Steve Sanford
Well-known member
The Two That Really Count
All~
You may have seen my partner's (Jamie Woods') recent account of the first wing-shooting I have attempted since losing my master eye (right eye) vision late last October. For the sake of safety, I did not try to shoot anything left handed - at least not airborne quarry - since that time. I was content to spend most of last season in the company of others, helping with the boats, blinds, decoys and victuals. I am sure we have all found that hosting or guiding has its own rich.ness...
Nevertheless - as That Magical Season approaches - a bit ahead of schedule this year - 'twas time once again to put a gun to my shoulder - the "other" shoulder nowadays - and see what happens.
My first shot - 2 days ago in our Special September Goose Season - was successful in that my first pull of the trigger ultimately resulted in a bird hanging on the north side of the barn - and later filleted.
View attachment sm 2020 Canada - Kheel September 23.JPG
However, the experience was much less than anticipated. Lab results have not fully illuminated the cause of the Canada's demise. I may have brought it down with my first shot...it may have been terrified by my mere (albeit frightful) reputation...or it may have been poisoned by Vladimir Putin...
World will never know or sure - although the filleting process found 4 likely pellet paths through the after end of the flight muscles. Thus, as we exited the beaver marsh, there was precious little joy in Mudville - no sense of accomplishment or success. Certainly not the "memorable shot" that is a key ingredient of waterfowl hunting for my compatriots and me.
I am happy to report, though, that I left the same marsh with true elation earlier today. I was alone and sported my pirate attire - the black eye-patch over my right eye - but the morning was in many ways a repeat of Wednesday. Flat calm, just barely chilly, not lots of birds on the marsh - but enough Woodies and a few Greenwings and Hoodies. Crows, Ravens, Blue Jays, Towhees and Phoebes called all morning - as did a single Kingfisher. A band of Yellowthroats hunted their way past my blind. When I arrived in the pre-dawn darkness, a handful of Geese left the spot where my dozen decoys would be set. A few ducks - safe from me for another 3 weeks - gave me nice looks and even landed nearby. And, just as happened Wednesday, I heard my first distant honking around quarter past seven. I responded with my most earnest pleas and could hear them responding and approaching from the Southwest. At about a hundred yards, a pair appeared right above the tops of some magnificent White Pines on the opposite shore. And then - a gift that put their approach in the Unforgettable category - they whiffled their way down toward the water and toward the rig. I shall always remember their bodies and feet swinging wildly side-to-side and their wings held high and contorted to spill the wind and drop altitude. They made a line straight for The Spot and then - as we have seen so many times at this location - veered left at the last moment. They presented a nice crossing shot at about 25 yards as they had their eyes on the big open lead just beyond the decoys. Before raising the gun - my Dad's venerable Winchester Model 50 - I switched off the safety. The safety - really a trigger lock - is still as it was installed at the factory in 1954 - set up for a right-handed shooter. I quickly found my first target - the trailing bird - and dropped it in the rig. I squandered my second round shooting through some brush, merely hoping that I was on target. I was not. However, by the time I was ready for the third bullet, I saw the hoped-for sight-picture and pulled the trigger at the right moment: head and wings thrown back as it sprawled in a cartwheel downward. I could not see it actually splash down but was fairly certain I had achieved my "dead in the air" goal.
As on Wednesday, I retained a curious inability to make the coup de grace shot (s) on the first bird. I paddled over to her later and dispatched her with the time-honored manual technique. The second bird - probably a 40-yard shot - was as I had hoped. No evidence that it so much as twitched once on the water.
I had no camera with me - so could not document the evidence until I got back to the farm. The gander was 10 pounds and the goose was 9.
View attachment One eye - 2 birds.JPG
Today is the final day of our September season. The breast fillets will be shared with friends over the next couple of days. More important - I am prepared to be back afield with shotgun at the ready, confident that I will do justice to the birds and present no threat to my companions. According to my own formula - S7 - the Steve Sanford Self-Serving Shooting Score System - I am 3 for 3. I have enjoyed 3 at-bats and come home with 3 birds. I and the left side of my body are ready.
All the best,
SJS (aka Rooster Foghorn)
All~
You may have seen my partner's (Jamie Woods') recent account of the first wing-shooting I have attempted since losing my master eye (right eye) vision late last October. For the sake of safety, I did not try to shoot anything left handed - at least not airborne quarry - since that time. I was content to spend most of last season in the company of others, helping with the boats, blinds, decoys and victuals. I am sure we have all found that hosting or guiding has its own rich.ness...
Nevertheless - as That Magical Season approaches - a bit ahead of schedule this year - 'twas time once again to put a gun to my shoulder - the "other" shoulder nowadays - and see what happens.
My first shot - 2 days ago in our Special September Goose Season - was successful in that my first pull of the trigger ultimately resulted in a bird hanging on the north side of the barn - and later filleted.
View attachment sm 2020 Canada - Kheel September 23.JPG
However, the experience was much less than anticipated. Lab results have not fully illuminated the cause of the Canada's demise. I may have brought it down with my first shot...it may have been terrified by my mere (albeit frightful) reputation...or it may have been poisoned by Vladimir Putin...
World will never know or sure - although the filleting process found 4 likely pellet paths through the after end of the flight muscles. Thus, as we exited the beaver marsh, there was precious little joy in Mudville - no sense of accomplishment or success. Certainly not the "memorable shot" that is a key ingredient of waterfowl hunting for my compatriots and me.
I am happy to report, though, that I left the same marsh with true elation earlier today. I was alone and sported my pirate attire - the black eye-patch over my right eye - but the morning was in many ways a repeat of Wednesday. Flat calm, just barely chilly, not lots of birds on the marsh - but enough Woodies and a few Greenwings and Hoodies. Crows, Ravens, Blue Jays, Towhees and Phoebes called all morning - as did a single Kingfisher. A band of Yellowthroats hunted their way past my blind. When I arrived in the pre-dawn darkness, a handful of Geese left the spot where my dozen decoys would be set. A few ducks - safe from me for another 3 weeks - gave me nice looks and even landed nearby. And, just as happened Wednesday, I heard my first distant honking around quarter past seven. I responded with my most earnest pleas and could hear them responding and approaching from the Southwest. At about a hundred yards, a pair appeared right above the tops of some magnificent White Pines on the opposite shore. And then - a gift that put their approach in the Unforgettable category - they whiffled their way down toward the water and toward the rig. I shall always remember their bodies and feet swinging wildly side-to-side and their wings held high and contorted to spill the wind and drop altitude. They made a line straight for The Spot and then - as we have seen so many times at this location - veered left at the last moment. They presented a nice crossing shot at about 25 yards as they had their eyes on the big open lead just beyond the decoys. Before raising the gun - my Dad's venerable Winchester Model 50 - I switched off the safety. The safety - really a trigger lock - is still as it was installed at the factory in 1954 - set up for a right-handed shooter. I quickly found my first target - the trailing bird - and dropped it in the rig. I squandered my second round shooting through some brush, merely hoping that I was on target. I was not. However, by the time I was ready for the third bullet, I saw the hoped-for sight-picture and pulled the trigger at the right moment: head and wings thrown back as it sprawled in a cartwheel downward. I could not see it actually splash down but was fairly certain I had achieved my "dead in the air" goal.
As on Wednesday, I retained a curious inability to make the coup de grace shot (s) on the first bird. I paddled over to her later and dispatched her with the time-honored manual technique. The second bird - probably a 40-yard shot - was as I had hoped. No evidence that it so much as twitched once on the water.
I had no camera with me - so could not document the evidence until I got back to the farm. The gander was 10 pounds and the goose was 9.
View attachment One eye - 2 birds.JPG
Today is the final day of our September season. The breast fillets will be shared with friends over the next couple of days. More important - I am prepared to be back afield with shotgun at the ready, confident that I will do justice to the birds and present no threat to my companions. According to my own formula - S7 - the Steve Sanford Self-Serving Shooting Score System - I am 3 for 3. I have enjoyed 3 at-bats and come home with 3 birds. I and the left side of my body are ready.
All the best,
SJS (aka Rooster Foghorn)
