The Last Moment

Saturday, January 24---Afternoon

Flip and I returned to the creek an hour before sunset. We slipped up George's side of the creek and down Edward's....good chance to do some remedial schooling on staying at "heel" with distractions abounding. We flared a couple dozen mallards from the current in the swamp below a beaver dam. They got up at about thirty yards or so from us, but I decided to watch rather than shoot. Flip looked up with a question in his eye, but he stayed at heel....good boy.

We recrossed the creek at the lower honey-hole dam right at the end of legal time (just as if I planned it that way). I unloaded and we sat together on the dam sharing the last of the fading sun. We were in that calm stillness of sunset, when even the winter wind lays down for twenty minutes or so, and I reflected on friends, family, and the simple blessings of country living. It's been a good duck season.....who better to share it with than Dad and the Lindsays?

Back at the truck, I set up the tripod and took a few shots looking South and West. We watched several flights of ducks getting up from various points all up and down the creek, wheeling in the sunset and heading west, toward who knows where.....

By now, Flip, safely bundled in the truck seat, looked bored with it all and ready for his supper, so I packed up the camera gear and called it a season. Time's left for rabbits and geese, then we'll begin planning bird plots for next dove season....not a bad year, all in all.

Frankenduk

Cris shot this duck Saturday morning. It's obviously a hybrid of one flavor or another. Both Black ducks and Mallards are prolific crossbreeders, and this behavior is often cited as a potential contributor to declining black duck numbers. We speculated for some time about what the parents of this duck might have been, checked a few websites, and couldn't agree. Dad's theory was a Mallard and Pintail. Mine a Black and Muscovy. We'll never be sure, I suppose.

I sent these pictures and a description to Gary Costanzo, Migratory Game Bird Program Manager at VDGIF. His best guess is Dad's correct...Pintail/Mallard. His argument is the large amount of white on the chest and neck, shape and color of the head, and lack of purple in the speculum point suspicion at a Pintail and Mallard as parents. Gary sent a great picture of an obvious Pintail/Mallard cross. If he gives me permission, I'll post that pic up here later.

One thing's for certain....it's an oddity. Anybody else want to pile on and place an entry in the 2009 "Who's Yo Daddy" duck quiz? Hit the comment button and give us your best guess. Try to keep it clean please, and give us the rationale for your choice.

Here's another conundrum to consider: if I can shoot five ducks per day, with only four allowed to be Mallards, and let's say I've already shot four Mallards.......or my limit of Pintails.....what do we count a duck like this as?.....hmmmm.....

Last Ducks This Season

Saturday, January 24

There's been just enough thaw to open a little patch up the creek...moving into place through the darkness the only sound is cold water flowing over the beaver dam thirty yards on our left. The temperature's comfortable and dull clouds overhead seem to muffle all sounds...skating on waders I work to the open water and set up the Mojo and a couple of black decoys. Cris and Christiane have joined us for this, the last morning of the duck season. Still trying to balance my way across the ice, dodging the dog who's skittering ahead, then underfoot, behind me I hear a thud and a curse. Cris has tumbled over his dove stool backwards into the mud. He flails for a minute like a junebug on its back before righting himself onto the stool. I hear giggles from behind gloved hands, first Christiane, then Dad....

Flip and I set up on the left, Dad on the right, Cris and Christiane in between...and we wait. This is the quiet, expectant time...each of us knit together as hunters have been for thousands of years, and also alone with our thoughts. This time before the light, before the ducks and guns, is calm, thoughtful, and comfortable. It's one of those parts of hunting I can't explain to the uninitiated, and wouldn't really care to try if I could. Just before legal time I hear the first circling quacks and chuckles. The first group of four or five pitches in just after legal...I take one fat greenhead and Flip makes a quick retrieve. By now we're covered in ducks. Threes, tens, big groups all pile in without regard for the splashing dog and wading handler. Cris puts one in the thicket behind me, then two more out front. Dad another, and we have four down nearly at once, all drakes. Flip does his job like the thoroughbred he is.

After working Flip on the birds I end up near Cris and squat in front on the ice as another bunch works its way in. As they flare, Cris kills one more, a funky hybrid of some sort that none of us can identify.

Then, as quickly as it began, it's over. If we were ballplayers, we'd be high fiving like crazy over the shooting we just shared....but we're not ballplayers...we're hunters, so we stand and savor the moment as we watch the light fill the swamp and warm the ice. Christiane's popped her first caps at ducks....cool! I pick up Mr. Mojo for the last time and begin to contemplate breakfast and benelli cleaning. What a great day! What great friends to share it with!

jts

The Mob after the Hunt

Was That Fun, or What?

Oh Vanna....!

Tres Hombres Benelli....Ole!

What a Great Day!

Yep, M. R. Ducks

Three Below

Saturday, Jan. 17

This from the NWS and Weatherunderground.com

Louisa - Northside, Louisa, Virginia (PWS)
-3.1 °F
Clear
Windchill:
-3 °F
Humidity:
81%
Dew Point:
-8 °F

I didn't know we lived in Alberta...

Too cold to take the camera. Dad and I set up on the only open water we found, a small piece below a beaver dam about the size of our dining room. Cold, cold, cold. Didn't see bird one, so quit early and here we are back at the house at 0733.

Last Doves

Saturday, January 10

Dad and I hit the same spot as yesterday. Nothin'. Dad shot at one high flyer that was circling and really wanted in across the creek....desperation shot. Funny how much difference one day can make. Yesterday we saw maybe a hundred birds in there...today, nada.

Perry slipped in behind us and farther down the creek. I flushed a hen mallard from the swamp straight to him. He said it was the first bird he'd shot in three years. Never thought I'd see a three year drought with one of those brothers....we all get busy with softball or other things our kids are doing. It was nice to see him there. Root's getting pretty old and gimpy...Perry says he's twelve...old Labrador.

Sparks has closed for good. There'll probably be more of that with this economy struggling. We went up to the Mineral Restaurant for breakfast after the hunt. Picked up another beagle pup, Jack, from Allen this week....more on Jack later.




Falling temps and rain were the prediction for the afternoon, but since it was the last day of late doves we thought we'd give it a try. Went over to the Bibb place and set up in a bean field. The birds were working a line between the beans and a patch of picked over corn. We sat against some power poles, but it's a big field and hard to hunt with only a few guns. About three the rain started and Dad headed home. Flip and I stuck it out for another hour before we'd had enough too.

Big flocks were flying, maybe twenty to forty in each, but they were few and far between, and they never seemed to light where you wanted them. I killed three and called it a season. We headed home to the fire and some hot chocolate.

Right Spot at the Right Time.....

Friday, January 9

Dad and I hunted the same spot as with Cris and Christiane last weekend. Loads of ducks this morning, and we ended up with two drakes and two hens, all mallards. Flip's getting much better this season at working the scent and hunting cover to recover birds. He did fine today.

Ducks with the Lindsays

Saturday, January 3





Cris is one of the original Benelli brothers, the Super Black Eagle toting gang of four: Mike, Cris, Dad, and me. Part skeet coach, part hunting buddy, Felix to my Oscar in the RV, one hundred percent confidante and friend, Cris is exactly halfway between Dad and me in age, and equally at ease with either in the duck blind. We've hunted some pea soup foggy mornings when the ducks floated in like shadowy ghosts and crisp mornings when they were silhouetted against the bright white of snow squalls, way up in the swamp and down in the blinds. We've had some great hunts; two of Goldmine's ducks hang in Cris' den, a black duck and gadwall.

There was the day five geese that came straight in to the big blind like they were on a string, setting wings two hundred yards out and dumping air to coast toward us ten feet above the water....we up, guns up, wait, wait, wait.......NOW! Bang, bang, bang, four geese on the water and Dad purely sheepish after dropping the hammer on an empty chamber. Cris coined the moniker "Click Schick" for Dad, who will never forget to load the gun again.

Other times we hunted at Uncle Newt's up at Brandy Station. There's something extra special about hunting divers on a farm pond haunted by the silent spirits of men who fought their Yankee brothers and bled into the ground over which we hunted.

Once, when Harry was a young freckle faced boy of ten or twelve, we took him hunting in the beaver swamp. One of my favorite all time images is Cris, stools, guns, shells, and gear under one arm, Harry under the other as they crossed the creek....you see, Harry had no waders. Later that morning the early hour of their rising caught up with Harry and he curled at Cris' feet and napped.

Now Cris has another best friend to join the hunts. Last year we took wife Christiane, but lacking gear and duck stamps she huddled a few yards away and watched the men. Fully outfitted (and legal) this year she joins us as one of the team. The year of aught eight's been a tough one....it's nice to be in the swamp, ready for the big morning flight I scouted this week.



In early, we broke ice for decoys and set up to wait. Just at legal time, Cris took a hen from the first flight. Flip chased her down and made a good retrieve. We had beaucoups ducks working for fifteen minutes, but none in to the decoys after that bunch. As usual, within a half hour it was all over. That's OK.....Christiane got in her first real hunt; we saw plenty of birds; the sunrise was beautiful....all in all a fine morning...next stop, Innwood for breakfast.