What Happens in the Duck Marsh Stays in the Duck Marsh - Share Funny Stories
The first season I duck hunted, actually the 2nd time I'd ever duck hunted, we headed out to a public WMA Duck March developed by Ducks Unlimited that is near my house to duckhunt. We had my buddy's retriever, Daisy, in the back of the truck. We stopped to let some deer run across the road as we were entering the marsh area. We continued on to the Southern edge of the marsh then did our usual hike out to his favorite spot in the marsh to set up (Since I was the rookie I got to carry the decoy bag:mad:). We started into the marsh when my buddy says, "Have you seen Daisy?" I said, "No, I thought you had her." We realized that she must have jumped out of the truck when we stopped for the deer thinking we were parking. He helped me dispatch the decoys, set up the Mojo duck, and get set up. He was gone for a couple of hours. I had only shot one duck but couldn't retrieve it cuz the water was too deep. He came back and told me he couldn't find her. She was gone. He asked me if I shot anything. I told him I had. I had shot one duck but that I couldn't find it. Then I asked, "Hey, when's goose season?" He replied, "Right now. Why?" I said, "Because while you were gone I counted over 50 snow geese before I stopped counting that flew not more than 100 feet over me in a big group. I didn't hear anyone else take a shot so I didn't shoot.":p He nearly passed out!:eek:
Now, the area of the marsh was deeper than we expected. We shot a total of 8 ducks out of our max of 10 but were only to retrieve the last one because Daisy wasn't there to retrieve, the water was too deep, and when we walked around the marsh to the other side to get the ducks they were gone...nowhere to be found. We both agreed we suck at retrieving. As he was shooting the 8th duck his wife called. He answered, said hold on, set his phone down, blasted a Pintail drake out of the sky, picked his phone back up and said hello (It was pretty cool to witness - He was a pretty cool guy though). She told him some hunters called her cuz their phone number was on Daisy's tag. She game instructions to meet them at noon at the front gate to the WMA. He left, leaving me to clean up all the decoys, etc. which, once again was okay cuz I was the rookie (the rookie that let 50+ geese buzz the tower as he put it). I got everything out and back over to where he was picking me up (finally). Conveniently, he returned at the end of my last trip with our gear with Daisy in the bed of the truck. I asked where she'd been. He said, "She was with some other hunters all morning. They were using her to retrieve their ducks all morning and didn't want to give her up til' they were done hunting.":rolleyes: That was a good laugh!
RIP Daisy, I miss you.:(
The very 1st time I duckhunted (with the same guy - we ended up best buddies and duckhunted every Saturday morning together) he forgot to tell me to keep my feet moving in the marsh to keep them from getting stuck in the mud. I hurriedly stood with my heels stuck in the mud (off balance a little) and shot. I quickly found myself butt-first in the water.:o Then the next shot I took sitting down. this time butt and chair were in the water.:o:o I finally got the hang of it.
Got more but don't want to hog the thread (no pun intended).:D
Goose Blind Death Trap
My grandfather got me started hunting. I had to mow his lawn for a year before he felt I earned enough money to pay for my Hunter's Safety Course, but I finally got enough and he took me every day to the classes. Once I graduated, my next task was to build with him the goose blinds we would hunt in.
Now, my grampa was a simple man. He taught himself how to read, andlike most men of his era, he grew up on a farm. His favorite thing to say was, "On the farm, we never had money to just go out and buy what we needed. We made what we needed from scratch. If we couldn't build it, we must not have needed it." So... we built these goose blinds from what eve we had around. Luckily, grampa was from the depression era... so he had a TON of stuff lying around. We had the wood, screws, plexi, rails, rollers, everything. The blinds really turned out well. He was quite the craftsman. But them I suppose he had to be.
In a previous post, I mentioned that we always had dogs around the house. His and ours. His at the time was Berretta, a black lab. Poor Berretta never stood a chance. See, again, growing up on the farm, nothing ever went to waste. Nothing. Not even the table scraps. Those went to the pigs. Now we never had pigs growing up, and old habbits die hard, so grampa gave the scraps to Berretta. She was a FAT dog. I mean FAT. It didn't matter how many times I ran her, swam her, what have you... That dog ate what ever was fed to her... And the grandparents ate well.
One thing my 13 year old brain failed to comprehend while building the goose blinds, was that Berretta's diet could be... well...noxious. Not the diet I suppose, but certain by-products of the diet. Yes. That's better.
So we build the blinds and tote them up north. My grampa leased lands in a small farming area north of Denver called Windsor. We placed 3 blinds and used the farmers dead corn stalks to blend them into the area. It looked wonderful. I couldn't wait until goose season.
Goose season finally opened up, but because of school, I was unable to with grampa until winter break. I grabbed my carharts, (purchased by him for me via another long list of chores and such I won't go into...) my shotgun, and a lunch packed by my gramma. Peanut butter, butter and honey sandwiches, club crackers, and an apple. God I miss her sandwiches. Anyway... we were off. I sat in that car at 5 am with visions of geese falling all around us as I deftly dropped one fat honker after another.
We arrived at the farm just before dawn and the snow was pristine white. Not a mark in it until I stepped into it with a sharp crakling sound. We unloaded a huge tank filled with Propane. We used it to heat up the blind. Well... grampa told me we would heat up the blind with it... darned if he ever lit it though. Blue toes will attest to that. anyway we were ready. WE were ready, but the geese weren't. Nothing flew that whole day. I mean nothing. Not even the stupid magpies who would ruin many shots of mine later. Grampa introduced me to a game I plan on sharing with my son called "Dutch oven." See, we were there in this small 5 x 4 blind with nothing to do... So he'd let fly with some horrendous rumblers. Seat shakers he;d call them, and just laugh! Oh god the smell. It was no suprise to me why the geese never showed up.
At one point I wondered why he even bothered with a gun. Jst drop trow and blast one skyward. The geese would asphixiate and drop!
So with a dead heart and destroyed nostrils, we packed the truck up and headed home... goose-less. Berretta, having worked herself to death just trying to get her big old butt into the truck, decided that my feet were a good pillow, and since I was frozen solid, I didn't complain. Grampa, seeing I was thoroughly frozen, decided to turn the heater on in the truck. That heat felt great on my face and ears. He turned it on high, and I thought I heard a small, stiffeled giggle escape him as he re-adjusted himself in the seat.
It hit me like a freight train. My eyes fogged over. My throat closed. I couldn't breathe. It wasn't him because I didn't hear anything. rust me when I say I KNEW it wasn't one of his. He'd make your ears ring. Oh God! I was going to be sick. Berretta, the dog would and did eat anything, Oh God!
reached for a window and Grampa yelled at me! "Don't roll down that window! You'll let the heat out!"
She did it again. Oh no. I thought I would pass out. The heater which had once been my best friend now turned on me. It blew silent death into my face at all angles. I couldn't get away no matter what I tried. It was every where. For 58 long minutes I forced back gramma's sandwiches and crackers, until finally we arrived home. I LAUNCHED from the cab of that truck, eyes watering, gasping for air. All I could get out was "Buh."
Grampa laughed harder than I have ever seen someone laugh to this day. I lay there in the snow praying nothing was permanently damaged.
Man that one had me laughing!:D
Funny you talk out about pre-dawn activities, and freezing cold temps to get a shot at a bird. On heavy weekends I'm on the road for my 15 mile drive at 3:30 AM to get a good spot in the marsh. We waterfowl hunters are a VERY special breed.:D It makes no sense. It's like hog hunting. It's a sickness.:cool: (although I still have not gotten the chance to hunt in a blind - I'm always sitting in reeds or under a tree in knee deep marsh water)
The night before our early season goose opener, we frequently spend the night in the field.
We're all pretty young and our strategy is scout hard and ALWAYS be there FIRST. :D
Quite often, we'll have all of our gear unloaded and set up before the next group of hunters even arrive....much to their disappointment! :eek:
To anyone reading this:
Ya' See? It's a sickness I tell ya!:D
I've done all nighters; just jokin' and cuttin' up until the sun starts to come up. Those are the funnest!:cool:
I got a million stories of hunting with grampa.
remind me I need to tell the story of the 10 ga VS The Magnum Decoys...
Whenever your ready to write it. We're ready to read it.:D
this why we call it waterfowling because you can spend it with family and friends and have a good time when nothing flying.
A few guys where kind enough to introduce me to goose hunting a few years ago. After that first trip I needed to carts to get my stuff out of Cabelas!!
I think thats when my wife truly realized the extent of my problem...
Since then many a freezing morning has been spent laying in a corn field staring at the horizon!!!!
The best are when we bring the portable grill and try to cover it up when string starts heading our way!!!
Just a tip....Canadians don't like the smell of Italian sausage!!!!!:D:D
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