Al Hansen
Well-known member
What a great headliner, Anthony. When I think about my career of hunting whether it be waterfowl, upland game birds and or big game those memories that are still firmly embedded are mostly of other things. On a Dall sheep hunt it was the porcupine that walked up the trail, then stepped on my hunting boot while licking the laces of my shoe. In the duck blind, during a teal season, it was a Cooper's hawk that hit my mojo dove which was no more than 8 feet from me. While on a pheasant hunt in Minnesota my buddy and I happened to see a cock bird on the road and since it was about 30 minutes before the opener, I picked up my binoculars and looked about. I caught a flash off of glass and saw the game warden looking at us with binocs. On a goose hunt for ,Emperor geese in the Cold Bay region of the Alaskan peninsula, it was watching a weasel allude the 3 ravens that were dive bombing it as it ran from a grassy patch to the next one. Little did I know that the weasel would sit on my ankle like it was log and look around for the birds. Seeing none, he dashed between my partner and me once again heading down the beach.
I still remember my first duck hunt in 1954 like it was yesterday. My wonderful neighbor, Marv, who was one of my mentors taught me so much. That bluewing drake was the start of a lifelong obsession with duck hunting. Little things like being able to hunt 89 days a few years after retiring, watching 10,000 mallards come into the area where the smart weed was so thick that all you had to do was plunk a few decoys down and wait. That reminded me of driving through the shallow waters and in my atv's headlights seeing hundreds upon hundreds of birds exploding out of the weeds. Whistling of wings, oh my Lord they were wonderful to hear especially with my ever present Chili at my side. She happened to be my personal radar screen. And to think, I was the only hunter in the area. I never heard any other shots at all. When people talk about not finding an area to hunt, I sometimes question that. Maybe I was just lucky to find BLM land teeming with waterfowl.
Now a days I don't hunt as much as I once did especially that year when I was just 67. Boy, a book could have been written about it. Today, I get more of a kick out of putting down a duck, so that I can grab my camera and take pictures of my dogs going on a retrieve. That is a challenge to say the least.
Al
PS
Bev and I were talking at breakfast time about our labs and if they needed rattlesnake vaccination.. Saying all of that did remind me of a duck hunt where the word "anxiety" could have been use more than one. It happened during the early teal season in New Mexico, where the temps in the morning might be 45F or so but then quickly escalates once the sun is up. On this hunt I found a nice patch of weeds so sit in and had Chili on my right hand side because that was the only place in this area that was suitable for her to sit in. Little did I know that I was sharing my spot with a female western diamondback who had curled up in this same spot. Same spot meaning she was 12 inches from my left leg down around the knee area. Thank goodness that it was cool that morning. When I finished off the morning with my limit of teal and Chili was back on my right side that is when she began warming up with a soft rattle. Tim and I often talk about it and he still wonders to this day why she didn't bite me. He was the one who took my PVC walking stick and gently lifted her out of that area and he let her go along a fence row next to a corn field. It was quite the hunt.
I still remember my first duck hunt in 1954 like it was yesterday. My wonderful neighbor, Marv, who was one of my mentors taught me so much. That bluewing drake was the start of a lifelong obsession with duck hunting. Little things like being able to hunt 89 days a few years after retiring, watching 10,000 mallards come into the area where the smart weed was so thick that all you had to do was plunk a few decoys down and wait. That reminded me of driving through the shallow waters and in my atv's headlights seeing hundreds upon hundreds of birds exploding out of the weeds. Whistling of wings, oh my Lord they were wonderful to hear especially with my ever present Chili at my side. She happened to be my personal radar screen. And to think, I was the only hunter in the area. I never heard any other shots at all. When people talk about not finding an area to hunt, I sometimes question that. Maybe I was just lucky to find BLM land teeming with waterfowl.
Now a days I don't hunt as much as I once did especially that year when I was just 67. Boy, a book could have been written about it. Today, I get more of a kick out of putting down a duck, so that I can grab my camera and take pictures of my dogs going on a retrieve. That is a challenge to say the least.
Al
PS
Bev and I were talking at breakfast time about our labs and if they needed rattlesnake vaccination.. Saying all of that did remind me of a duck hunt where the word "anxiety" could have been use more than one. It happened during the early teal season in New Mexico, where the temps in the morning might be 45F or so but then quickly escalates once the sun is up. On this hunt I found a nice patch of weeds so sit in and had Chili on my right hand side because that was the only place in this area that was suitable for her to sit in. Little did I know that I was sharing my spot with a female western diamondback who had curled up in this same spot. Same spot meaning she was 12 inches from my left leg down around the knee area. Thank goodness that it was cool that morning. When I finished off the morning with my limit of teal and Chili was back on my right side that is when she began warming up with a soft rattle. Tim and I often talk about it and he still wonders to this day why she didn't bite me. He was the one who took my PVC walking stick and gently lifted her out of that area and he let her go along a fence row next to a corn field. It was quite the hunt.
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