Well, I Swanee - 01.15.07 "Internet" Swan Hunt

"You're going to hunt what?" Several nonhunting friends had asked the same question upon learning about my next outdoor adventure. North Carolina Wildlife Resources Commission offers a special Tundra Swan hunt as a method of keeping the expanding population in check and "provide significant hunting opportunities." The permits are issued by lottery drawing with only 5,000 people being issued tags. I had a purty, red tag burning a hole in my pocket.
You don't see many swans in the Piedmont, so a place to get a shot at one of those big, white birds was needed. Enter the internet. One of the outdoor-related forums I'm a member of, NCDeer.com, just happened to be organizing a get together/swan hunt. Conman's Guide Service in Creswell, NC was hosting the shindig.
I pulled up to Conman's place after dark on Sunday evening. There was a crowd of folks gathered around a large smoker and the smell of grilled meat (turned out to be venison, bear, pig and even some moose) and roasted oysters hung thickly in the air. I felt a little odd walking up, very similar to the new kid on the first day of school feeling, but was welcomed warmly
into the crowd. There was an interesting dynamic to this gathering. As I sat in the group, listening to the conversations and watching the interacting, it struck me how similar this was to every other hunt camp I'd been a part of. These people, most of which had met on an internet forum, were acting like lifelong pals. It was funny to hear grown men refer to each other as their online screen names like Luckybuck and Hawkeye rather than their given names but it was great to see the genuine camaraderie and hear their warm discussions. Plans were made for the
morning and the hunters broke up into small groups and dispersed into several cottages on the grounds. I found my spot, spread out my sleeping bag and laid down for some much needed shuteye.
Morning came several minutes before 5am, plenty of time for donning camouflage, eating some breakfast and downing some coffee. Then it was time to saddle up with 15-20 hunters piling into a modified,camo'ed school bus.

We arrived at the hunt location, one of the largest fields I'd ever seen much less been in, roughly twenty minutes later. The plan was for the hunters to conceal themselves among the reeds within an eight foot drainage ditch parallelling the field and await the arrival of swans.
It was a beautiful, eastern North Carolina morning but we didn't have much time to enjoy it. Only thirty minutes passed before someone shouted, "Here comes some, everyone get down." Straining ears were soon rewarded with the faint "Whoo" of incoming swans. Because we were posted down in the gully it was impossible to see, but each occasional, rhythmic "whoo" was closer than the one before. Soon , just over the crest of the ditch I could make out the black beaks and elongated white necks followed by the streamline bodies and graceful flight of several swans. The huntermaster, Andy, called out "Take 'em" and several shots thundered. At least one bird hit the ground, I didn't fire a shot. Before there was time for celebration another "herd" was spotted heading toward us. Here they came, streaming toward the decoys and toward our ambush spot. This group was coming straight at me. Closer and closer they came until finally they were in range. I picked out a large, adult put, swung my barrel a foot or so in front of it's beak and fired. As the pellets hit
home the swan hesitated and buckled a bit but kept flying. A second shot of BB's found their target knocking the bird from the sky and ending my hunt. The "all-clear" was given and I dragged myself up, out of the ditch, with my quarry, blind bag and shotgun and began my long
trek back to the bus, grateful for a safe, successful hunt. After everyone got their bird we piled back into the camo'ed short bus and headed back to camp. An hour later I was on the road, off on my next Carolina adventure. Driving down highway 94 it stuck me how I'd applied for the permit several months ago, planned this trip back in November, driven almost five hours to get to camp and my hunt was over with just two shots. Aren't the best things in life just like that?

Notes:
1.To say a tundra swan is big is like saying my granny's buttermilk poundcake tasted "nice". According to the USGS website, adult swans are thirty-six inches long with wingspans of eighty-five inches. Males weigh twenty-eight pounds or more.
2. Success rates at Conman's are unbelievably high. We were 100% with all nineteen hunters scoring a swan.
3. If you're ever fortunate enough to harvest a swan don't forget to affix your permit to your bird, according the printed instructions or complete the attached survey (can be done online).