Al Hansen
Well-known member
It rained yesterday afternoon and a little bit last night. What a welcomed relief that was. Seems like one always says a short prayer for that moisture especially when you live in the desert. However, when I think of the thousands of family farms totally affected by the severe drought that we are now experiencing, I think I'll shift my prayers so that they will be directed for them.
I was thinking about that wonderful thread on our site all about "What do you miss in duck hunting"? I truly miss a lot but when I give it some thought, I find myself looking forward to tomorrow much more. Duck hunting memories are wonderful and for me it is more about people than ducks. Being a loner when it comes to hunting, I still remember those great men who helped me get started----my mentors. Had it not been for them I probably wouldn't have hunted since NO ONE in my family had ever hunted or owned a gun. My parents were afraid of guns but they did listen to my mentors and that was all that counted.
I looked at this picture of Habi and it made me think of how precious life is---how lucky I have been in my 71+ years of life. I'm so grateful that I got mad at myself while duck hunting back in 2002. In that particular year, I had quite a few cripples during the season and it was bothering me tremendously. There is nothing in this world that I dislike more than causing the demise of some animal because of my poor shooting and then not being able to retrieve it. I don't care if it is a Wisconsin whitetail or a greenwing teal. Made me think of a guy who I invited to hunt with me in my duck blind. I can still remember that gorgeous bull sprig as he came into the spread. As the shot rang out, you could see that it was hit but on it flew. Seems like it went about a 1/4 mile in that death glide that most of us have seen and then he dropped like a rock out of the sky. I never said a word but kept a careful watch for any reaction from the hunter. I followed his gaze and knew he had marked it. Shortly afterwards a small flock of mallards came in and we each picked out a drake and dropped them. Chili made quick work on those two retrieves. It was then that I offered Chili to this man so that he could go look for his duck. The expression in the eyes was all that I needed to know. There was no doubt that the duck was too far for him to go look for. Just scratch another duck, I guess.
I then called to Chili and the two of us headed northwest to the area in which the drake pintail went down. I knew right away that she caught a good scent and it wasn't too much longer that I could hear those nasal/gutteral sounds that my pup makes when carrying a duck in her mouth. My gosh that pintail was beautiful. I let Chili give the duck to the hunter. He never visited my blind again.
I'm glad that my father and mother instilled some simple guide lines about life for me. It was my dad who was the birder. He knew them all. I believe it was my mother who finally gave in to my constant begging for that pair of binoculars that we saw in a hardware store somewhere in Iowa. The price was $19.95 for the 8 power glasses. I still remember how long it took my folks to decide if they should or shouldn't. Dad was not making much as a music teacher in 1949. I guess it was the fact that mom had a few piano students that made the difference. Of course, dad, loved having the binocs as much as I did that spring. There were ducks all over the place as the snows began to melt and they were headed back north to their breeding grounds. It was around that time as an 8 year old that I first noticed ducks. My gosh, here it is 63 years later and I'm still looking for ducks.
My first duck that I shot was taken in Big Stone county, not too far from Ortonville which was my home town. This was in the year of 1954 and I'll never forget that October day. Little did I know back then what the impact would be like some years later.
Al
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