Happy Birthday to Me

The longer I live, the less important my birthday becomes to me.  Don't get me wrong, I would far prefer to keep having birthdays than the alternative.  In my head, I am still 20 years old, with endless energy and enthusiasm, but all to often my body reminds me that this just isn't the case.  Birthday gifts and parties only seem to remind me of the painfully obvious fact that I am just getting older.  I would just prefer the company of those friends and family that mean so much, no need to draw more attention to the day than necessary.   Well, I say that, but some presents are REALLY cool...

Roux and I were invited to accompany a good friend and his son on an early season goose hunt in New York (I have found having a good hunting dog all but guarantees hunt invites).  We would be hunting with another good friend, Craig Southard of Southern Tier Outfitters.  When I checked the dates, I found the second day fell on my birthday.  When it was made clear that I would be home in time for birthday dinner with the family, my permission to go was issued.  I couldn't wait, as I always enjoy my trips to the Empire State.

We arrived on Friday night, and quickly got our gear arranged and ready for a early wake-up call.  Saturday morning, we made a hour long trip to a cow pasture and pond which sat high on a hill overlooking a deep valley.  I can say without hesitation that this was the most beautiful place I have ever goose hunted, and that says something.  We busied ourselves setting and grassing our blinds and placing our decoys.  The farmer's cows provided some amusement and frustration, but we were able to finally move them out of harm's way.

Not a common problem

Soon the geese were flying, some coming over the hill behind us and dropping into the decoys, but most came from the valley.  This may have been one of the neatest things I have ever seen, watching geese flying down the valley, well below our set-up, and turn coming up the hill below us.  It is not often you get to look DOWN on geese flying into your spread!  Only at the very last minute would we sit up and fire, raining geese into the pasture.  Roux did a great job hauling back some of the biggest geese I have seen in quite some time.  In short order, we had 24 geese on the ground, a lot to be sure, but well short of New York's new 15 bird/man/day early season limit.  Still, it was plenty for us, and the birds appeared to be done flying anyway.  We made our way back to the hotel and after a great dinner and some adult refreshments, we were ready to hit the sack.

Roux knows how important it is to be well hidden!

Sunday morning (my birthday) rolled around much quicker than my aging body would have liked, but thankfully we were hunting only minutes from where we were staying.  We made the short drive to the field, pleasantly surprised to see the blinds already placed and hidden and the decoys sitting in the heavy fog shrouding a cut oat field.  The blinds were practically invisible in some standing alfalfa just off the oats...a perfect set up.  The fog was so thick that sunrise was barely detectable.  However, it did not deter the geese one bit.  They came generally in small flocks, heard long before they were seen.  They seemed to materialize out of the fog, only 60-70 yards out when finally visible.  They coasted right into the decoys, and were met with withering fire from the blinds.  VERY few birds actually made it out of the field unscathed, and our pile of birds quickly grew.

New York Geese are BIG!

A flock of four came in low off the right side of the decoys, and we fired, dropping all four.  Roux charged out to start cleaning up, and the first bird back to the blinds sported a leg band!  Normally, this would be when some game would be devised to allow claiming the prize, but my good friends all smiled and wished me "Happy Birthday!"  I was humbled by the generosity of the gesture.

A Little Birthday Bling!

We ended the day with 21 geese, making a total of 45 for my birthday weekend.  I reported the band, and found my bird was banded in 2010 along the St Lawrence River in southern Ontario.  What a great trip, a perfect birthday for sure.  Without a doubt, great friends and great dogs are what make this sport we call waterfowling what it is!

Until next time, remember,

Brown is Beautiful

Flying solo

I used to be a diehard deer hunter.  Sitting hours on end high up in a tree, all by myself, waiting for the buck of my dreams to sneak by, was how I spent just about any time I could get away.  I still like to deer hunt, but it is now more of a way to pass the time when waterfowl season isn't open, as well as to insure the stockpile of tasty venison doesnt get too low.  As I tell my friends, I used to think I really loved to hunt, but what I have learned is that I really like to get up early on cold mornings to drink coffee, smoke cigars, watch dogs work and maybe shoot a duck or a goose every now and then.  Some of my favorite moments not spent with family have been with good friends in less than exotic locations doing just that.  Early season is generally a very festive time with my hunting friends.  Often we enjoy hunts for resident geese, in standing corn, where we can hide sometimes 10 or more guys.  How we manage to shoot anything is a mystery, as we are generally too busy laughing and trying to keep our cigars lit than actually looking for birds.  The same could be said for dove shoots in big cut silage fields, taunting each other and critiquing shooting performance.  It is a social event beyond compare.  So I guess that is what made this hunt very different, but still very enjoyable.

After a nice goose hunt with a close friend on Friday, I made plans to hunt with him and another partner on Saturday, the opening day for teal.  However, one guy "never got the message" (or so he says), and partner number one remembered at the last minute a family commitment that would preclude him from hunting.  With these developments, I had two choices: sleep in or go by myself.  While tempting, the choice was easy.  I have a hard time NOT hunting when season is open, the days of sleeping in are over until February.  Roux and I headed out and set up on a small farm pond in a cow pasture.  We made short work of getting set up and enjoyed a beautiful sunrise all to ourselves.  Soon after sunrise, a large flock of geese gave us a look, but circled and headed out, safely out of range.  I was troubled by this development, and was looking around to see what the problem was, when a small flock of geese came from over my right shoulder.  I sat up and shot twice, dumping 2 geese into the pond, swung on a third but my gun wouldn't fire...seems I was enjoying the sunrise so much that I only put 2 shells in.  I must be slipping...  Roux made 2 fine retrieves to hand.

Bringing one back!

We barely had time to congratulate ourselves and get back in the blinds when a small duck buzzed the decoys and banked back around, showing his big blue shoulder patches.  When he passed me again, I fired as he crossed the pond levee.  I could see he was hit, and I watched as he crash landed 150 yards out in the pasture.   I stood up to line Roux up for a blind retrieve, but a honk over my shoulder made me hit the deck.  Another small flock of geese was making a bee line for the pond, and I let them get out in front with feet down before I sat up.  An honest triple followed, and my limit of geese was done. Roux looked at me and waited for the call to go.  I sent him and he made three beautiful retrieves, ferreting one goose out of thick weeds on the opposite side of the pond.  Next we walked to the pond levee and I lined him up on the last place I saw the teal.  I sent him and 2 whistles later I saw his head whip around and his tail go crazy.  He lunged into some tall weeds, and trotted back with a perfect blue wing teal in his mouth.  I looked at my watch,  7:40 AM.  Not a bad morning, for sure.  We hastily took some pictures and picked up, hoping to leave any other birds wanting in undisturbed.

Roux was very proud of himself.  I was proud of him, too.

I dont hunt waterfowl very often by myself, far preferring the raucous company of the best friends a guy could ask for.  However, this hunt was very special to me.  Just Brown Dog and me, doing what we both love so much.  Not sure I would change it, even if I could.  My only regret was that my only witness to shooting 6 birds with 6 shots was Roux...and he ain't talking.  Oh well.

Not bad for 40 minutes of hunt time!

Until next time, remember,

Brown is Beautiful