Al Hansen
Well-known member
Ever since I retired, I try not to hunt on weekends. The last time I recollect hunting on a Saturday morning, I do recall packing up and leaving when I heard shots fired. They were but a mere 1/2 mile away, as the crow flies, from me and I considered the two of them much too close to where I was.
So on Friday, the 8th of November, I headed for the Broken Pond. I know that name sounds weird but when the Rio Grande broke over its banks this past spring and early summer from the tremendous snow melt in the southern Rockies of Colorado and northern New Mexico. It ravaged my serene little spot not so far from the river. It is now just a much smaller area but big enough to entertain 11 decoys. I do like the current that is now there and it brings much life to my spread.
As the duck hunter's world began to awaken with the subtle grays showing up in the eastern horizon, my eyes were straining to catch maybe just a fleeting glimpse of that wood duck that broke the silence with its wing beats. As it got lighter I checked my phone one last time and found out that I could just count to 120 seconds before the season opened yet for another day of duck hunting for me. As I reached the magic number of 120 I don't think another handful of seconds ticked by when a very black duck arrived flying over my area and checking it out. He quickly disappeared but came back. I considered him too far away for a good shot and that was the last I saw of it. By then the light was getting stronger and I realized to my dismay that this duck was only 25 yards from me. Oh well, maybe it will come back I thought.
It was about 15 minutes into the season when I had a lone drake woody make what had to be what the Blue Angels call a close fly by. I was totally amazed that I hit him thinking there was no way I could react to his speed. Some how my shot found it and Chip then proceeded to do what he was born to do and made a nice retrieve. I left my camera hanging on the t-post in the blind because there just wasn't enough light for any pictures.
My but that sure felt good to hold this juvenile drake in my hands and give it a quick once over. I settled back in to doing what I do a lot when I sit in my blind. I watch my radar screen more than I do checking the surrounding sky. My buddy in the blind happened to be Chipotle aka Chip and he knows that most of the ducks come in from the south or southwest. It was because of him that I quickly found another loner coming our way. He passed within 50 yards but I care not to take that shot any more. I was able to turn him with some lonesome hen calls and when he came back it was with another pair of mallards. This time they were no more than 30 to 35 yards out and I put down the largest of the 3 of them. When Chip brought the duck to me I thought it was a hen mallard but after checking its beak, I knew I had a drake Mexican duck. For some of you who live mostly in the southeast I would assume that he would look much like one of your mottled drakes.
Every once in a while you will end up getting a duck that you just know had to be hanging around the pond the day before. In came this drake mallard without a moment's hesitation. Chip made a quick retrieve and as I gave him a once over in the blind, it was apparent he had more Mexican duck in him than mallard. During the course of a season I normally shoot some of these birds. I was glad to take it by the way.
It was her loud quack as she flew over the Broken Pond that woke me up I guess. There was no doubt that she was heading for the Rio Grande and I decided to make a come back call and it worked. She made a quick 180 and in she came. Chip was so focused on her that I even loudly whispered, Stay, for just in case he was thinking that he could catch her. My Nova woke up anything within my proximity and I watched her hit a sand dune off to the side of the water.
Hard to imagine that I was now sitting in the duck blind with 4 ducks in the blind. I didn't realize that it would be such a long wait but 90 minutes in any duck blind I have been in does not go to waste. I found myself taking pictures of various subject matter, which mostly was Chip and or decoys that had just that right amount of early morning sunlight hitting it. I had not heard any other shots other than what came from the west of me where the Gun Club members were letting loose with a few blasts of their own. Those were normally trying to count to 12 the number of shots they took at snow geese that would fly in to feed. It is amazing how fast 12 shots can be fired from automatics.
I called Bev and told her that since it was now 9:30 in the morning that I wanted to hang out for maybe just a little longer before I came home. My wonderful wife always seems to understand but there was one particular time when I was talking to her that I just said, "Incoming" and hung up! When I got home I showed her what Incoming looked like and then she understood that she was now in second place compared with the dead duck---somehow she has never forgotten that and still smiles when she talks about it.
The last bird to join my strap of 4 at the time was the mature drake wood duck. He swam out from the channel where he mostly was busily looking for those Russian olive nuts that the trees drop into the channel. I stood up and watched at he catapulted into the air and then watched as he folded and splashed down into Broken Pond. I grabbed my camera and was lucky enough to catch Chip in action.
It was a great hunt and like Bev has said before, "Shooting 5 ducks sure beats a kick in the pants!"
Al
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So on Friday, the 8th of November, I headed for the Broken Pond. I know that name sounds weird but when the Rio Grande broke over its banks this past spring and early summer from the tremendous snow melt in the southern Rockies of Colorado and northern New Mexico. It ravaged my serene little spot not so far from the river. It is now just a much smaller area but big enough to entertain 11 decoys. I do like the current that is now there and it brings much life to my spread.
As the duck hunter's world began to awaken with the subtle grays showing up in the eastern horizon, my eyes were straining to catch maybe just a fleeting glimpse of that wood duck that broke the silence with its wing beats. As it got lighter I checked my phone one last time and found out that I could just count to 120 seconds before the season opened yet for another day of duck hunting for me. As I reached the magic number of 120 I don't think another handful of seconds ticked by when a very black duck arrived flying over my area and checking it out. He quickly disappeared but came back. I considered him too far away for a good shot and that was the last I saw of it. By then the light was getting stronger and I realized to my dismay that this duck was only 25 yards from me. Oh well, maybe it will come back I thought.
It was about 15 minutes into the season when I had a lone drake woody make what had to be what the Blue Angels call a close fly by. I was totally amazed that I hit him thinking there was no way I could react to his speed. Some how my shot found it and Chip then proceeded to do what he was born to do and made a nice retrieve. I left my camera hanging on the t-post in the blind because there just wasn't enough light for any pictures.
My but that sure felt good to hold this juvenile drake in my hands and give it a quick once over. I settled back in to doing what I do a lot when I sit in my blind. I watch my radar screen more than I do checking the surrounding sky. My buddy in the blind happened to be Chipotle aka Chip and he knows that most of the ducks come in from the south or southwest. It was because of him that I quickly found another loner coming our way. He passed within 50 yards but I care not to take that shot any more. I was able to turn him with some lonesome hen calls and when he came back it was with another pair of mallards. This time they were no more than 30 to 35 yards out and I put down the largest of the 3 of them. When Chip brought the duck to me I thought it was a hen mallard but after checking its beak, I knew I had a drake Mexican duck. For some of you who live mostly in the southeast I would assume that he would look much like one of your mottled drakes.
Every once in a while you will end up getting a duck that you just know had to be hanging around the pond the day before. In came this drake mallard without a moment's hesitation. Chip made a quick retrieve and as I gave him a once over in the blind, it was apparent he had more Mexican duck in him than mallard. During the course of a season I normally shoot some of these birds. I was glad to take it by the way.
It was her loud quack as she flew over the Broken Pond that woke me up I guess. There was no doubt that she was heading for the Rio Grande and I decided to make a come back call and it worked. She made a quick 180 and in she came. Chip was so focused on her that I even loudly whispered, Stay, for just in case he was thinking that he could catch her. My Nova woke up anything within my proximity and I watched her hit a sand dune off to the side of the water.
Hard to imagine that I was now sitting in the duck blind with 4 ducks in the blind. I didn't realize that it would be such a long wait but 90 minutes in any duck blind I have been in does not go to waste. I found myself taking pictures of various subject matter, which mostly was Chip and or decoys that had just that right amount of early morning sunlight hitting it. I had not heard any other shots other than what came from the west of me where the Gun Club members were letting loose with a few blasts of their own. Those were normally trying to count to 12 the number of shots they took at snow geese that would fly in to feed. It is amazing how fast 12 shots can be fired from automatics.
I called Bev and told her that since it was now 9:30 in the morning that I wanted to hang out for maybe just a little longer before I came home. My wonderful wife always seems to understand but there was one particular time when I was talking to her that I just said, "Incoming" and hung up! When I got home I showed her what Incoming looked like and then she understood that she was now in second place compared with the dead duck---somehow she has never forgotten that and still smiles when she talks about it.
The last bird to join my strap of 4 at the time was the mature drake wood duck. He swam out from the channel where he mostly was busily looking for those Russian olive nuts that the trees drop into the channel. I stood up and watched at he catapulted into the air and then watched as he folded and splashed down into Broken Pond. I grabbed my camera and was lucky enough to catch Chip in action.
It was a great hunt and like Bev has said before, "Shooting 5 ducks sure beats a kick in the pants!"
Al
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[inline _MG_9111.JPG]
[inline _MG_9122.JPG]
[inline _MG_9138.JPG]
[inline _MG_9141.JPG]
[inline _MG_9143.JPG]
[inline _MG_9160.JPG]
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