Al Hansen
Well-known member
Bev had been home for two days and for some reason I thought I’d like to go sit on the Rio Grande to look for some ducks. With my trusty duo, Chili and Pepper, sitting on the west side bank, they watched as I put out 2 decoys that morning. They weren’t in much more than 8 inches of water and I smiled at my good fortune. One thing that I did take notice of was the icy cold water. There still were a few small hunks floating down the river from the terrible cold spell a couple of days ago. Back on shore I then walked downstream about 12 to 15 feet to an area that had some nice thick salt cedars to hide my 6'6" frame.
My purpose here had two reasons; #1 I could see any ducks leaving the refuge and heading north if they used the Rio Grande corridor. #2 If ducks were in the immediate area I could also see if they flew in behind me towards the low flow ditch that was there, or if they headed east towards the ranch that I hunt where the channel is.
As the morning opened I just remember how cold I was and that is when I began to think of other important things, like the coffee thermos that was in my truck some 3 blocks away and the thought even passed through about picking up my two decoys and heading for Acosta’s to have a breakfast burrito. Well, hell, I wasn’t much of a duck hunter if that happened so I decided to tough it out.
Not much was happening when I spotted a lone greenhead flying right on the deck like it was some sort of sea duck out on the Atlantic. I raised my Nova and put him down in an instant. Both my girls went out and with Pepper definitely the more aggressive of the two, she got there first and headed for shore some where down stream. I had lost sight of both of them by that time, but I could hear them as they battled their way through the thickets. Pepper broke through in an opening and brought the drake to me. That was a proud moment and I looked it over carefully. I then put in on the ground in front of me and continued to look for more ducks. It was right about then that I saw that one of my two decoys had broken its line and was now floating downstream. As it approached right in front of me, I reached out with my shotgun trying to corral it towards me but to no avail. I then saw a lone 3/4 inch salt cedar sapling right on the shore line and thought I’d just hold on to it and take one step out there to try and get it. That I did but that is when things got nasty. Just some 15 feet to the north of me the decoys were in 8 inches of water. When I took this one step off the shore I dropped down into a hole that had the icy waters of the Rio Grande at the middle of my neck. I quickly laid my shotgun on the ground and kept hold of my sapling. Little did I know at the time that it was to be my saving grace in life.
With the icy water of the river now almost totally engulfing me, I slowly turned somewhat to try and get my bearings. For the life of me I was having a dickens of a time trying to get my left foot to move. I had no idea what was going on. So I repositioned myself and was able to get my right leg up a little on the bank so that I could possibly pull my left leg out of whatever it was stuck in. What an instantly relief that seemed to be as I now had both hands on the shore line and began to lift up and could slowly feel my left leg coming up. It did feel like it was chained to the Titanic’s anchor, however.
It was just about then that in a flash, I knew what my predicament was. I could now feel the strong current of the Rio Grande lift the dead fall that my foot was stuck in. My foot had become lodged in a fork of a sunken tree and when I tried to lift it up and out, I could feel the tree now beginning to slowly rotate counter clockwise. Before I knew it, as I faced the shore looking at my two pups right in front of me and hanging on for dear life to that small salt cedar sapling, my body was now almost floating when the current took the tree back down and around still moving in the counterclockwise motion. No matter how much you can hyper extend a body’s joint, something has to give.
That something was my left leg and then I could hear it. It was the sounds of bones breaking. I can recall screaming and then realizing at that very moment that the only ones hearing that were Chili and Pepper who now had their heads cocked to the side and were looking at me quizzically. By the grace of God my foot had popped out of that old fork in the tree and now I found myself kind of dangling/floating in the water, still hanging on for dear life to that salt cedar sapling. I knew right away how lucky I had been because the only other place I could have been was 6 feet under the water below that dead fall that almost took my life. I quickly dragged myself out of the river’s edge and somehow got to my feet. Oh, I could tell that my leg was broken but maybe because I was so cold, it didn’t feel all that bad. As I stood there surveying all my options, I knew only too well about hypothermia and opted to get my butt in gear. I had Pepper pick up the drake mallard and carry it while I somehow reached down to grab my Nova. Little did I know back in 2003 that Charlie's Sporting Goods in Albuquerque, would be selling me a shotgun that also was easily converted into a crutch. I shucked the shells out and saw them hit the ground. My hands were way too cold to even give it a thought of grabbing them and putting them away in my pockets. I couldn’t feel anything.
Our bodies are remarkable. Here I was walking on a broken left leg, (later after the x-rays were taken I had broken the tibial plateau clean off with another break within the plateau) numb as all could be from the freezing water and not feeling all that bad. I’m sure shock was beginning to set in and I knew I had to get back to the truck in post haste. As I walked, all bent over from leaning heavily on my shotgun, I found out that I could shuffle along by dragging my left foot just ever so slightly. There was no searing pain at all yet when I did this. I do remember the steep embankment that I had to climb up so that I could reach the road where my truck was. How is it humanly possible for a body to be so numb from cold but yet do what your mind is commanding it to do? For some reason mine was and I kept on with that goal of a heater in the truck firmly embedded with in the confines of my brain. That one thing was foremost in my thinking.
When I finally got to the truck, I reached into my pocket of my jeans and found out that my hands were so numb that I knew my keys were there because I could see them but yet couldn’t feel them. Some how like a magician pulling a good one on a crowd, I was able to get the truck key into the doorlock and turn it enough to see and hear the lock open. I then tossed my Nova into the back, took off my waders and watched as gallons of water cascaded onto the ground. I flung them into the bed in back. Being so numb has some distinct advantages and the foremost in my mind was my broken leg that did not hurt—yet! I remember how wonderful the sounds of the engine coming to life seemed to be. Now all I had to do was wait for the heater to work its magic. As I drove along the ditch bank thinking about what just happened to me, I knew how lucky I was to be alive. I also knew that I was only 10 miles from home.
There have been times when Bev and I have spoken of this particular day, December 30th of 2008. She will give me that look especially if we are with others and say, “You can’t tell me he was hurting. Do you know what he did on his way home?” Then it did come back to me and I had to agree with her. Yes, on my way home I counted 86 ducks that flew out of the low flow ditch as I headed for the house. About a mile from home, I actually stopped, grabbed my binoculars and looked at a flock of at least 300 widgeons that were feasting in an alfalfa field. I was then cussing my luck but it wasn’t too much later that I ended up being very thankful.
The grandfather clock just struck 7. It was about that same time five years ago that I got myself into quite a pickle. I knew there was a reason why I didn’t want to go duck hunting today!
Al
