It was after 9:30 before I made it out of the motel. My first destination was the pond with the canvasbacks. When I arrived the birds were already on the water. Fewer canvasbacks this time but more redheads and scaups and ringnecks. Crawling on my belly, I made it to the edge and the birds flushed about 80 yards away. Too far for a shot. They fled north when I called with them then circled back. Overzealous, I skybusted them when they were overhead- a cardinal sin. Idiot. That's what happens when you get desperate. But that's a rookie mistake. I knew they wouldn't be back for hours and I was planning on hunting my way south on my way home so these birds will be safe from this idiot until I come back.
The plan now was to hit the stretch of river that I jumped 40 birds last outing. When I arrived a group of hunters were preparing to hunt it and after chatting abit I told them I'd go downstream a few miles. After a few miles I made it to my spot and started hunting. The hunting was not as hot as last week. I managed to flush a pair of mallards that flushed too far for a shot. Afterwards a mix bag of 15 ducks flushed wild all too far for a shot. One straggler, perhaps a bufflehead, goldeneye, or scaup, flew towards me and I fired when he was directly above the river. Again, though, bad luck happens to me on this stretch as the bird hit hard glided onto the other side of the river. As with last week, there was nowhere to cross safely.
After a quick chat, Dave reminded me of a lake I long forgotten. I decided to head out there even though the last time I looked at the lake a few years ago, it was dry. Dave hadn't hunted there in years and could not tell me if there was water or not so I decided to check it out. The lake is still dry. So I headed back to Dave's and chose to hunt the ditches near his office. When I parked, I was too close to the water and as I was preparing my gear two mallards, a drake and hen, flushed. I was pissed another rookie mistake. I should have known better. Earlier on my way to the dry lake, I crossed a bridge along this same ditch and flushed a hen teal and another hen big bird (not quite sure of the species) although it could have been a mallard.
Saint Hubertus, the patron saint of hunters to look after me.
|Memories from three years ago on Bad Luck Road.|
|That day was one of my costliest hunts ever, I hope it never happens again.|