The Zone

Coalman · Posted: Tue Oct 04, 2011 11:29 am Post subject: Thunderstorm Woodies

10-04-11
Woke up at 4AM this morning and it was raining. When I closed my eyes again all I could see was Bay retrieving a duck at the beaver pond. I tried to talk myself out of going hunting. Like a song stuck in your head my inner voice was saying..."Opening Day 2011......it will never come again"

Following a flashlight beam in a steady rain Bay and I eased to the shore at 0558. Just about that time the sky lit up like noon. Lightning followed by thunder boomers in the distance. When the clock said half hour to sunrise it was raining so hard you couldn't see a duck. But we could sure hear them. All wood ducks, all whistles. No teal, no mallards.

When a lightning bolt flashed and I heard the air sizzle it was time to rethink standing on the edge of a body of water carrying an 870 with a 30” steel barrel. Visions of lightning rods danced in my head.

The canoe was tilted bottom up and wedged along a tree branch. This became our hideaway.

In-between downpours we left our shelter and scanned the skies. Not much flying. There was no reason too. We had the pond to ourselves. The wood ducks were whistling Dixie in our pond listening to their brethren being shot at from the east.

No shots were fired from the Remington this morning. Instead we watched and listened to the rhythm of the pond. Knowing our location was still secret and full of ducks I wanted more time on point. Shooting lanes need to be cleared. Our blind from last year is under water.

Saturday is another day

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Your eye in the Northeast sky.
Coalman's Online Blog http://coalmansblog.com

RutnNStrutn · Posted: Tue Oct 04, 2011 4:10 pm Post subject:

Sounds like a cool experience. Looking forward to your report from next Saturday.
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All we need to do is call those hens across this field.

Coalman · Posted: Fri Oct 07, 2011 6:52 pm Post subject: Woodies are whistling in my head.

The woodies are whistling in my head.

We got to the beaver pond early Tuesday. All was quiet. About the time the tree tops became visible the woodies started whistling. That is an October sound to me. More like music to these aging ears.

Sleep will come hard tonight. We will be on natures clock tomorrow. Florescent tacks will light the way. My heart is my GPS.

Shooting time is 0618 tomorrow. I feel like a kid again.
_________________
Your eye in the Northeast sky.
Coalman's Online Blog http://coalmansblog.com

Coalman · Posted: Sat Oct 08, 2011 9:15 am Post subject: Band Conductor

10-08-11
The orchestra was seated when we arrived at the beaver pond this morning. The flutes were practicing with soft whistles. When the curtain rose distant drums started to pound in faraway ponds. Standing on the shore the Remington became my baton.

My poor shooting once again kept Bay from retrieving her first duck. Ducks 5, Coalman 0.

Boy did I get a mouth full.

The flutes continued to play. The music of whistling woodies with their feet in the water came from far and near. They didn't fly. With only one man and one dog they were not too frightened. They just swam out of harms way.

Suddenly in the distance a bass tuba started to honk. Closer and close the sound approached the podium. The 870 barked when they were overhead and tree top level.

The grand finale' of tubas and soft flutes could be heard as Bay tackled her first goose. No retrieve was necessary. Our tuba fell on the pond edge.

Our quest for Daffy Duck continues but we can scratch a goose off our bucket list.

_________________
Your eye in the Northeast sky.
Coalman's Online Blog http://coalmansblog.com

Coalman · Posted: Sun Oct 09, 2011 1:00 pm Post subject: Quiet morning.

It was ten degrees warmer this morning than yesterday when the Ford slipped into its parking spot. I had my choice of spaces. Once again we were alone. An early error in trail choices had me backtracking to the mill to get my bearings. When we stood next to the canoe the clock said 0610. Shooting time was 0620.

The next ten minutes until legal time were my favorite. The sounds and smells reached deep into the pocket of my waterfowl memories. A lifetime of hunting beaver pond ducks were relived in that small fraction of time.

I swung my gun left and I swung my gun right at departing birds but my brain didn't give the last OK. I was looking for a gimme. Three drake woodies made their presence known from behind me by the sound of their wings. A short mouth whistle made them turn. Could this be the chip shot I needed?

Across the skyline they came. The Remington had them on the radar. As they turned and cupped they came below the treeline. At which time I lost sight of them. I can still see the three blurs going by at eye level. There just wasn't enough light yet. My ball was too deep in the rough. This was my only chance at the green this morning. I took a penalty stroke and picked up my ball.

While our bag has been light from our three trips to the beaver pond this week our cart is overloaded. Today Bay sat at my feet for the first hour of the hunt. We were visited by a muskrat. A young beaver swam by at barrel length. There were numerous hawk sightings. Fish could be seen rising any time you looked at the pond. We held a conversation with a sneaky mallard until our departure.

The last time the beavers were allowed to flood the swamp Tom shot an eleven point buck below the second dam. Knowing how beavers change the landscape and how deer are habitual, Bay and I jump shot the brook on the way back to the truck. Standing below the second dam I saw numerous deer trails crossing the narrow stream.

I don't think I'll tell Tom. Very Happy

_________________
Your eye in the Northeast sky.
Coalman's Online Blog http://coalmansblog.com