Finally Wearing Wool - 1.20.07 Afternoon Waterfowl

Wouldn't you know it. Less than two weeks left in the season and we finally had some cold temperatures. Three days of winter weather had some ducks giving up their northern abodes and following the flyway into Carolina. Important family duties, namely cooking waffles for two little boys, holding my baby girl and laying on the couch with my wife, kept me from the morning hunt. Mark W. picked me up at twelve-thirty and we met Keith H. at his house at one. Skies were baby blue, with a few clouds but the wind was blowing pretty good, promising the decoys would be dancing on the water.
An hour later we were heading across the lake in Mark's skiff, eyes watering as cold air assaulted exposed flesh. Luckily it was a short boat ride. After setting out a load of decoys, under Mark's seasoned scrutiny, we piled into the blind. Guns were loaded, fask masks donned and gear was stowed in its proper location.

Keith pulled out a bag of beef jerky and some other snacks and passed them around. Making small talk and picking on one another helped passed the time. There aren't many places on earth more comfortable than a January duck blind shared with good friends.
After a while my legs needed stretching so I left the blind and walked around a bit in woods adjacent to the lake. Deer and turkey sign seemed everywhere and although I didn't have permission to deer hunt this property and the season ended three weeks ago anyway, I found myself looking at possible locations to hang a bow stand. I guess old habits are hard to break. As I was admiring a huge, ancient oak several shots rang out, coming from the direction of my buddies hiding spot. Dagnabit! I'm out on a hike and wouldn't you know it, ducks show up.

I hurried back to the blind to find Mark out in the skiff, picking dead birds up, and Keith standing on the bank with a big, goofy grin on his face. Apparently two different flocks, one ringnecks the other bluebills, had come into the blocks, catching the mighty hunters unaware. Somehow they'd connected on two birds. Of course they were disappointed in their shooting but both felt fortunate to have ducks in the hand. I had a hard time feeling sorry for them!
The sun followed it's course and the hunt ended with no other ducks being spotted. We pulled up our stakes and started picking up decoys. Of course a large flock of bluebills flew right at us, trying to land among the blocks even with the boat and three hunters sitting in the way, circling once, then again before flying off. It was a quick ride back to the ramp. I pulled down my wool cap over my ears and tucked my chin down into my coat. This was what duck hunting was supposed to feel like.

Note: Make sure you're aware of the sunrise/sunset time. On this hunt we left the blind twenty minutes too soon because we didn't want to hunt after LST. IF we had known sunset time we probably would have gotten a shot at that final flock of bluebills.

Surf's Up - 1.16.07 Waterfowl Hunt

It wasn't an environment I was used to hunting in. Well, there was water and there was muck and reeds and, hopefully, ducks so it wasn't that strange but to hunt waterfowl in North Carolina's Pamlico Sound, with gulls screaming, windy salt spray slapping my face and the crashing rumble of currents assaulting the shoreline.
After dropping me off on a small island, my guide, Joey Van Dyke, of Diamond Shoals Guide Service, put out four long lines of blue bill decoys the my right and two lines of surf scooter blocks to my left and drifted his skiff back into the bay, out of sight. Instead of using a dog to retrieve downed ducks Joey handed me a small, two-way radio and advised me to call him and he would use the boat to pick them up.
Rather than a layout boat or blind I would be hunting "redneck style," simply lying on the ground next to the shoreline. I started out fifteen yards from the breaking waves, trying to camouflage myself in some reeds. Barely five minutes after legal shooting time three sea ducks, two drakes and a hen scooter, headed right to the decoys. I emptied the magazine of my Benelli but all three birds flew off unscathed. Talk about humbling! A few minutes later two scooters came in. I made three shots but again, nothing dropped. Joey came on the radio and advised me to move closer to the decoys, in fact he wanted me just outside the sprayline. 20 mph gusts were reaking havoc on my shot string and an additional ten yards would make a huge difference.
The move proved a good idea and after the next flight of ducks came by, two were left floating in the ocean, feet up. I spent the better part of two hours, watching birds fly up and down the coast, shooting occasionally and actually killing a duck every now and then. Around ten Joey spoke into the radio and reminded me not to shoot any more sea duck since I had my limit, but to concentrate of divers.
Rain began to fall, so I cinched my hood tightly around my face and watched rain drops drip off my gun barrel. The warmth of my coat and the incoming fog must have put me into some type of trance because I didn't notice a huge flock of bluebills pour into the decoys. I had stuck my hands into the sleeves of my jacket to warm them up a bit (I'd forgotten my waterproof gloves). When I tried to shoulder the gun my right hand got stuck in the elastic cuff making it impossible to pull the trigger. The commotion of my arm flapping as I tried to extract my hand caused the ducks to flare but before they flew off I was able to fire off a shot hitting a beautiful drake and anchoring him five yards from shore. Oh to have had a "do over" on that group of ducks!
That was the last ducks of the morning. As the front moved in and the downpour grew stronger so we decided to call it a day. Joey picked me up, we stowed all the gear and road through the rain to the ramp content with a wonderful day afield and with a good mess of waterfowl laying in the bottom of the boat.

Notes:
1. Make sure you check with you guide to see what equipments needs you'll have. I made the two mistakes in this regard. One, I was shooting a improved/modified choke but needed a full. Two, a pad of some sort would have come in handy, making me much more comfortable.
2. Take more shotgun shells than you think you'll need. I got a little worried when I got down to 1/2 a box of Kent's. The ducks stopped flying before I ran out of shells but it would have been nice to have the box of Winchesters I had sitting in the floorboard of my truck....
3. One disconcerting moment on this hunt was when I looked up and saw a large fin swimming just outside the decoys. I'd thought it a little silly when my guide said, "Don't wade out there and pick up your dead ducks. Let me do all the retrieving." Even though it was just a pod of dolphin I was more than willing to be compliant!

Putting On Wet Waders - Another 1.15.07 Waterfowl Hunt

After a successful swan hunt I drove to Columbia and headed south down Highway 94. I had permission to hunt a friend's impoundment in Hyde County and since I was meeting a guide near Englehard in the morning there was time to squeeze in an evening hunt near the fabled Mattamuskeet Wildlife Refuge. My waders were still damp from the morning's adventure when I stepped into the boots and pulled the straps over my shoulders. I grabbed a bag full of decoys (mallards and pintails) and my Benelli and headed toward the water.
With a diagram of the impoundment in my chest pocket, showing me where to set up, I walked toward a white, PVC pipe marking the flooded corn field's entry point. A large heron squawked, announcing my arrival, and lazily retreated to a more private location. My boots sunk six inches into the mucky bottom with each step and I could feel the coolness of the water through my waders. A constant breeze pushed low clouds across my peripheral and caused the fifteen decoys I'd thrown out to dance and dart, lifelike among the canes. I concealed myself in a blind, covered my smile with a camouflage facemask and enjoyed the "ducky" surroundings in which I found myself.
Swans flew across the impoundment and several groups of ducks made their way from somewhere to somewhere else, far too high to be part of the evening activities. A group of three birds came toward the blind, spotted the decoys, heard some soft chuckles from my call and decided the pond was a wonderful place for a visit. Without hesitation they locked up, dropped their landing gear and glided toward my blocks. Suddenly I remembered why I was holding a shotgun and raised it getting off two, quick shots. Two ducks flew away leaving one, a beautiful drake gadwall (my first), lying ten feet from my location. More swans flew over and more ducks but none had intentions of visiting the impoundment.
Thirty minutes before sunset I saw two blurs streak across the top of the water, landing in some weeds along the edge of the water. As I shifted around, trying for a better view, two ducks exploded into the air, apparently startled by my clumsy movement. I picked a target and fired a shot. One bird, a drake wood duck (one of my favorites), splashed into the water, thirty yards away. I walked out, picked him up and placed him on my seat next to the gaddy.
Minutes ticked off my watch and legal shooting time came to a close. I sat in the blind for several minutes, watching the sun dip behind the wooded horizon, thanking God for a memorable hunt.
As I picked up my decoys a pair of woodducks flew over the trees and landed in the impoundment. Noticing the camouflaged stranger moving through the water they jumped simultaneously and flew directly over my head. I grabbed the SuperNova, which was slung across my shoulders, pointed it toward the lead bird and just before pulling the trigger remembered it was past legal hunting time. Of course the ducks circled me again and again, each time closer than the time before, finally deciding they had another engagement elsewhere. I verbally chastised myself and quickly unloaded my gun. No duck was worth my integrity.
As I walked back to the truck several more shots range from adjoining property. Everyone has their price I reckon.