Breakdown: Split Number 1:

Grand Total for the First Split:

124 Birds
Mallards:  52.  42%
Gadwalls:  40.  32%
Shovelers:  13.  10%
Greenwings:  7.  6%
Wigeon:  4.  3%
Specks:  4.  3%
Pintail:  2.  2%
Canada Goose:  2.  2%
15.5 Birds Per Hunt on 8 Hunts at Trigger Happy Hunting Club.

Commentary:

Numerically, it certainly wasn't as good as last season's 1st split total of 179 Birds for an average of 19 birds per hunt.  ON THE OTHER HAND, the grand total of mallards harvested during last season's first split was a whopping 5 (that's right, I said FIVE).  It's funny, because the difference between this year's gadwall split and last year's is only 2 birds.  The difference on pin's is only 1.  The obviously different number is the total shoveler count.  2012's 1st split talley is a grand total of 13, which is EIGHTY-SIX birds short of last year's headcount.  In summary, we've done just as well, minus a butt load of ditch ducks.  Not too shabby.

Now, contrast those numbers against 2010/2011's first split, and the story starts to come together.  In 2010, which we have lovingly dubbed the greatest mallard year on record, our first split ended with a very humble 44 birds reduced to possession.  Only 10 of those were mallards.  Like this season, only 7 were greenwings.  A mere 7 were shovelers.  Another 12 were grey ducks, 4 were specks, and only 1 was a pintail.  It wasn't until December 11 of 2012 that we actually started getting into numbers of birds.  By Christmas, we'd killed 333.  By Christmas of 2011/2012, we'd killed 435 (of course, 312 of 'em were flat-snout's).

I'm getting to a point:  I was somewhat disappointed at the way the birds tapered off at the end of this split, but in the scheme of things from a historical perspective, I'd say we're doing just fine.  As a matter of fact, I'd say that the season's shaping up quite nicely. 

Not Slower, Just Slow

Okay, it wasn't any better this morning.  There were, at least, a few ducks sitting in the field when we got there, though.  John, Blake, Gibby.  Chuck's.  It sucked.

3 Birds
1 mallard
1 speck
1 Canada.

Catching Up . . .

Saturday, November 24, Reece, John, Blake, Jake, and I went back to chuck's, as we really have no place better to go.  A cold front moved through, and whereas we had been "enjoying" morning temps in the 50's, we saw 10 m.p.h. North winds and a blustery 28 degrees this morning.  It was slow, but we managed to scratch out 2 mallards before Reece pulled out and another 4 thereafter.  The break is looking better all the time.

Chuck's
6 Mallards







On Friday, November 23, Reece, John and I set up a blind on the Jones field in search of the elusive speck.  No love, and skunk #1 for the season.

Thursday afternoon, Dave and I plopped down on the levee on jones and managed to pick up one speck.

Jones
1 Speck.

The Titanic . . .

. . . it was a big ship, but it still sank like a rock.  Where duck hunting's concerned, we can relate.  The first split came outta the gate like a racehorse, but let's face it, we're going down.

Today, Hunter, Reece, John, Blake, and I gave thanks for the meager bag that we carried out of the field, and we were thankful because we, rightfully, should've geek carrying a skunk.

3 Birds:
1 Mallard
2 Specks






November 21, John, Grant, Keith, Hailey, Olivia, Garrett, and I went back to the well-used water on Chucks. As expected, the numbers of working birds continued to decline.  It was tough, and we exited at 9 with only 8 birds.

6 Mallards
2 grey ducks







On Tuesday, we were graced with the invite to Byers Farm, or "heaven for Waterfowlers," as I've come to know it.  Cason Short is da man.

As always, the hospitality was phenomenal, the numbers of birds on the place was incredible, and my shooting was laughable.  Excellent trip,as expected.

We hunted until 8:00, and left with 6 limits of teal, and a full bag of mallards and scraps to round out an excellent hunt.





Monday, November 20, was the first trip of the season that turned out to be a struggle. I was fortunate enough to be joined in the blind by Eric Price and my eldest, Olivia.  We hunted till 10:00 to get our limit, but ultimately left with full bags.

19 Birds
09 Shovelers
05 Mallards
05 Gadwall

Grey Ducks Down

Day 2, having no place better to go, Dave, Franks, Garrett, Meredith, John, Blake & I returned to Chuck's.  It was obvious at first light that the throngs of birds we'd seen the day before would be much more humble on this occasion. The mix of a fairly thin herd of birds in the area and extraordinarily heave hunting pressure meant that the diminished numbers came as no surprise.  Nonetheless, the birds did show, and we obliged 'em. Pulled out at 8:15, two birds shy of a full bag.

40 birds
22 gadwall
10 mallards
4 green wings
4 shovelers

84 for the season.

Good Enough

Okay, let me say this: it was good.  I don't wanna be that guy that whines when he's holding a golden goblet, so understand that it was really, really good.  It just wasn't as good as I expected it to be.  The ducks worked, but never put their feet down in big groups like I thought they would.  On the other hand, we were out be 8:00 with a 7 man limit, sans spoonbills, so how do ya complain?

Tasha, papa, Dave, Johnny, Blake, Meredith, and yours truly popped 'em in Chuck's blind.  Clear weather, perfect 5 mph NE winds, temps in the mid-30's.  Good Stuff.

44 Birds.

23 Mallards
11 Gadwall
4 wigeon
3 Greenwing
2 Pintail
1 Canada Goose

As Goes Our Nation, So Goes My Duck Hunting

Let's face it:  this is a time of moral and economic uncertainty for our nation.  We've (and by "we" I mean the idiots living in urban population centers) have chosen to send the same Muslim card-carrying socialist back to the capital that weakened and indebted our country.  Urban America and the unions that fleece the rest of the country have made their decisions and those are the bane of my existence, but there's an up side . . .

Now, let me preface the following thought with my moral convictions:  I don't support the legalization of pot in my home state, nor do I endorse the use of chemical substances as coping mechanisms.  However, what I do endorse is the rebellion of states against the tyranny of our present federal system.  At least 4 states passed laws last Tuesday which run in direct defiance of federal laws.  Regardless of the merits of those laws, I'm romantically in love with the though that those states are standing up and sticking it to the man.  Fact is, for decades our federal government has brushed the mandates of our 10th Amendment under the rug and acted as if it has the authority to draw whatever lines it chooses.  What I'm hoping is that this is a trend which will continue to a place of logical absurdity.  In summary, it is entirely possible that the election of this retard may fuel a fire that actually prompts the nation to take the stand that Thomas Jefferson so passionately hoped we would.  That would be the epitomy of the silver lining in a very dark cloud. 

I know what you're thinking:  "so what does any of that have to do with the Trigger Happy Hunting Club?"  I'm glad you asked!  The point is, that our country is at a decidely unforseen and unpredictible crossroads, and the events that will transpire in the short-term future will ensure that the end result could be either very good, or very bad.  It's certainly uncertain at this point.

As always, my predictions for the 2012-2013 duck season are much the same.  We've got birds, and lots of 'em.  The Memphis Blind is a nullity at this point, because the early water prompted the mass influx of birds to feed through what was left of our soybean crop in less than a week.  The place has simply been ripped to shreads.  Were it not for the fact that I'm shooting 'em out twice a day, the fate of the Lost 20 would be no different.  And then there is Chuck's.  Ahhh . . . the beloved promised land.  She's brimming with gadwalls, wigeon, pin's, teal, shovelers, and mallards.  Not much water, and the creek is bone dry.

Now, I haven't the first drop of water on Amy's, Baser, GW's, Ray's, the Shop, etc.  Where there's water, there are ducks.  Where there is no water, it's a wasteland.  Hold on . . . I'm getting to a point.

The point is, if I can get water to the blind on Chuck's, the sun shines, and the weather conditions stay EXACTLY as they are now, it could be awesome.  If we get storms, if we get big rains, if it gets extremely cold, or if it is cloudy for the opener, all could be lost.  Like our political climate, the duck climate is volitile and speculative.  Certainly uncertain.

Below are a few pic's of Chucks, as it is now:

Stress . . .

I'm stressed.  It's true. 

Let me preface the situation with a little history to make my point:

In 1997, I was licensed to practice law in the State of Arkansas.  After a two-year gig in Little Rock, I moved back to God's country and opened the law firm with my namesake.  That was in 1999.

In 2001, upon receiving the news that Papa was short a hired-hand on the farm, I opted to scale-back the law practice and work on the farm for a while, which was a raging good time until 2005, when the banker told me that it'd be a good idea for me to go back to the practice of law -- which I did.  However, prompted by a telephone call from one of my father's landlords, I opted to rent a small block of land and hire the farm work done while renting equipment, which worked out extremely well.  So well, as a matter of fact, that the territory I was farming more than doubled over the next few years.  Things were, well, going well.

On April 1, 2012, my hired-hand bolted.  While it wasn't a huge surprise (it's what flighty people do), I was somewhat disappointed.  Let's face it:  my employee was someone I had counted on and someone who had given me his word over hand-shakes only a month earlier that he'd be there through the farming season. After carefully considering the situation, Papa & I decided that it was something we could pull off.  So there we were:  me and my 70 year-old father and 1,000 acres. 

While quite the struggle, I've managed to pull off a full-time law practice and a full-time farming gig for the last 8 months.  I said I'd do it, and I have.  Unfortunately, it's come at a cost.  Working these hours will make an old man of you, and the returns simply aren't worth the investment.  Couple that with the fact that I absolutely abhor the practice of law, and the fact that my dissatisfaction with the profession is directly proportional to our level of financial success at the office, and its a recipe for a meltdown. The better we do at the office, the more I hate it.  I can't explain why, other than to say that, as your success rate goes up in this business, the expected volume and corresponding pressure increase exponentially in relation thereto.   

Sooooo, to make it fit on a page, at the the Mrs. & I had determined several months ago that, for better or for worse, as of the end of 2012, the law office would cease to do business, regardless of my career path thereafter.  Having done so, we were left with the decision regarding whether to farm or not to farm.  Ultimately, we chose to farm.  Yea me!

Okay, so that decision having been made, we jumped into the most frustrating harvest of our lives.  The weather didn't cooperate, I broke everything I touched, and things generally came unravled.  What should have been a short undertaking wound up taking right up until last Thursday, which meant I was in a rush to prep for the upcoming duck slaughter. 

I immediately went to work.  Stopping up levees, rolling stubble, etc.  The weather made it difficult, equipment failures made it even harder.  Add to that a general lack of available water, and now you're up to speed. 

We're presently holding ducks in three locations in phenomenal numbers.  The problem is that I don't have the water or the acreage under it to hold the numbers of birds we have for the amount of time necessary to get us to the Nov. 17 opener.  The wells are shut down, the creek is pumped dry, and the ditches have been empty for weeks.  At this point, I'm praying for an inch of rain and running ducks out of the fields twice a day.  It'ss frustrating, and I'm stressed. 

Catching Up

So, I'm behind.  Dove season was da bomb, as per the norm.  The weather was tragic and the shooting horrific, but I still managed to blast through waaaaay more boxes of shells than I should have and finally reduce my limit to possession.  Rain and 30 m.p.h. winds, but you just can't complain about blasting through cases of shells with family and friends.