As I have stated before, this waterfowl thing has definitely taken a foothold in my soul. Once I get started, there is no stopping. Scouting, bullets, decoys, more scouting, butchering, marinating, feasting, more scouting, and hunting. This is what makes it so much fun. We don't need to shoot a bazillion birds to enjoy the season.
While scouting for the next round, I happened to run into the other duck hunter that had gotten permission for our original field. While I was at the top of the hill glassing, he pulled into the field approach and began talking with Dad. He again wanted to hunt the field and wondered if we wanted to join. Because it was just him this time, I relented and Dad and I agreed to hunt with him on this field in the morning. Because we cannot drive on this field, we had to tote our gear out to the fenceline. With it being most of his designer decoys, and blind, we were merely taking advantage of the gear usage. As the sun rose again in the east, we could hear the birds using the slough behind us and it was only a matter of time before they started trickling into our spread. With the wind wrong, the sun wrong, and pretty much in the wrong spot, the birds weren't even taking a second look. We were making great shots, close shots, and taking full advantage of our fenceline hide. What started out slow turned into a full blown mallard shoot! The three of us did not expect to fill a three man limit with how slow things started, but before we knew it, we had a three-man limit of mallards. As our hunt concluded, photos were a must.
This was a great shoot indeed but Dad and I learned how much we appreciate hunts when it is either just the two of us, or the right people. We appreciate the coffee, sunrise, dogwork, and whistling wings. We are not necessarily in for limits.
This guy spent most of our hunt trying to sell us on his pro-staffer discount, talking about my lack of discipline in training Lou, and how he is looking to kill 1000 birds this season by "guiding". When it came to dividing out the birds at the conclusion of our hunt, he refused to take any hens or drakes without curls, as they are inferior and don't make him look good. This was the tipping point for me. First, and last time I was to hunt with this guy. I know, I suck at making friends, but I hate people....
By the end of the evening, this guy already had another crew of 8 guys lined up to hunt the field AGAIN. This would be the third hunt in three days for this guy on this field. Dad and I have worked hard to not blow this spot so I was rather disheartened. I tried reasoning with the guy but he railroaded me before I could say "game hog".
That was my last straw. When we got permission on this spot it was my understanding it was just us. I didn't feel like fighting it anymore so I told the landowner that I didn't appreciate being railroaded by this guy and that Dad and I were going to bow out. We just can't compete with "the outfitter".
Dad called in the greatest game of poker ever, I call it being honest with people. The landowner agreed to let the guy and his crew hunt the next morning, and then he was out on this property. I wasn't trying to start a fight with this other guy but he came at me aggressively after being informed he was out. I felt a little bad, but I didn't at the same time. He had spots lined up all over the county. This was the one field Dad and I could always could on.
I am looking forward to getting back out on a hunt where al I need to enjoy myself is boots on my feet, and a sky above me.
Stay Tuned
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