It was a Cold and rainy morning. This was my third day hunting out of the bluebill, with no success to speak of due to factors outside of a duck hunters control. Skittish ducks from the blasting of opening-weekend. Opener was productive for us, but I hunted a private lake with permanent blinds for that.
I dumped the bluebill into the water in the dark, and it began to really pour. The forecast was thunderstorms, but it's hard to keep a hunter down. There is no hunter more determined to suffer in the cold and wind than a duck hunter, and I am no exception to that rule. The rain let up as I pulled on the mercury a few times, warming the pistons and sucking gas through into the cylinders. After it fired and warmed a moment, I motored away towards what I call "the armpit" of the local lake I hunt I between trips to big water destinations. Having never been able to get where I was now headed with my big wave cutting Lund, this was really an adventurous feeling indeed.
I slowed down and tilted the motor up to help it not choke with the thick Lillie's and milfoil in the armpit - stoping every so often to tilt it out I the water and clear the caught weeds. I made it to a small stand of cattails and set out a small spread of mixed decoys - mallards, wood ducks, and teal. I cut a few cattails from a nearby bog to stuff into the grass cords on the boat, and the. Motored into my small (8x10) patch of cattails, and camouflaged the boat, laying down with camo netting covering my legs in the cockpit of the boat. I overheated in my thermal shirt doing all this, so I started to take off my jacket in a lull in the rain, and my wet hands stuck in the sleeves. So here I am, struggling to get my jacket off with my hands stuck in the sleeves, and the rain picks back up. I finally free my hands and get the shirt off, now wet, and struggle to get the jacket back on and pull my waders back up.
Now wet, I lay down and wait for shooting time, shining my spotlight at the one other boat that shows up and turns around.
As shooting time came, the rain stopped, and the wind picked up. No ducks flew for some time, surprisingly, but I remained hopeful. I hear the wings of a few small groups of mallards, too high in the low light to even see. Things were still looking slow, but I hoped for the best. Still waiting a half hour later, no sooner did I say "there's no ducks here." Than a triple of passing woodies dropped air to take a look a my decoys. Reading them, they were going to pass over and land long. The lead duck veered off, but the rear two were still coming strong, losing altitude quickly, and came right over the decoys on my left side. I fired the first time and missed cleanly, but the second shot made it's mark on the "middle" bird, bringing him splashing close to the boat. Still quite alive, after he saw me moving to find him in the water, he began to try and flap away, and my gun had a failure to feed (from the rain) - with a quick movement I fed the next shell in and lined up, finishing him off cleanly.
Seeing he now wasn't going anywhere, I let him lie until I was ready to pick up, or until I shot another duck or two.
All I did the rest of my hour long hunt was enjoy the smell of the marsh, and the cold wind on my face. I watched two teal fly by, too far and too fast for a shot.
I picked up, running Out of time before I have to leave before work. I was delighted to find it was such a high quality drake I had bagged, and picked up the blocks, motoring back to the landing. A happy, wet, duck hunter that suffered for three hours for a single duck in a new boat, and it was definitely well worth it.
Feels good to finally break the Ice in the new boat
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