Veteran's Day Ducks 2.0

As I finished my drive home from Cochrane's with my buck on the tailgate, I got a call from my insurance guy, who's property we hunted last year and harvested those canvasbacks. He had not allowed me to hunt there yet this year because his son was bow hunting and he didn't want us in there. No harm no foul, it is his property. Well, it just so happened that his son was going to be out of town Friday (Veteran's Day) and he said we could go ahead and hunt out there if we still wanted. I called Dad right away and told him the situation and that if he could swing it, to change his plans. An affirmative answer and we were game on for another Veteran's Day duck hunt.


We got out to our spot at first light, and as usual for this spot, we busted a large number of ducks, geese, and the elusive swans. As I set out our decoy spread, Dad took the car back to the road. This year we did not have nearly the weather in our favor, and we had a blasting sun in our face. We made it work, and were still successful in our morning's hunt. A pair of low flying honkers made the mistake of flying directly overhead. I was able to lay the smack down on the first one, and somehow, the other was able to fly away unscathed. We were able to decoy some mallards but they kept skirting our setup and dropping in to the east. One group came in a little too close and I was able to drop a pair. Mocha was able to retrieve both birds, but it was considerably laborious for the old hound. Dad smoked a drake that dropped right into our spread and I jumped another skirting bird. There were two blown opportunities on my part in which I did not get BB shells switched over fast enough for one, and they came in right overhead, and then into the sun the second. Swans....I was not sick to my stomach but close.


Once the wind died down, and I mean glass slough dead, the action ceased completely. We ended up calling it a morning shoot and we took some pics of our morning success.

I decided that with the fleeting chance at a swan, I would take Dad back home, and return to the slough. This way Dad could get to Cochrane's for an evening in a treestand, and I would have a chance at an afternoon bird or two. Again, the wind died down, and there was nothing happening. The only other opportunity awoke me from a nap as I heard ripping wings above me. I awoke with a snap to see a grand greenhead with wings cupped and feet down. I didn't even stand up from my chair.


BOOM!


If I had stood up from the shot, I could have caught him on the way down. He splashed into the water in front of us and Mocha just looked at it. She took two steps, picked it up and dropped it at my feet.

I sat the remainder of the afternoon without so much of feather. I then get a call...Landowner wants to know how the morning hunt went. I told him it was slow but I was still out here waiting for an errant bird. I was informed that his son was getting into the treestand right now, and that he thought I would have been done and long gone by noon..... I haul ass collecting my gear and decoys and again, do not bother to drive the car to the corner where I could load up and go. I collect and run. I was beyond gassed and dragging the deer seemed like a walk in the park compared to the wader slogging, decoy bag hell I was enduring. From call to car took less than 20 minutes for a 45 minute job. I really hope I did not cook my goose on this one, but I guess we will have to see.


Lesson learned: have the parameters of permission SPELLED OUT. I am not a man that can interpret gray very well...


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The Campsite Buck

Given the time of year, I scheduled some much needed vacation time in a treestand. Yes, I did spend time hunting on the ground as well as hunting for feathered creatures, but there is something to be said about sitting in the trees. Many a soul searching and revelations have occurred whilst perched amongst the stout limbs of a hardwood tree. I began my rut hunts around home, on the ground, and was greeted by pickup trucks and unruly public land hunters. I knew that I was in need of an escape, even though I was already out and about. With vacation days to burn up, I hatched a plan to spend much of my time at Cochrane's. Now, the kicker of it all was, the week before, Dad and Uncle Al got a wild hair and decided to put up some treestands. Before the day was over, I received three separate messages of new stand locations on the property. I was elated and beyond grateful!


Wednesday of my five-day-vacay I drove from home early in the morning and was in the stand near the old Methodist camp a few minutes after legal shooting time. I had no more than gotten settled and three does came right into my setup. They were just on the outskirts of my range and were partially obscured by brush. I watched as they milled around my stand for 20 minutes before the largest of the group decided to bed down where she stood. It was almost an hour before anymore action occurred. With the cattle crashing around behind me, I was unsure of how the deer would react, but their body language was of caution, but familiarity. All at once, all three heads swiveled to the north and I stood up to prepare. Seconds after standing, a small buck popped through the opening and locked right into the first doe. He stood for 2-3 minutes before breaking at full bore. The does scattered, and the little buck was on their tail. For an hour this little fork-horn buck chased these does around my little section. Four times, I drew my bow for a shot, but the buck was not stopping for anything. In the end the does finally evaded him, and he made one last loop out in the pasture opening before retreating to the far east side. By noon I was hungry and needed to stretch so I headed to Al and Karin's for the pole saw, and scarfed my sandwich on the way there.


One of the stands Dad and Al put up is in the section of timber where I shot my turkey this last spring. In fact, the tree in front of the treestand is likely the one he was roosted in the morning I harvested him. It is a wicked setup, not exactly kid friendly, but a nosebleeder indeed. Dad ended up leaving one section of ladder out of the stand and it is still 20ft in the air...


I sweated through trimming lanes for the stand with the pole saw and my hand saw and eventually sat down for my evening sit. The setup is comfortable, and very picturesque, but I just did not have a deer-y vibe about it.

45 minutes before legal light expired, I watch a streak blow through the pinch point ahead of me. I figured there was no way they were coming my way, but in four short minutes, there were two does coming right down my trail towards me. The first one skirted through without me moving and when the second stopped in a pocket at 30 yards I drew back my bow. For whatever reason, I couldn't do it. I couldn't shoot. She and the other deer continue on their way but get edgy as a cow decides to work her way down the trail. both deer jump the fence and are not only directly behind me, but directly downwind. I expected that to be the end of the show. Instead, the larger of the two does comes closer. She ends up underneath my tree, and begins browsing on the tree branches that I had trimmed a couple of hours prior. Even with her being that close there was no shot. I told myself "if she goes into the corn field I will shoot this time".


Off to the field she goes.


"Ok, well, she needs to go left before I even think about it".


Left she turns.


I draw my bow, but cannot even move my finger towards the trigger. She is not broadside enough for a perfect shot. The reality was, she could not have presented a better broadside shot, I just couldn't fill my tag, on a doe, on the first day of my five-day-vacay. I again, let her walk. She comes back into the woods only to get wigged out by the cows and the swirling wind, and the pair decided it was best to just bust out of there. I regained my composure, collected my things, and inched my way down the tree.


What a spectacular way to start my treestand hunts!!!


The next morning was the same situation but with a different wind. I figured the campsite stand was productive the first morning, I may as well give it another morning shot. I got to my stand as usual, a little after shooting light. I dipped my pee sticks (nasty but effective) on each side of the stand, and climbed back in. I put on all of my gear, got everything hung on pegs, test drew my bow and settled in for morning magic. I set my bow on my lap and looked down.


Buck.


A small buck had crept in on me while I was prepping myself in the stand and was licking the first pee stick I hanging on a branch. I drew my bow, went to slap the release and stopped to take deep breath first. I have had poor luck with composure in the past, and I had spent a lot of hours working on it. I set my finger on the trigger, settled the pin in the sweet spot, and let the tension of my shoulders release the arrow.


SMACK!!!


My arrow went exactly where it was supposed to go. No tracking odyssey, no biffed shot.


He ran 60 yards, before I heard a crash. I knew he was down before he even stopped running. I could not believe how fast it happened. I sat there and literally looked around like, "That's it? I just got here!!!"


I felt great to make a perfect shot again. It has been year since I have had a no heartburn shot and this one fit the bill. I commenced to recollect my stuff, and slowly descend the tree I had gotten into not ten minutes ago.


I pack all of my stuff up and follow my bloodtrail.

He went all of 60 yards as predicted before not making it across the pasture.

After my picture taking as usual, I field dressed him, noting my perfect double lung shot, and decided as I usually do, to drag him out of there myself. He was less than 10ft from the road leading up through the pasture. I could have driven the car right to him if I had so chosen, but I have always felt it part of my penance for taking the life of the creature to at least exert myself by dragging him back to the car. I paused between blinky-stars but a few times, to both not pass out, and to soak in my morning.

I was gassed by the time I got to the road, but I was satisfied and glad I didn't just drive down to him. I walked the rest of the route back to the car and backed it up to the fenceline. I did the only logical thing I could think of at this time, and that was load him right onto the trunk of the Taurus. I believe this is the first deer this car has hauled, a right of passage for hunting vehicles.

I stopped by the house to show Al. Brian and family were there to see as well. With the climbing temps I had a decision to make, and I ended up electing to drive it home and butcher as soon as possible instead of hanging it in the shed.



No, this was not the largest buck I have ever harvested, but South Dakota deer hunting has kicked my butt. It was wonderful to finally put one in the freezer again, and after eating all of this duck; I have a true appreciation for fresh venison.




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What to do, What to do

As work has dictated, I have some flex time depending on what the week has in store and midweek I had time again. I took the morning to try another spot with my bow, and found myself at the small area around Bailey's Lake. There were a ton of ducks, but it proved slow for deer. Shortly before I was going to call it a morning, a nice buck crossed the pasture in the adjacent property. I tried rattling but he was having none of that and made a hasty retreat.

With such a mild November day, I had guilt that I would not be doing anything hunting related, as it seemed to warm for ducks, and the deer were definitely not cooperating. So, I cleaned some crap out of the boat, and headed for Indian Springs.

 It was a leisure float around and I was able to pick up a couple of small pike alone the way.

 I tried all of my secret spots but the fishing was rather slow, and most of the places I tried was a little muddy because of the coot activity. At the point  of the bay where Michael and I ice fished last year, I found a lone weed bed, and I knew there would be a fish there. It did not disappoint. It wasn't a monster gator, but it reached my 30" mark.

I cannot remember the last time, even if there is one, in which I have caught a fish in early November. My outdoor adventures have revolved around deer for too long. It was still my last open water outing for the year, but it has me stoked for hard water tip-up season.



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Mocha does the work, Tallulah tries to take credit

Another evening brought fair weather and deer hunting doldrums. Rachel suggested I take the little termite out for an evening stomp. Our first walk took us to Rachel's old boss's shelterbelt. The corn was out and it was a great opportunity to stretch some legs. About half-way through, Tallulah decided that she wanted to play a running game and took a corn row and bolted. I had to haul after her as 'come' is still a command we are working on....

After collecting the furball, we continued our walk to the end without a bird, we found some corn rows and turned our way back. I was not optimistic, but I have shot plenty of roosters in cut corn fields. At the end of the field in the fallow area around the gravel pit, a lone young rooster flushed wild, and I was unable to pull him down. We were near the car so we collected ourselves and hauled out of there for another spot. Our usual spot has plenty of birds, but they generally don't come out until later due to the standing corn across the road. As the sun goes down they start filtering back into the prairie and that is where we do some slow sneaking on them just before sundown. As we worked to field near the gravel road, Mocha finally pegged one. She pointed, broke, and took off. I did everything I could to keep up as I knew that bird was feet in front of her. By the time I finally caught sight of the rooster, Mocha had pulled a loop again and was chasing the bird right back to me. When he flushed right in front of me I was able to make a great shot with no chasing afterwards. We continued the loop and another rooster had played this game before, and flushed wild 100 yards out. With less than 15 minutes before end of legal we called it an evening and made our way back to the car. We watched as birds poured into the field near where we started, but no roosters in sight. Mocha was having a blast flushing hens left and right in the last leg of our walk. She thought it was the greatest day ever!

When we got home I needed to get photo with my two mutts as this was Lou's first hunt in which we got a bird. She did not know what to think at first when I showed her the rooster out in the field but by the time w got home, she was ready to claim it as her prize.

Mocha knew that she had done the work and got rather huffy with Lou when she tried to run off with the bird while we were sitting there. That was Lou's bird and she wanted everyone to know it, but she was going to have to get through Mocha first....She was a little testy about it.

Another rooster that did not make it to the freezer!



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2016 Pumpkin Lobotomies

'Tis the season for pumpkin carving as we do every year! Rachel picked some great stencils and we spent the afternoon and evening cutting away. Rachel was courteous enough to do all of the pumpkin gutting. I can clean a trucker's restroom, gut a deer, and change a diaper, but gutting pumpkins crosses the line.

Cheshire Cat midway through.

When it was all said and done, we had another great lineup for the year! Rachel again, blew me out of the water with her Groot.

 Poop emoji

 

The Lorax

 The Moustache

 Cheshire Cat

 Rachel's Spider Web

It amazes me every year how many of these things we can do in an evening and we continue to crank out great pumpkins! Until next Halloween;

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Late Evening Roosters

With all that has been going on with trying to acquire a house, I was a different level of fried, so Monday after work I hauled home to collect some gear and get out to walk with Mocha. I was far less worried about finding a rooster as I was bearing down to blow off some steam. I wanted a walk, and I figured this was about a good of an opportunity to be semi-productive in the process. Mocha and I walked the far outer rim of most of the small section we were on before she even came close to being birdy. Instead of gridding like one would try, I just followed the brown dog. Where ever she went, I followed. I could tell when she finally found scent of a bird. Her demeanor changed. Her head was down, and she was on a mission. I did my best to keep up with her as this bird was on the move. We covered almost 500 yards before she came to a halt. She paused. In her face went and no bird came up. She looked up and me, then bolted, she tracked a giant loop around and behind me and proceeded to flush the bird right at my face. I was so flummoxed that I almost dropped my gun. I was able to shoulder and squeeze off a round at the escaping rooster.

BOOM!

Down he tumbled into the prairie. Mocha retrieve the kicking bird without my feet taking another step. This dog may not have the stamina or the nose that she used too, but dang is she smart!

We continued our loop and she never really got birdy again for a couple of runs through the field. At one point I could hear the roosters cackling by the roadside near the unpicked cornfield. As we continued back towards the car, birds starting flying back into the deep grass strip in front of us. We were able to find a couple of hens, but the roosters were pressured and were flushing wild 100 yards ahead. I turned to get out of the grass and Mocha showed signs again. This time I chased her down as she tailed a bird. Another wild flush and no shots. We were doubling back and she locked up not 20 yards outs. Out bursts a group of birds and I try dropping the first rooster. My third shot connects and Mocha is off after it. Four more pour out of the small pocket and I drop a second rooster. As I collect the second bird, two more roosters flush 5 yards from me. It was WILD!!! I go over to Mocha to help her find the first bird of the group and we were struggling.... I have a suspicion that my shot merely knocked it down but did not actually kill it. We searched for 30 minutes while the last of our legal light expired. No Dice.


I always hate losing a bird, and in hindsight, I should have collected that bird first, but in the flurry I was certain Mocha was on top of it.
Oh well.


We finished our small walk back to the car and called it a successful first rooster outing.

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