Here are a few for the two of you. Grandpa is in our prayers. I know you will take good care of him, Cody.
Al
“TO CATCH A THIEF”
Probably one of the funniest things to have happened to me while hunting ducks occurred a couple of years ago during our early teal season. It was one of those typical days in September where the temps were running on the warm side (+70's) as soon as the sun got up over the horizon. In other words, not a very good day for hunting ducks.
On this third day of the season, I had only downed one teal and that happened to be a drake blue-wing. Chili had made a nice retrieve but that was about it. I remember placing the duck in the grass and looking at it trying to see if it was an adult or juvenile from the information that the waterfowl biologist had given me. There were no other ducks flying around so I decided to take a walk to the north about a half- mile and see if I couldn’t jump shoot some teal along the way. About the only thing that was doing me any good on the walk was that I probably lost a couple of pounds and that the exercise was good for me, because Chili and I saw nothing.
Upon returning, I decided to pack up the decoys and go home. There was no sense to stay because there just weren’t any ducks flying around. As I was about to load the sack of dekes on the four-wheeler, I remembered the duck that I had placed in the grass. I walked to the spot where I had put it down and could find nothing. I finally called Chili over hoping that her nose could lead me to the teal that I had some how misplaced. That didn’t work either. All I could recall was thinking how strange this all was. Being 63 years old at the time, also didn’t help, because I thought I was having a “senior moment” right about then! I got in the truck and left.
On my way home I came around a bend in the road and noticed a fancy Ford pickup parked in front of me with lights flashing all over the grill. It finally dawned on me that the two guys outside of their rig , waving me over towards them, were probably game wardens and sure enough they were. In fact, in my lifetime of hunting, this was the first time that I had ever been checked by federal game wardens. By the way, they were extremely courteous.
One of them looked at my license while the other went about checking my gun for a plug. When they had finished with that one of the wardens looked at me and asked, “Sir, could we please see your ducks?” “Well, sir,” I replied, “ I only shot one drake blue-wing teal this morning and I would love to show it to you but somehow it ended up missing. I had taken my dog for a walk along the road to see if we couldn’t do some jump shooting and when we got back to our old spot where I had placed the duck, it had just plain disappeared-----vanished into thin air!” The one warden looked at the other and then said, “Well, now it all makes sense. When we drove past the area where your decoys were set up, a coyote dashed across the road in front of us with a duck hanging out of his mouth.”
“IDENTITY CRISIS”
During the second week of January, in 2005, I had received some information from Delta Waterfowl, telling me all about their program called “Voluntary Restraint”. I thought this was a great idea and sent them a donation. It was all about making sure you recognized the ducks you were shooting at and trying your hardest to take only drakes. That is one practice that I conscientiously do all of the time.
About a week had gone by and I was out on the Rio Grande hunting ducks. What a fantastic morning it turned out to be. At first shooting light, I had a lone drake mallard come barreling into my decoys. When he started to back pedal with his wings and he had his feet set out in front of him, I took him out with one shot. Chili dashed into the river and retrieved him. She had no sooner gotten back with the duck when a pair of mallards came flying by. I got on my duck call and I guess I was persuasive enough with it to turn them around and take another look at my spread. As they cupped their wings and made a slow downward circle to come in I took a bead on the drake and fired. To my dismay, both ducks crumpled in mid-air. I had taken a Dutch double, but darn it, I had also killed a hen. Chili was once again very busy and she brought back both ducks and gave them to me. Hey, this wasn’t all bad. I had taken two shots and had three ducks in my possession.
I learned very quickly when I started hunting with Chili that her eyesight is a lot better than mine. I glanced over to see what she was up to and noticed that she had a fixed gaze on something. Sure enough, I was able to see the duck she saw flying towards us. I quickly got on my double reed call and coaxed it over. This lonesome drake came calling right into our area with the morning light behind it. With one shot, it folded and crashed onto the bank of the river. I’ll bet that Chili didn’t have to run twenty-five feet to retrieve it. I had to chuckle when I noticed that it was a Mexican duck. I quickly recalled the first one that I had ever taken. I thought I was going nuts because I had heard the distinctive sounds that a drake mallard makes, then shot it and found myself looking at a “HEN” mallard when I went over to pick it up. I know better now.
I was starting to get a big head over my shooting when a small flock of perhaps eight or nine mallards came by ready to land in the decoys. After taking careful aim, shooting and missing, I was quickly brought back to reality. This time I did get one of those looks from my dog as if to say, “Hey, you missed the duck!”
As the mountain that was just a little southeast of me started to become more visible, I had a moment to sit there, take a sip of coffee, and just soak up the beauty of my surroundings. To me, it was breath-taking. There is nothing in this world that is so beautiful as a New Mexico sunrise. I had no sooner put my coffee cup down when I heard the wings of the duck first. I looked up to see a greenhead, looking at my decoys----then at me, and it started to get out of the area as fast as it could. I quickly shouldered my Benelli Nova and fired. The Winchester 3" number 3 shot had found its mark once again and the drake crumpled in mid-air, then fell. Chili dashed out of the blind and got to the bird before the current of the river could take it downstream.
What a fantastic morning. I had taken five shots, and I had five ducks in my blind. With a cup of coffee in one hand, I started to look over my birds. I kept looking at the last drake mallard that some how just didn’t look right to me. At first I thought perhaps I had taken another (Mexican/mallard) hybrid but the beak of this bird ruled that out. The more I looked at it the more confusing this particular duck seemed to look. I swore that I was holding a drake mallard in my hand: there was green in the head, it had curly tail feathers, it had the chestnut color in the breast, it had the distinctive white ring around its neck, and the color of the wings and body were definitely all greenhead. However, I kept on going back to the beak, which had the brown blotches of the hen on it, but also had that yellow color of the greenhead on it. At the time it seemed just a little bit too confusing to me so I decided to pack up my gear and head back to the four-wheeler and go home. I had made up my mind to take this particular mallard to the state waterfowl biologist, Tim Mitchusson, and see if he knew what it was.
Upon arriving at Tim’s house, I found out that this bird was doing the same thing to him. It was totally confusing, so after we went over all of the possibilities, Tim finally looked at me and asked, “Al, do you mind if I open up this bird? I think it is the only way we will find out what it really is.” That was not a problem with me at all. “Well, look at that,” said Tim, as he pointed to HER ovaries! “Good grief, Tim, did I shoot a HE/SHE duck?” I asked. “Well, I have never seen one before, but the only thing I have ever heard them called was a Butch,” he replied.
This is my fifty-second year of hunting ducks and without a question, it was one of the most memorable! Who would ever think that a duck looking like a drake mallard would end up being a hen----
I then sent my HE/SHE duck to Dr. Bobby Cox, who is a federal waterfowl biologist,. living in South Dakota. He and Dr. Al Afton, of LSU, are writing a paper on this phenomenon, called “senescence” or the act of getting older. Bobby told me that this hen mallard was soooooo old that her body had completely stopped producing estrogen and had been producing testosterone. I still chuckle to myself when I think of Delta’s Voluntary Restraint program and my HE/SHE duck!
THE HUNT
By: Al Hansen
I opened my eyes and instantly smiled. I had once again awakened before the alarm went off. I don’t know what duck hunting has to do with it but it sure happens a lot to me during the season. I made sure it didn’t go off so I wouldn’t wake my wife. As I tried to quietly get out of the bedroom I heard her soft voice say, “Good luck on your hunt this morning.” I gave her a kiss and headed for the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. With that brewing, I was running my mental check list through my mind trying to make sure that I had everything ready for the hunt. With that seemingly being satisfied, I went to get Chili out of her kennel and then back to the house to pour the coffee. Everything seemed as ready as it could get.
The truck was loaded------the four-wheeler was in with my boat and very secure. My shotgun, boots, shells, decoys, thermos, and everything else I needed were all set. I called to Chili and got her in the back seat, poured a fresh cup of coffee, set the trip odometer, and headed out for another duck hunt.
If you own a dog, then you will know what I am talking about. While I was driving down the highway, Chili was sound asleep in the back seat. As I slowed to exit the interstate and started heading for my final destination, she had her head on my shoulder, tail wagging, and there was no doubt about it, she was ready!
I finally got to the parking area, pulled over, took a sip of luke warm coffee, and then began unloading my gear from the truck. It really didn’t take long to pack and tie down all the necessary equipment onto the four-wheeler and before I knew it, with Chili sitting behind me, I was off.
Chili and I bounced along that old gravel road and then did some cross country driving trying to avoid all of the greasewood sticks. They seem to go through my tires easier than a knife in butter. The last thing I needed was a flat tire. I finally arrived at my hunting area. The sky was jet black and the stars seemed to leap out at you when you looked up at them. It was a gorgeous night. I knew I had plenty of time so I thoroughly enjoyed checking out as many constellations as I could find. I was finally broken out of my trance by the constant nuzzling of my dog. She seemed to be saying, “Come on, let’s get going!”
Today was definitely going to be one of those lucky days. I just had that feeling. With my jon boat loaded and Chili up in the bow, I pushed out into the marsh. Push-poling is something new for me this year and I am finally starting to get the hang of it. It wasn’t too long ago that I found myself up to my shirt pockets in cold water, scrambling to save my gear that was either sinking out of sight or floating away.
It didn’t seem to take that long and with my head lamp I could finally see my blind. I unloaded all of the gear, made sure to get Chili on the pallets, and then proceeded to get my decoys placed where I thought they would prove to be the most effective. As I was wading around, I could hear the whistling of wings, the sounds made by feeding ducks, and the occasional call of the lone hen mallard. I was done with everything now, and all I had to do was go back, set up my old steel folding chair, pour myself a steaming hot cup of coffee, check my watch for how much time I had before shooting hours started, and load my gun.
I thought I had plenty of time but I guess I must have looked at the stars too long. From what the eastern sky was telling me and then with my watch confirming it all, I took one last sip of coffee, picked up my shotgun, and made sure everything was ready.
The ducks were really moving now. Just before legal shooting hours, and by the way, I firmly believe that some ducks seem to know “to the minute” when shooting hours start, about a hundred mallards leaped out of the cattails maybe heading for the Rio to lounge the day away. As I strained to look into the darkness I thought I saw some ducks to the south of me. Whenever I have a doubt I always look at Chili and she confirmed the fact that I indeed saw some because her fixed gaze was for real. It happened to be a small flock of mallards, perhaps fifteen or so. I got on my “Doc” call and gave them my best sounding lonesome hen call that I could muster and by golly they made a 180 and started heading straight for the decoys.. They made another circle but this one not so far out and then the leader, a nice fat old greenhead, totally committed the flock to my spread. With the sound of wings breaking the silence all around me, seeing feet stretched out in front ready to land, I seized the moment and leaped up with my Benelli Nova putting the bead square on that drake’s head. My finger was just starting to squeeze the trig-----Wha?????? What the heck is that noise?
My wife gently poked me as she turned off the alarm clock and said, “Honey, it is time to get up. Good morning.”
WOW----What a Day!
The alarm woke me at 4:00AM. After the coffee was made I put on my sandals and walked over to Chili’s kennel to let her out. That is when I was greeted with a sinister growl from her instead of her tail wagging antics. Seeing that she did not want to come near the door that I was holding open for her, I looked down by my feet and saw a large diamondback rattlesnake move out of her kennel and under the grapevine. My gosh, I can’t believe how fortunate I am. That rattler could have bitten me easily.
Well, with the snake now very dead, Chili and I jumped on the four-wheeler, drove down the driveway, and headed to the small pond that has been holding all of the ducks. I got there in a little over five minutes after leaving the house. I have to admit that I thought it was pretty cool to be able to go on a duck hunt from your home using only your atv. The only thing that wasn’t so cool was leaving my box of ammo in the truck. I had three shells in my pocket and four in the pocket of my waders. I have to stop making a habit of that.
Tim met me there not five minutes later and we had our blocks in the water maybe ten minutes prior to shooting hours. I plunked myself down among the wild sunflower plants and didn’t have long to wait before a half dozen of the little F-16's buzzed me at about ten feet. Another small group came in and headed for my decoys. Now it was light enough for me to see them good and I took a shot to watch three of them fall.. As I fired another duck got out of the wild millet and I nailed it. My hunt was over. I took a Norwegian triple and a single.
I ended up taking two BWT’s and two GWT’s. Tim put down four BWT’s and we were done. I think perhaps 15 minutes is all it took.
While I was picking up decoys my cell phone rang and it was John Vradenburg of Bosque Del Apache wanting to know if I would like to help process ducks that they had just trapped------I didn’t need a split second to think about that.
So Tim and I both went out there and helped with the 39 bluewings and one pintail that were trapped Each of the birds was given two swab samples, one in the mouth and the other anal. This is all for the ongoing testing looking for avian influenza (H5N1).
This is the most interesting part. In the past three days, Tim and I have taken 24 teal and only one was an adult. After we tabulated everything this morning at Bosque Del Apache NWR, all 39 teal were juveniles. Both biologists agreed that we sure did have a great hatch year for ducks!
Al
The Last Day of the Season
By: Al Hansen
No one in the world can be luckier than I am. I happen to be referring to my wife. It was shortly after 3:00AM, on January 30th, and she woke me up saying, “Al, why don’t you get up and go duck hunting? Listen to the wind blowing outside. Doesn’t it sound like a perfect day to go?” I gave her a big hug and got out of bed. Just a couple days earlier I had decided to end my season. Well, I was like a kid once again, all excited, and ready to go hunting!
Bev is the most understanding person I have ever met. She had the coffee made and poured into the thermos while I went out to get my best hunting buddy. Chili, my yellow lab, all but tore up the driveway getting to the truck, and it wasn’t long before we were heading for the Rio. Once we got to the area where I park the truck, it only took a couple of minutes for me to have everything ready to go. I had my four-wheeler loaded down with decoys, my folding chair, gun, and of course a large thermos of coffee. With Chili sitting behind me, we were off. Since I had almost five miles of cross country desert driving, I was sure glad that my wife had gotten me up as early as she did.
I finally arrived at the area along the Rio Grande that I wanted to set up in. Shouldering a bag of decoys, I took as much hunting gear as I could on the first trip in. Getting set up was easy and before I knew it that magic hour was fast approaching.
Sitting back in my old folding chair, sipping on a cup of coffee, and having Chili by my side just made me feel so darn good. It wasn’t long before I heard the whistle of wings and the loud quacks of hen mallards flying overhead. I double checked my watch and knew it was finally time that I could legally shoot.
The first ducks in that morning happened to be a pair of mallards. They made a wide circle around my decoys and then totally committed themselves to the spread. Just as I pulled the trigger of my Benelli Nova, the hen moved in closer to the drake and both of them fell dead into the Rio. This marked the ninth time this year that I have taken a Scotch double. Chili made quick work of retrieving the pair of mallards and once again, I attempted to take a sip of coffee only to hear the distinct call of a drake mallard in the distance. Quickly setting down my coffee cup, I softly called the “lonesome hen” call and did my best to get him to come have a closer look at the spread. This mallard made a quick turn in the sky and came straight in. He went down with the first shot and Chili dashed out to get him. As she came back to me, I then noticed that I had taken a Mexican drake. No sooner had Chili given me the bird when another single drake came by and this time it happened so fast that he had actually landed in my decoys. I stood up in the blind, the greenhead exploded upward, and I put him down with the first shot.
It was another one of those great mornings and I was feeling pretty smug about my shooting. I now had four ducks and had only taken three shots. I took a quick glance at my watch and noticed that only eight minutes had gone by since I started shooting.
In the early morning light on the horizon I could see a lone mallard coming closer to my spread so I got on the duck call to try and work some magic. Evidently I did because this beautiful drake mallard came straight into the blocks. I got all ready, stood up, and shot, fully expecting to see a greenhead fold up instantly, however, it was a clean miss as was my second shot. I still wonder about that one. Once in a while, I get to thinking that I can’t miss and when I do, I wonder if the manufacturer put shot in the shell. Oh, well, I am hoping that I created two beautiful holes in the sky with those 3", #3's. There is nothing like humility!
This was one of those fast and furious mornings because I didn’t have long to think about the greenhead that I cleanly missed with two shots. In came a pair of mallards or should I say, a drake Mexican and a hen. I knew it was a Mexican drake because I had heard him call. It was also much larger than the other, plus quite a bit darker in coloration, so I shot him. Chili was out after it in an instant. Just as I thought, this was a beautiful drake Mexican and that made duck number 5 for the morning. Since I hadn’t seen any other varieties of ducks besides mallards, I made a decision to pack up and go home.
The entire hunt had lasted a total of twenty minutes or so. I do know that the sun had not reached the horizon yet. Chili and I got on the four-wheeler and I slowly meandered south for two or three miles taking in all of the sights. I love this environment and I wanted to soak up as much of it as I could on this last day. I enjoyed looking at the mountain range to the southeast of me as the sun began to rise. The shadows were forever changing its shape. I love looking at the stately old cottonwood trees that dot the bosque landscape. Not to be out done, the sounds made by the ever changing Rio Grande added to the beauty of my surroundings. The season was over now and I know it will be a while before I can once again come back for another duck hunt.
Al
Only God knows how lucky I have been in my lifetime. Life is truly a miracle happening around us every second.
Al
