Memorable Season

Eric Patterson

Eric Patterson

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Staff member
Reading this forum it seems as though the season is going exceptionally well for quite a few. You don't have to hunt long to realize the very nature of duck hunting is inconsistency from season to season. One year may be light on birds while the next season they may be plentiful. At least that's the way it is in my area.

Well this year is proving to be one for the ages. The bitter cold, in spite of being very dry, has pushed ducks into our area. Combine that with the refuges locking up due them being largely shallow and you get some great gunning opportunities. Another incredible thing we are getting is the diversity. From the same blind location we've taken gadwall, mallards, pintail, wigeon, canvasback, ringneck, redhead, gw teal, and shoveler.

So Tuesday work and schools are closed due to the weather. Thomas and neighbor friend Tom Ryan, who is home on leave, hunt the bitter cold morning (temp and wind in the teens). Midmorning Thomas calls me and says “Dad, me and Tommy got our limits, hurry up and get here.” I met another hunting partner, Zac Anderton, at the boat ramp and was taken to the “X” where Zac and I proceeded to add two more limits to the day's tally. This was basically a “guided” hunt for me since they did all the work. I must say it was a genuine treat and I'm still happy as can be with Thomas, Tom's, and Zac's generosity. It was one of the best hunts in years and part of what made it so was the enthusiasm these boys showed and their desire to see that I got to be a part. Think about that, how often does a son call their dad and say, "Dad, you've got to be a part of this."? These young men showed me a great time and I truly appreciate the skills they’ve developed through dedication and hard work. But more importantly they are ethical hunters who respect the sport. Great job men and thanks for making me feel special.


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Thats one for the memory book for sure!

You've definitely raised a good kid, you should be proud.
 
Gets me excited for when my son gets old enough to be apart of the hunt. He was so excited to see my speckled belly when I got home today and he was excited when I took him dove hunting with me in September.
Congrats on the limits and memories.
 
Ben

All my kids (3) are completely different. My oldest has no interest at all in hunting and my daughter likes dance and the arts. Thomas lives to hunt. Sounds like your son may be similar to Thomas who at a very young age, 4 or 5, started showing a desire to go.

Eric
 
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Eric,
My son is 4 right now, 5 in may and he loves it.
I have another one due in August. Not sure if it’s a boy or girl yet but guy says girl.
 
That's what it is all about. I have very fond memories hunting with my father. I have two boys that are all grown up now,but niether took a interest in waterfowling and that's ok. In regards to being a good year I would have to agree.
 
Thomas is a good kid/young man (whichever way you want to look at it). It has definitely been a good year around North AL, which you can't say that often. If you have the time to put in the homework around here with the weather we've had this year, you can kill birds! Hopefully he can finish out the year with one of those birds he is wanting......[;)]
 
Yup. That's a season for the book right there. Hope you have it all down in your journal. Will make great reading many years from now, and bring back a flood of memories. The fat times get us through the lean times, and keep us going.
 
Eric Patterson said:
. You don't have to hunt long to realize the very nature of duck hunting is inconsistency from season to season. One year may be light on birds while the next season they may be plentiful.
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[size 5]Truer words were never spoken [smile]
Water, weather, and what I'm willing (and able [w00t] ) to suffer at 68 have kept days on the water or in the stubble to a bare minimum this season. A year ago, it was a banner year. Doesn't stop me from checking all the forecasts and river gauges each day in the hopes that conditions for a few weeks during the late season could provide the right opportunities. "Hunting right" is still a great kick, and it does a body good to see Thomas and his buddies carry on.

Spoke with my hunting partner just this morning, and we both agreed we are probably done with this stage of life:


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Eric,

I have 3 too, and my oldest boy (13) likes to hunt more than anything. He really seems to be settling into the sport and I often think to myself during hunts about how awesome it is to see his progress -- and how excited I am to see continued progress. Certainly sounds like you're enjoying the same experience with Thomas.

You are right to be full of pride, as you're seeing to the future of the sport!
 
Eric,

Thanks for sharing. It has been fun to 'watch' Thomas grow up from afar. We love all our kids. It seems like memories spent afield come to mind quicker than others.

Congratulations,

Tom
 
Makes you yearn for a move to more northern latitudes!!! Right?

Seriously, the good years and hunts that you experience are what keeps you scouting and setting...and scouting and setting in the "thin" years. We had a week long hunt on big water this fall where the weather did everything from blowing a gale to heavy snow-bands rolling across the open waters of the marsh interspersed with pockets of full sunshine. Large groups of birds often got up and moving on the wind shifts and snow squalls. Steve had arrived earlier and hunted through two days of brutal weather that caused some gear casualties when I arrived. Our first day out resulted in multiple sets that got us close to the X, but not on it. We shot a few birds, but we were worked by multiple large flocks of redheads and scaup,with a scattering of puddle ducks that would work our set via multiple passes, but not commit inside 45-50 yards, so we shot very little. It was still a memorable day on the water simply seeing that many birds up close. Waterfowling is for optimists.. who also have a strain of masochism or masochistic tendencies, at minimum. There are few sport that require the time and effort to succeed with consistency in the broad variety of terrains and conditions that waterfowlers face.

One morning I had Steve drop me off on a woods road that would enable me to eventually bushwhack in to a section of marsh shore that I could jumpshoot down to the point we had pre-agreed as the pick-up spot he would run down river at a pre-specified time and wait. I jumped a couple of black ducks on the edge of what I wanted to shoot and let them go. I then jumped a drake and hen wood duck pair in sequence. I missed the hen and then switched to the closer drake, knocking it down into the edge of a stand of cattails. I picked up my pace trying to close the distance while not taking my eyes of the bird, hoping to get a clearer shot and anchor it. I stepped into an old beaver run and fell face first in the water, dropping my gun. I panicked and tried to get back up but the water was shallow on the far side of the run and I could not get my fake right knee to bend far enough to get good leverage and get my feet under me to stand, falling again fully face-first in the water. The second dunking brought my brain back around to functioning; I told myself if I did not get my emotions under control I was going to die. I opened my eyes and started pawing the bottom until I found my shotgun and got it vertical and next to my head. I checked the safety quickly and then grabbed the upright barrel and hand-walked up it until I was standing filling my waders pretty completely. I looked south the 3/4s of a mile to see no boat and no Steve; quickly realizing I would likely hit hypothermic limit well prior him being able to locate me and get shallow enough to pick me up, so I turned back. I had to put my gun down and use it as a walking staff for the last seventy yards or so to navigate up on a rocky section of shore where I had entered the bay. I found a mound of rocks and propped my feet up and got the vast majority of the water out of my waders after loosening my wading belt. I got back to my feet and started to pick my way back through the woods to the road, stopping to search for my soaked cellphone (worthless); then for whatever I had for food in a variety of pockets. I made it out to the road before I finally started to get full function, eventually working my way back to the cabin we were renting. No Steve and No boat. I stripped off my coat and waders, wet clothes, and jumped in the shower to raise my body temperature. I got dressed in forty-two layers and then went over to the cabin owner's home to have her call Steve and notify him I was back at the cabin. After some warm food and a lengthy discussion of what I did wrong with Mr. Lewis, I switched over to my back-up gear and waders; transferred shells and calls and grabbed my fully drained SBE. We sat the remainder of the day over decoys and did well. I regret that I never did get that wood duck, which would have been more good eats!

As time drains my stamina I stop more frequently now to remind myself of one salient truth: we are all going to walk-on as the Ojibwe say. I would prefer to experience that end doing something I love in environs I cherish, alone, or with friends, than sitting in an ICU counting the hours as my dad did. I often recall his words when we had all arrived: 'So, the Tribe is all here, this must be IT?' I still remember the first goose I shot while hunting with him at the Todd Farm.

Enjoy this Fall and make irreplaceable memories with your son!
 
sounds like you have done a great job as a parent theirs much to be proud of and hope my boys will do the same when they are old enough . good looking limit as well.
 
Eric

Nice hunt & great memory. Fewer things are better than that call from a hunting partner of "you need to get over here".
 
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