Another season gone

Last weekend marked the end of quail season here, which is pretty much all she wrote until spring turkey and then the long slow spell (hunting-wise) before dove and grouse in September.

We didn't take much advantage of our opportunities, work again interfering with life. This was a surprisingly decent quail year and, if it will just rain or snow a bit in the next couple of months and we get a normal monsoon in the summer, next year might be pretty good. That said, my folks and sister came out for an early 76th weekend for Dad and only bumped three coveys in two days and a whole lot of miles. The first of those was gratifyingly large, well over 20 birds, but took off down a thirty mile an hour tailwind and flew way, way out there. We pursued nonetheless but never found them.

The second day of our hunt, the weather went from 70 degrees with a thirty mile an hour wind to 28 degrees and overcast, all day long. One of the coveys we ran into flushed at 200 yards and flew another six, then flushed wild a second time and just about went out of sight. Late season, tough hunting.

A month ago, back around the end of duck season, A and I headed north up to our old stomping grounds on the Rio Bravo and got together with friend Matt for a weekend of duck hunting.  The first day didn't go real well, as we hadn't been out scouting. We found a spot in the dark where a half dozen mallards were roosting in a nook of the current, but ducks passing over once light came were few  and not interested in our spot. The flood last September took out a lot of  sediment and the river isn't as spread out as it has been in other years, making it a little harder to find a setup. Our second day, we had a much better place and had ducks trying to land as we were putting out the decoys.

It wasn't perfect, though, and several big bunches of mallards gave us hard looks and circled, but wouldn't commit. A pair of widgeon tried to land in the dekes- those we just flat missed. At the end of the day, we had a few birds and quite a bit of fun.

 So, now the big game proclamation is out and the deadline to apply for next fall's hunts is fast approaching. Time to sit down with a calendar, a map, and the odds from last year's draw to try to figure out how to get the best out of a little time afield and maybe put some meat in the freezer.

an answer from the 'net

A couple of years (well, apparently 4 years) ago, Booker and I came across an unusual duck and I speculated on these pages that it was a bird in eclipse plumage, or perhaps a hybrid. A number of folks commented and offered informed opinions or guesses as to what exactly we had, but no definitive answer was forthcoming.

Recently, flipping through some outdoor wish book or another, I became aware that Greenhead Gear™ is making a "hybrid  black duck decoy".

Looks just about the same to me:

Once again, the internet answers all questions (a Google Image Search for "hybrid black duck" further suggests that the bird we got was indeed just that).

way down south

Over the Christmas holiday we made a quick trip down to far south Texas to visit family. My cousin had arranged a Christmas Eve duck hunt via airboat in some of the back bays of the Laguna Madre system. Reports of recent hunts were very encouraging, as a general drought down there has moved a lot of the birds out to the bays. On the other hand, few things make me more nervous than going on a hunt or fishing trip after hearing about how great conditions have been lately. Somehow, that always seems to work out to "you shoulda been here last week". Dawn:

We started off with a short boat ride to a palatial blind on a back waterway. Once the blocks were out and the boat moved back, we waited for shooting light and listened to the cries of various shorebirds. Those cries were particularly easy to hear, as the wind was nearly completely still.

Not surprisingly, the ducks didn't really move given the bluebird conditions. We had a few come in: a greenwing teal drake, a mottled duck, and four spoonbills all fell, but we had been hoping for pintails, mottled ducks, wigeon, gadwall, redheads and maybe some divers, not spoonies. Given the conditions, we loaded up and went out to a couple of blinds near the Intercoastal. There, a lone hen redhead came in and fell, with several big flocks trading well out or range. On the ride out, we saw tens of thousands of birds out on the flats. Here are a few hundred:

Since things weren't working out, we moved again, this time to a back channel between a couple of bays.

Though things were still slow, this last location resulted in a small bunch of snow geese coming in to the spread.

We also had a few pintails come in.

Even though we didn't get into a bunch of birds, it was a good hunt with family and a great experience getting to see a bunch of the backcountry that is normally inaccessible. Much of the time we were running over four or five inches of water (lying on top of a very soft bottom) and, absent the airboat, never could have gotten there. The shorebirds were a kick to watch, with roseate spoonbills, snipe, yellowlegs, long billed curlews, brown and white pelicans, and dozens of others I can't identify trading about and around the decoys. For that matter, hunting ducks in a tee shirt is a bit of a novel experience. It's pretty hard to beat a holiday hunt and catching up on the year that's passed while waiting for birds to come in. Of course, the weather swapped around, with a nice stiff north wind, the day after Christmas. I'll bet the guys out there slayed them.

First duck of the year

That's about 2 inches of water and the rest is sticky mud, which makes having a dog to send out for the bird even better. A front was supposed to blow through today, so A and I headed to some salty little ponds not too far out of town. Water is, unsurprisingly, low and before the morning really got going the wind laid some and the temperature stopped dropping. Given the conditions, there wasn't much going on to move the birds and only a very few ducks were flying. We missed a couple of chances but ended up with 2 mallards, one of which donated two breast fillets for prosciutto and the other of which is destined for stir fry or some other quick cooking. Not bad for our first waterfowl outing. Meanwhile, the wind is tearing down out of the North and braised oryx shanks are about ready for dinner. Tomorrow will likely be a great day to be on the water.

ducking out

There is a little water down here. The river's blue line across the map is more thin than that drawn by the Rio Grande, but like almost anywhere else people settled in the Southwest, water flows. In addition, there are playa lakes in wet years and some more permanent ponds along the river valley. Consequently, there is some waterfowl hunting. On the last day of this last season, A, Booker and I headed out to some public access ponds to give the birds a try.



Unfortunately, the wind never did pick up, the weather was relatively warm and the birds, predictably, did not fly.





Those of us who hunt ducks learn that mirrored ponds, while photogenic, are of little help in attracting birds. Once it became clear that the wind wasn't going to kick up and the birds would not be trading around, we packed up to head out. Once I emerged from the reeds, a bird did flush from a bit further down the edge and flew, well, mostly flew, for cover. End of the season and all, I swung and fired, only to see him pitch into thick reeds where it took Booker a good fifteen minutes to nose him out.



Books did make the retrieve, though, the only one all season. I did it for the dog and, in the end, they all taste the same in gumbo, right?

no water

A few days ago, Chad Love of the Mallard of Discontent posted about the lack of water in his early season ducking haunts over in Oklahoma. Full of hubris or too cocksure, I commented that "at least our river is still flowing". I should have checked first.



That's Booker and I standing right in the middle of the main, and only, channel!
This'll be my eleventh or twelfth season hunting the Rio Grande and this is the lowest I've ever seen it at this time of year. The water will come up once irrigation season ends in November, but it's going to have to come way, way up for there to be enough water to float (or attract) many birds.



Nonetheless, we saw a few ducks on our scout and made some preparations for the season.








Duck season starts this upcoming week. It's usually slow at first, with the lack of water I'm guessing it'll be really slow, but we lucked into sandhill crane permits for later in the year and are looking forward to a chance at the "ribeye of the sky" as well as more ducks once they re-water the river and some (hoped for) bad weather up north pushes them down.

birds on a wire

Courtesy of my Dad over in SE Texas, photos of the whistling ducks that have been hanging out on the powerline by their house every morning. Something just wrong about seeing that waterfowl silhouette from this angle and in such a location.








Ah, the melodious chirp of the duck, greeting the dawn!

Persistence

So, last fall we were driving out after a slow day duck hunting when we spotted a drake mallard in a riverside drain. Uncharacteristically, the bird didn't fly, so we eased past it a good ways then walked back down the road to flush it. The drake went down wing tipped and swam for the bank. We got the dog on the spot and this is the video of the retrieve.

Booker located the mallard in a beaver hole. At about the two minute mark Booker starts digging and eventually gets the bird to flush from the hole, then runs him down. Unfortunately, most of the action occurs into the sun and behind a Russian Olive. Edited a bit for length:

End of the Duck Season

Last weekend saw the end of duck hunting, the end of fall, really, as I see it. We didn't get out, being busy with other worthwhile pursuits, but we did make a last hunt the weekend before.

We set up on the west side of the river, bad because you face back into the rising sun, but thorough camouflage and plenty of overhanging vegetation on the steep bank mitigated the problem.






The ducks liked the spot we set up pretty well, so we had some birds dropping in, mostly right over our heads. Hard shooting, but fun.



That banded bird on the end picked up his jewelry two weeks earlier and twenty miles away. Not a whole lot of info for the biologists, I'm afraid.

Since it runs ninety days, I always feel like I have worlds of time when duck season starts. Lots of weekends to get out, chances to tweak the set up, find different spots, adjust to the ever-changing river. All of the sudden, the holidays are done and only a day or two is left. Looking back, we didn't make all that many hunts after all. I think there is a lesson in there about taking advantage of a situation while you can.



Next year!

Goose, goose, goose

Last year we happened into a Greater Canada Goose.

This year, we prepped a bit more, put out a couple of goose decoys just off the duck spread. I even packed a goose call and practiced my "her- onk!" a bit. Didn't matter much, as I didn't call at 'em. Another slow day for ducks. New spot, and the ducks weren't liking the spread. After an hour, though it was still prime time, we loaded up all the blocks and moved upriver a couple of hundred yards to where a couple of bunches had gone in. We were just set up when a small bunch of mallards landed at the tail end of the spread, then took off to a couple of hasty shots that didn't score. "Here we go", I thought "we're in the spot". However, the flights pretty much stopped and no more birds came in, to speak of.

We were standing up, discussing packing it in, when I looked downriver and saw a bunch of birds. Geese! We got down and watched them come- fourteen or so big Canadas. They didn't call, so I didn't call either, and they set wings and came right in.

One goose per hunter made for a pretty good day:




First goose retrieve for Booker, who seems to have left his limber tail woes behind:





Goose frites, goose leg confit, stock or soup. A morning of watching, a few moments of excitement, and a number of good meals to follow.

eclipse plumage?

A is out of town on business and, my work being closed yesterday, Booker and I went out to chase ducks. We found a few, with a bunch of mallards and a bunch of wigeon each trying to land on us twenty minutes after legal shooting hours and just as the light got good enough for me to be comfortable shooting. We knocked down a bird out of each bunch and then proceeded to wait and watch as nearly everything quit flying. We passed a hen mallard that didn't try to come in and then were passed in turn by another half-dozen wigeon. After a couple of hours a bird came down river flying low and slipped right over the decoys. The bird backlit, I saw green on the head and decided "drake mallard" and shot, knocking it down. Booker began a less than spectacular retrieve.

Here he is barely keeping the bird in hand, as it were:



When he got it to me after a quick re-position I figured I had a hen mallard. On closer look, the bird had the yellow bill with black tip of a drake, a black tail with curly tailfeathers, and a streak of bright green on either side of the head, fading up toward the top. Apart from that, it sported the mottled feathering of a hen mallard along with the dark blue speculum that you'd expect. Perhaps a bird that had remained in eclipse plumage (though that shouldn't be, so far south and this time of year), or a hybrid, or a "manky mallard". The bird is still alive in the last photo and I was a bit uncertain about putting it up. If folks think it's inappropriate, I'll pull it. In any event, by the time Booker had gotten all the way in, the bird had expired. No surprise, given the obvious head wound.









No closeup photos for the 'net, they were all a bit too gory. Interesting bird, anyway. The green on the head was a lot more prominent in hand.

The only other adventure for the day came when a slipped in ankle deep water while moving a couple of decoys and managed to go down, losing the shotgun off my shoulder and dunking it completely underwater and into the mud. Curses ensued. With any decent luck at all, that's an entire season's worth of falling in water right there. Once again erect, I took off my right glove (full of water) and unloaded, pouring water out of the barrel, magazine tube, receiver and (hooray, plastic!) stock. Back on dry land I wiped off the mud, checked the barrel, then blasted it interior of the receiver with "One Shot" cleaner and dry lube. WD-40 would have been a better choice under the circumstances, in terms of hosing out bits of grit and removing water, but the Hornady stuff worked well enough to keep the gun functioning. I've used it before to keep a balky autoloader running more smoothly, but this was a significantly tougher test. Also, dry lube is a good choice in this country of blowing sand.

Once home, I had over an hour of breaking the gun all the way down, cleaning it very thoroughly, then lubing and reassembling. Probably could have used a good cleaning, anyway.

only one

Well, if you're only going to get one duck in a morning's hunt, it's pretty hard to beat a nice big mallard drake that decoys in and turns out to be flashing some jewelry.



Other highlights of the morning were an amazing moonset, for which I had forgotten the camera, lots of sky-high snow geese, cranes, being buzzed by a pair of widgeon traveling at least 60 mph before the shooting started, and the previous night's spinach and onion quiche for lunch.

Duck, Duck, Goose!!!

As of yesterday, this blog is two years old as I figure it. I set up the page in December but didn't get going until January and, since then, I've managed to more or less meet my goal of posting once a week on average. That's not very prolific, but it's often enough that I have to work at it a bit. In any event, the first post of that New Year was mostly about waterfowl hunting and, as it turns out, that's still what I'm going to talk about.

'09 has already seen a couple of days spent chasing ducks. A new setup on the first hunt, trying a slightly different bend in the river, brought the birds in. Two bunches were really big by my standards- twenty or so mallards. The first of those came in just as I'd gotten up and headed away from cover to clear flotsam off the cords on a couple of decoys. Fortunately, I saw the birds when they were still well out and was able to huddle against the cut bank of the river, rather than getting caught out in the wide open. They swirled and circled and chattered and came right on in. A few minutes after the first big bunch another decoyed nearly the same way and a fine fat drake mallard fell out of each. Three drakes, all shot feet down and decoying, made for successful morning as I count things.


Sorry for the thumb in the frame on this one. I put the photo up anyway because I envision the expression on the dog's face to be something along the lines of "I'm fighting current after a sixty-yard water retrieve and he's taking pictures". I also admire the wake Booker can cut through the current when he's working at it.

In any event, taking advantage of time off and heading back out the next day, we found our spot taken by earlier-rising hunters and headed up river for Plan B. The setup looked good to me, a nice pocket off the main channel where a side channel returned, but the ducks just didn't like it, except for one single that managed to fly through the pattern unharmed.



Fortune ultimately shone her face on us, though. The area I hunt has a short dark goose season and a population of Hi-Line giant Canada Geese. The limit is one bird and you have to get a permit in addition to your regular license before you can hunt. Talking with A, I opined that if we got permits, we'd never see a goose (based upon previous experience) but that if we didn't take the trouble to go by the Game and Fish office for the license, at least one bunch of honkers would fly by within range. Some years I have geese come by, some years they even come by in range, but geese coming by in range, during the season, while permitted (it used to be a draw for a tag) requires an awful lot of luck. Nevertheless, having a bit of time in the afternoon, we made the trip and picked up permits.

So, with the ducks not liking the setup even after the spread had been tweaked and the morning's flight seeming to slow, I was watching a bunch of snow geese in the near distance (and well above range) when I heard Canadas somewhere down river. Flying up river. Toward us. Amazingly enough, a group of the big birds flew right over our location, only thirty feet or so up. Close enough that there wasn't any worry about not having thrown any goose loads in the bag that morning.







That's my first giant Canada goose and one of fewer than a half dozen Canadas I've taken to date. Spectacular, beautiful big bird.

That afternoon, I set to plucking. Note- only one pellet hole in the breast. If you're really good, you don't shoot up the eatin' parts :)



Booker got a little close checking out the process. He considers all birds to be his property.



Long way around that dude and lots of down to get off-



Guess he's never going to get done with that bird-




5 lb, 14 oz. plucked, dressed, & ready for the table.



So, the question presents itself- cassoulet? Roast goose? I know a very good red wine is in the future to celebrate this good fortune, I'll have to spend some thought and some time, browsing Hank's archives and other places looking for recipes before settling on the exact method of preparation.

MRGV

Down on the middle Rio Grande, you can start off looking for ducks



most recently with little success, but some bag



and end up chasing quail (which can be tough to find) in your shirtsleeves.



Hard life.




Just beware the river ghost:



He'll charge by, splashing freezing water and mud in the dark.