of my hands, which made for a painful second shot. My gun wasn't even on my shoulder, instead it was right on my bicep which took the brunt of that shot. I figured this was as good of a time as any to call it a morning. Most of the birds were out for the morning, and I was walking away with two beautiful bucket-lister birds.
Because I went back for more decoys, it took me a couple of trips to get everything back to the car. Once everything was collected, Lou and I walked the little section of public, just in case there was a sneaky pheasant out here.
With no bonus pheasant, it was time to call it a day, and what a day it was.
The deer thing did set me back a bit this year, and I was far more discouraged than I thought I would be, but I had some hiccups along the way. Every time I doubled back to ducks, it was like a weight being lifted from my shoulders. It is because of that feeling that I should not have to care what other people say or think about me deer hunting or not. Just because they do, does not mean I need to as well. This duck hunt was in every way possible, therapeutic. It was magical to set out the decoys, while listening to the low drone of thousands of snow geese. There are few things I have enjoyed more in the outdoors than watching waterfowl. There is so much diversity in their actions, and in their everyday movements. The array of colors and beauty in a bird in hand is rivaled by nothing.
What was likely the last waterfowl hunt of my season, was by far the most influential. Though next season will not be as involved as this one, I will find my way to the laughter of the wind.
Stay Tuned
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