From Heros to Zeros

Well, if there's a silver lining to this apocalyptic death-ray of a cloud, its that I'm just as intelligent as I thought I was. As I predicted, the rains came, and they came HARD. Five inches, to be exact. As I predicted, the birds went West, and they did it with style. As I predicted, we are screwed, and we are screwed with flair. There's really no upside here.

As of this morning, I made the entire loop around the farm without seeing so much as a single duck until I was almost back to the shop, wherein I witnessed the true spectacle of a whopping 30 shovelers swoop at the Homer before barreling off to Lindy's.

The Cache is currently perched at 9.9' and is on the rise. The mighty White at Augusta has risen from 12.5' to its present level of 24.57', which is less than 1-foot below flood stage. Big Creek is stuffed to the brim. Every field that ever thought about holding a duck is stopped up and topped off with water. There'll be no eliminating competition at this point.

Options. As for tomorrow, I'll be spending the day on the scout. I'll start at the farm, but I already know what I'm going to see. The river is the second most viable option, but that trip means spending the night in the woods, which I'm not particularly excited about. Option C is a well-known WMA, and while pressure won't be heavy there, historical patterns strongly suggest that the presence of ducks won't be heavy either.

Its anyone's game at this point.