Oh, and It Gets Better

Okay, so on my eldest's birthday, Christmas Eve, John, Matthew, Dan, Reece, Olivia and I made what will probably be our last trip to the fabled Home field this season. Slow is probably the best word to describe the hunt, but we did have a couple of birds work the spread. More importantly, the first bird to work well was a mallard hen, and having instructed the boys on what the marching orders would be for the morning, I let Olivia get off the first shot. A single mallard hen swung through the decoys from the East, and at the point I thought she had a decent shot, I told my girl to take her. Olivia quickly sprang to her feet and got a shot off, but didn't draw a feather. Instinctively, the rest of the crew sprang into action and slung their weapons skyward. Fortunately, just as the safeties came off, we heard another shot, which came from the business end of a 20 gauge. I looked down the blind at my brother-in-law and asked "did you shoot?" "Nope" said John. Quietly, Olivia looked up and said "I did." Bang! that was it. Dishragged her first confirmed solo-shot on a mallard on the wing! Daddy couldn't have been more proud. 5 Specks, 1 Gadwall, 1 Mallard. 7 Birds total.

7 Birds
5 Specks
1 Mallard
1 Gadwall





Christmas day I skipped the hunt . . . not because I wasn't willing to go, but because there weren't any ducks worth hunting in a place I wouldn't screw up for everyone else.

Had to End . . .

. . . finally did today. John, his friend John whose name I dare not try to pronounce, J-Hawk, Garrett, Olivia, & old Gibby made a final trek to Chuck's this morning. Hunted till 10:00 a.m., and left with only 7 mallards. No complaints here.

7 Birds, All Mallards.

Blessed

Yup, that's what I said: blessed. Not lucky, not good, just blessed. Papa, Danger Dave, J-Hawk, the Kid, & I graced Chuck's blind once again this morning and witnessed a green-headed spectacle under bluebird skies and absolutely perfect conditions. North winds at 11 mph meant the ducks would set just south of the blind and float effortlessly into the spread. With wide eyes and heavy trigger fingers we watched as God's creation danced in light winds 10 yards west of the blind. Full limits of mallards today. 27 birds.

27 Ducks.
20 Mallards
05 Pintails
01 Lonely Northern Shoveler

Season Total: 319
Daily Average: 12.76

Right Back At It

This morning, Dec. 21, 2010, Jordan & I entertained the Baker boys. Again, like yesterday, we had a very, very slow start. Nonethtless, we worked large flocks of mallards later in the morning and wound up scratching out a decent bag. 27 Birds.

27 Birds
14 Mallards
04 Gadwalls
03 Specks
02 Snows
02 Wigeon
02 Shovelers
292 for the season.

You Can Whack Birds on Mondays, Too . . .

I'll be honest . . . things slowed way down today. Birds were there, but we needed sunshine, as they weren't apt to finish with the grace we've grown accustomed to over the last few days. Nonetheless, Papa, Jordan, John, Tom, Grant, Casey Spencer, and I whittled away at 'em until we had 30 in hand. We could have stuck it out, but then again, there's always tomorrow. Suffice it to say that we're pace'n ourselves.

30 Birds.
24 Mallards
3 Gadwall
3 Pintail

23 Days of season down.
265 Dead, many more wounded.
11.5 B.P.D.

Not Bad for a Sunday Morning

Not satisfied with merely smokin dux on Chux, we decided to whack 'em on the old homer as well. Tom, Grant, Casey Spencer, Jordan, John, Dave, Blake, & ole Gibby made sport of 'em one more time. We left in time for church with 28. After noon, Garret and Olivia got in on some action and picked off another 11 birds. 39 for the day, and things ain't so bad!

39 Birds.
10 Mallards
21 Gadwall
6 Wigeon
1 Green Wing
1 Shoveler

It Was a Grey Duck Wackin'

Ouch. 'Nuff said. Clear skies, upper 20's, thin ice, dead ducks. My partners in crime were the Kid, Danger Dave, Matthew, J-Hawk, Jake, and Blake. Left the blind at 8:15 with full bags. Not a bad way to end the week. 46 Birds.

46 Birds
25 Gadwall
18 Mallards
2 Shovelers
1 Wigeon

Official Time of Death: 7:04 a.m.

Whoa! Jordan, John, Olivia, & I took a chance on Chuck's this morning and left 30 minutes later with full bags. Thin ice and light winds must have been the perfect combo, because hours came in about 6:34 and we left the blind at exactly 7:04 with limits. Two in our blind were actually physically assaulted by birds: Jordan fell victim to a mallard that slung excrament on him and I fell prey to a mallard that used himself as a suicide projectile. 25 birds, and not a spooner in sight.

25 Birds
10 Mallards
15 Grey Ducks
Season Total: 150
BPD: 7.50

Alrighty, Then!

Three days off sure makes one appreciate a nice day in the blind. Sure, conditions sucked, but given that I haven't hunted since December 12, even crappy weather made December 16 seem a whole lot better.

For the record, the cold front moved through on Sunday, and when I say "cold", I mean really, really cold. Monday & Tuesday we saw temps in the low teens and never broke the mid 20's. Wednesday, the day started out in the low 20's but moved up to the 30's late in the day and over-night. This morning, we started out at a balmy 35, but it was too little, too late for a thaw.

All that notwithstanding, J-Hawk, Papa & I trudged through the ice back into the Homer this morning, and when the dust cleared we had a nice bag to show for it. We came out 1 shy of a limit of ducks and 1 shy of a limit of geese.

22 Birds
7 Mallards
9 Grey Ducks
5 Specks
1 Shoveler

On Saturday evening, a strong cold front moved through town. Temps dipped into the lower 20's and the winds blew at a sustained 25-40 m.p.h. overnight and throughout the day on Sunday. Having discussed the matter on Saturday, we anticipated rough conditions and made a plan to return to the old Homer. We almost skipped the trip, because NW winds at 30 on a day when its 24 degrees ain't my idea of a good time if there are no ducks to be had. Fortunately, there WERE ducks to be had. John, Jordan, & I weathered the weather and dropped out at 8:45 with 20 birds.

20 Birds
14 Gadwall
3 Shovelers
1 Pintail
2 Snows



Season Total: 103
Daily Average: 6.87 BPD

Finally!!!!!!!!

Having had enough of the Home field madness, we decided that we would break the seal on Chuck's on Saturday regardless of the fact that we had seen no ducks there. Reece, Haun, Blake, John, & I made our arrivals at the shop at 5:30 and tooled up in a driving rain. Nonetheless, we were not to be thwarted, as there had apparently been more ducks using Chuck's than we had known. A fine day indeed, and a very nice breath of fresh air because it was our first rice field hunt of the season.

21 Birds
9 Gadwall
9 Shovelers
3 Mallards

On Friday, Blake, Papa, & I did the same thing. Of course, we killed two birds.

2 Birds
1 Speck
1 Gadwall

Thursday, John, Jordan & I made yet another trip to the Home Field. Again, similar results.

2 Ducks.
1 Mallard
1 Gadwall

As for Wednesday, the 8th, we did the same thing we had done the day before, and the results were about the same as we expected. John, Jordan, and myself bagged a green-wing, 2 grey ducks, and 2 mallard drakes. Fairly slow, I must say.

5 ducks.
2 gadwall
2 mallards
1 green wing.

Well, on December 7, 2010, season re-opened much the same way it stalled out. We had birds, and lots of 'em, but they wanted very little to do with the blind on the Home field, where we continue to hold the only significant flood on the farm. When it was said and one, we bagged a couple of mallards and 7 grey ducks.

9 ducks.
7 Gadwall
2 Mallard

Okay, So Split No. 1 Sucked . . .

. . . could'a been worse, I suppose. Another sunless day, another struggle. Day two five of us returned to the Home field blind, not by choice, but because it was the only place left to hunt. Rough times ahead! The shining moment Sunday morning was the outright extermination of a mallard hen at daylight by Olivia (age 9) and Garrett (age 10). Both ran their guns empty, and ducks died. Only 14 birds on Sunday.

Monday, Baker, Tayler, Papa & I, of course, went back to the Home field. Again, no sunshine. This time the bag went down to a mere five (5)Not a good starter.

3 Gadwall
2 Specks



Tuesday, November 23, day 4 of season, uhhhh, we went back to the Home field. It sucked.

2 Gadwall

Wednesday. Back to the Home field. Will it ever rain?????? SKUNK No. 1 for the season.

Thursday, thanksgiving day, it got worse.

2 Wood ducks

Friday, Skunk No. 2

Saturday, Skunk No. 3

Sunday. Sucked. 1 Greenwing teal

Season Totals:
B.P.D. = 4.89
44 Birds
12 Gadwall
10 Mallards
07 GWT
07 Shovelers
04 Specks
03 Woodies
01 Pintails

Shattered Expectations

Well, the opener ranked among the top 5 most disappointing of my days. High hopes based on a forecast of sunny weather and medium winds were dashed by dense fog and no winds. What should have been a short-order slaughter turned out to be a grind. Tasha, Papa, Jordan, Meredith, Dave, John, Blake, & I left the field with 20 birds.

6 Mallards
5 Green-wings
2 Specks
3 Gadwall
1 Pin
3 Shovelers

Praise Jesus and Pass the Ammunition

They're still there!!!!! I dunno if they'll stick until the opener, but as of this morning, we still have birds on the Home field. Despite my repeated attempts to contain the situation, I'm starting to get excited.

Probably setting myself up for a huge disappointment. Nonetheless, pray for stubborn ducks and south winds for the opener. It could turn out to be a decent shoot.

Why Now?????

Okay, let me get this straight: For 4 months I've begged for rain. For 4 months I've pleaded for rain. Despite the fact that I have desperately needed it, for 4 months I've had no rain.

Five days ago I started begging for dry weather. And of course, now its raining.

The birds have been on a night-feeding pattern. They are leaving the roost early (like 4:30 p.m.), but they're definitely most active at 5:00 and thereafter. Nonetheless, there remains a small, densely populated pocket of birds that are holding in the Home field in the mornings, and another sizable group that is hitting the field at 8:00 a.m. and thereafter. Unfortunately, that will all change today.

The night feeding pattern on the Home field ended this morning, with the arrival of this rain. Face it, birds on a night-feeding pattern rarely switch fields so long as weather patterns hold and they aren't forced by a lack of food, because flying into unfamiliar waters at dusk presents them with many risks they wouldn't encounter by flying to the same familiar field, night after night. On cloudy days, those ducks are prone to stretch their wings rather than loafing all day like they have been doing in the sunshine. Moreover, because there are no shadows on cloudy, rainy days, the ducks exploring new habitat aren't prone to predator ambushes, since the birds can see much more clearly. In summary, this shift in the weather exponentially increases the likelihood that the ducks will move to another field to feed.

To be clear, this is the worst kind of rain -- it is the kind that doesn't accumulate water in our other fields, but merely makes the birds jumpy and allows them to scout fresh water, like that recently pumped on the field immediately north of ours. Their pattern is broken, and now they've got the opportunity to switch feeding grounds. Had the dry, sunny conditions remained constant, I haven't the slightest doubt that opening morning would have ended in limits for our blind. However, given the dramatic change in conditions, I'm 100% less confident.

Cross your fingers and pray that these birds are stubborn, because otherwise we may watch someone else shoot the birds we've held for a week and a half on opening day.

Still in Business.

Cross your fingers, boys. It's lookin' like 30 or better for the opener. Of course, that is until things change and the ole Homer looks like a dry, barren field.

Brace Yourself . . .

Gentlemen: There remain ten (10) days before waterfowl season makes its glorious return into our otherwise mundane lives. AND, with a mere 10 days before the big dance, you'll never guess who showed up. No, really, GUESS. Okay, time's up: it's Mr. Hollywood himself!!!!!

I know, it's a HUGE surprise that a clan of boot-lips would show up in the Home field prior to the opener, but ready-or-not, here they come. Looked to be about 75-100 around this morning, and those are added to the 200 or so mallards, pins, gadwall, wigeon, and teal that were already feeding 20 feet North of the blind.

If we can hold our water, we're in for a decent shoot opening day.

From Little Acorns . . .

. . . Mighty Oaks Grow!

November 8, 2010:



November 10, 2010:





Dust off them waders, boys . . . we've got water, and where there's water, there will be ducks!

Workin'

Face it, if you're one of the 4 people that actually take a look at this blog from time to time, you're more than aware of the fact that there ain't no water and there's precious few ducks in town at present. I, however, not to be thwarted by desert conditions, defied my mantra and cranked the pumps on Friday to ensure the the Home Field will provide the birds a place to stop in for a drink 13 days from now. That being said, I'll try to post pictures tomorrow that detail my reasons behind why it seems like such a good idea. Big Creek is stuffed with mallards and a couple of dozen have found their way to the pit blind. If they're still there in 2 weeks, I intend to invite a few of 'em to my place for dinner.

As per the norm, since Saturday was the first weekend in November, the crew descended upon Gibson Farms like Cattle Egrets on a fresh cow pie. We worked at a fevered pitch, which was an optimistic undertaking at best. Given the drought conditions we've put up with over the last 6 months, we'll be lucky to see water in any of the 4 blinds we've brushed by the 1st of the year.

La Niña is a Spanish Whore!!!!!

That's right . . . I said it, and I ain't takin' it back, either.

La Niña is a phenomenon typically following El Niño that is caused by cooler than normal currents in the ocean depths off the cost of Peru. The term "El Niño," which is Spanish for "little boy" was aptly named as such by local fisherman after the Christ-child, because the pattern normally occurs around Christmas. La Niña, "little girl", on the other hand, should be named "la puta", because she's a heartless little tramp and I hate her. The "event" is most often characterized by strong weather patterns which, in recent years, have been discovered to play a significant role in North America, particularly during the fall and winter months. During a La Niña year, winter temperatures are warmer than normal in the Southeast and cooler than normal in the Northwest. Furthermore, rainfall totals are typically higher in the Northwest and lower in the Southeast.

What this all means to YOU, the avid duck hunter in Northeast Arkansas, is that you can expect continuing hot, dry conditions, which, in essence, translates into swatting mosquitoes and sweating over dry fields with absolutely no birds until sometime in mid-January. Now, wouldn't you agree that La Niña is inappropriately named?

To illustrate this point more clearly, what follows are verbatim quotations from my 1999 (which happens to have been our last strong La Niña year) hunting journal:

November 19, 1999: For records purposes, this is the third Spanish year in a row. Two years ago, in 1997, there was El Nino’, which plagued us with warm weather and little rainfall. Last year, there was La Nina’, El Nino’s evil twin sister. This year, she’s back. I am truly frustrated with warm, dry fall weather patterns. I hope for cold fronts which bring heavy rains and lots of ducks in the near future. Last night, one week to the day before Thanksgiving, I mowed my lawn in blue jeans and a T-shirt. I burned up and was eaten alive by mosquitos. The highs during the daylight hours are generally in the high 60's to the low 70's. Nighttime lows average 45 to 55.

. . . and the pattern continued right up until January 1, 2000, wherein I noted that "We hunted under high sunny skies and 60 degree temperatures."

Don't get me wrong . . . there were some nice, cool days during that season. But my point is that I don't have any hopes of a normal season, and the lack of water mixed with the abundance of dust has dampened my spirits, if you know what I mean.

Nonetheless, if there are ducks to be hunted, we'll pursue 'em with reckless abandon as if there is no tomorrow!

Smells Like Sumthin' Died In Here . . .

Dove season was a SMASH, and, for once, the birds showed up and cooperated just like they were supposed to. The action was fast and furious, and everyone in the group left with a sore shoulder, so I'd call the day a success!