Sorry to be away so long, but as some of you might know, I’ve been looking for new employment, and working at a temporary job for a couple of weeks now.

The really great news is that this has been a great duck season, so far. After getting the blind re-positioned and anchored back down, we have had good success in harvesting ducks. No geese to date, but that may change.

We are currently in between splits, and the second split season opens Saturday morning. Arctic front is freezing up the country to the north of us, and while checking our blind out yesterday morning, I had the opportunity to sit in the blind and watch as wave after wave of ducks spilled in in front of the blind and rafted up. Gadwalls, mallards, pintails, a few straggling teal, some golden eyes, buffle heads, and shovelers were all present. Was too late getting to the blind to catch the morning flight of the wood ducks, but they are around.

Most of our bag has been gadwalls, widgeon, and pintails. Downed a couple of green wing teal, and one cinammon drake, which was only the third one of those I have ever taken. A few mallards also, but not as many as I would have expected to see. So far, no redheads or canvas back ducks have been seen, but word is that there are some around.

If the season had been open yesterday morning, I could have taken a full limit in less than ten minutes. Glad to see all the ducks, since we have already harvested more in the first split than we have taken in the last three years combined.

Hopefully the weather will cooperate and bring us even more ducks. Arctic front is pushing south and east, and although the daytime temperatures have been in the high 60’s to middle 70’s for the last week or so, those days are changing starting today. Forecast is for lows in the middle 20’s with highs in the low 50’s for the next week or so.

I’ll try to keep this blog coming on a more frequent basis, and hopefully get some pictures up.

Today reminds of days past, spent at the duck camp outside of Grand Cheniere, Louisiana. Overcast with a hint of rain, a light breeze, with decoys sitting in a double J hook spread in front of a cane blind. Gun loaded and resting against the frame of the blind, a piece of burlap draped over the muzzle, a thermos of coffee, a sack of sandwiches next to me, and my Lab, Candy, sitting patiently on the jump board.

The dark gray of the morning giving a promise of a good day of hunting, and every now and then I could see Candy stiffen, her head raised as she heard the soft whistle of wind over feathers as a small bunch of ducks flew swiftly within range of her hearing.

It was one such morning that the true worth of having an experienced dog with you as you waited, somewhat impatiently, for ducks to work their way around and over the blind and decoys. Finally, after about 45 minutes of waiting, six ducks appeared, way out over the marsh grass, and after ‘hailing’ them for a few seconds, four of them broke off and came streaking straight in towards the spread. A couple of softer ‘quacks’ from one call, then a feed chuckle from the other call, and they wheeled out and turned into what wind was blowing. Three mallard drakes and one hen.

Candy was already shaking in anticipation, but holding her position as I slid the burlap off the muzzle and readied my 870. As they cupped their wings, losing altitude in a very controlled manner, I raised up, shouldered the gun and fired. Once, twice, three times. All three drakes fell, the first two dead, the third fluttered down, wing broken, and immediately headed for the far side of the ‘pond.’

Candy had marked all three, two lying dead in the water about 20 yards in front of us, and after lining her up on the escaping cripple, sent her to get that one first. She catapulted off the board, swimming strongly across the open water. The cripple had reached the marsh grass on the far side of the pond, about 45 yards away, and was no longer in view. While I watched, I was reloading, and then my attention went back to the dog. She was up on the marsh grass, bouncing around, and about 20 yards from where the duck entered the grass. I whistled her to a stop, sent her back to where the duck was last seen, and let her do her thing. Within 30 seconds she was back down where I had stopped her before. I stopped her again, moved her back, again, and turned her loose. As before, she worked her way back to the right, swimming and bouncing on the tall, stiff grass. I was just about to halt her again, when she bounced up on the grass, did a U-turn in mid air then dived into the grass head first. A few seconds later she reappeard with a mallard drake, and quickly worked her way back to the open water of the pond. While she swam back, I saw she was holding the duck by it’s rear end, the drake turning it’s head to look back at her. She made it back to the blind, came up the ramp and handed me the cripple. I sent her to pick up the other two, and after shaking herself off, looked at me as if to say, “why the hell did you stop me the first two times?”

Of course, I praised her, and busted open the sack of sandwiches and fed her 1/2 of one, which she devoured in less time than it takes to say ‘mallard.’ We picked off two fast moving blue wing teal ten minutes later, then the wind started to pick up and I could see a wall of water a couple of miles away as it worked it’s way inland from the Gulf of Mexico. After packing everything up, we waded back to the trapper’s ditch where my pirogue was stashed and headed back to the camp, arriving there almost as the heavy rain started to fall.

The others in the lease started straggling in, most everyone with ducks, and after eating a late breakfast, we set to cleaning ducks and recounting the morning’s activities. I told them the story of Candy going after the duck while I was stopping her from getting it. Everyone laughed, telling me to let the dog do it’s thing ’cause their nose was better than my eyesight!

Those were good times. Sadly, I had to put Candy down when she was 13 years old. Arthritis had almost crippled her, her muzzle was almost totally gray, and there was nothing I could that would make her better. But she was my friend, never complained except for the look when we had been working ducks and I missed a shot or three and got ‘that’ look that good retrievers have when you don’t do your thing and deny them the pleasure of doing theirs.

I have another Lab, 18 months old, and she shows promise. Only time will tell if she’ll measure up to Candy.

Saturday morning was the opening day of duck season in the western zone, which is where I live and hunt, for the most part. Blind has been built and floated for two weeks, brushed and touched up three or four times, and all was ready for Saturday morning.

Thursday and Friday it was warm…temperature in the low 80’s, no clouds, light breezes, and things were not looking good in spite of the fact that we have seen ducks in the area of our blind.

Friday evening we get a front moving through…cooler temperatures, rain, and lots of wind. I repeat, LOTS of WIND!!!! Daytime temp is going to be about 20-25 degrees cooler on Saturday. I’m thinking great, my partner, Cody, is thinking great. We meet at 4:30 on Saturday morning, eat some breakfast, then drive the three miles south to where we put the boat in. Get the boat in the water, pirogue tied off behind and head out.

Found the entrance into the slough easily enough, but when we got in, our blind was not where we had left it!!! Finally found it about 60 yards back up in a stand of bald cypress, one floatation drum missing, and two anchoring blocks had broken off their ropes. Things were definitely going our way. Decided to try to hunt anyway, and after hiding the aluminum skiff back by the blind, we loaded into my pirogue and settled back in between a couple of cypress trees after spreading 3 dozen decoys in front of us.

We finally get first light, and make everything ready, guns uncased, shells at the ready, duck calls on lanyards pulled ouside the jacket, camo hats pulled low to hide the shine on our faces. Two woodies came screaming down the slough, but were way out of range. They had a heckuva tail wind too, about 20 mph and it would have taken an anti-aircraft shells with proximity fuses and radar to get close to them.

Two hours later, we haven’t seen a thing except for 15 or 20 coots that came swimming in, then moved on. No sounds from the two nearest blinds to us…one about 400 yds north, the other about the same distance south. Oh well, other than the blind being moved, it has been a typical, for the last five years anyway, opening day.

We case the guns, paddle back to the boat, and leave. Came back to town to get another drum for floatation, and some more rope and weights for anchors. Then it’s back down to the blind. On our return trip we ran across the guys that hunt the blind north of us. They looked at us like we were crazy, thinking we were just getting there. Told them what happened to the blind, and that we’d been on the water a good hour and 45 minutes ahead of shooting time.

They saw some woodies also, headed down the river, and said that they heard some big flights of geese, but that they were way up high and never really were able to put an eye on them. They said that they had heard two shots fired that morning, and thought they were fired by us, but we guessed that they were popped off by the guys south of us.

Finally got the blind ‘rebuilt’ and towed back to where it needed to be…as in the original place….and got it anchored down. Would have hunted Saturday evening, but had some other stuff to do (we all know how wives are) and couldn’t make it. Sunday morning found us in the blind, a lot more comfortable that two of us in the pirogue, and saw a small group of gadwalls. That’s all we saw, and even with a bit of calling, decoys rocking on the water, they just kept on heading south east, across the river and away from us.

Even with all the bad stuff happening to the blind, the weather, and the lack of ducks, it was great to be out in the cool morning air enjoying nature.

Hope everyone elses opening day was more ‘fun’ than ours.

I have to say that I am getting sick and tired of the ignorance expressed by folks who run off at the mouth like they are an expert on guns and hunting. No, not just irritated, but really fed up with those pseudo intellectual types who have never taken to a field, a deer stand, a duck blind, or even fished from the bank of a small creek or stream. You know the type….”ooooh, that is such a barbaric act”….or….”you OWN a gun”….or….”what would ever stir you to go kill one of God’s own creatures?” Know the type I’m talking about now?

They don’t really know anything, but rather they “feel” that there is something wrong with you if you hunt, fish, or own guns, and if you do all three, well, you’re simply going to be condemned to hell for eternity for engaging in all three. They “feel” that their position is the moral high ground, and will go to the ends of the earth to demean anyone and everyone who does. They “feel” that their position is the one that the world should operate by. They “feel” morally superior, and worse, they “feel” they are intellectually superior.

We’ve all met them, some of you have met less than others, but still, you have encountered them somewhere, sometime. I used to try to debate them, using facts as I know them to counter their “feelings” about the subject. I had to quit doing that, because I finally figured out that these people, these types of people, have their minds made up and you can’t confuse them with facts.

These are the ones who join groups like PETA, you know, animals have rights, eat vegetables, not meat, leave God’s critters alone. Yeah, that incessantly moaning bunch of morons that have way too much time and money on their hands, so they came up with that cockamamie group. Now, personally, I am also a PETA member…but not the kookie left wing fringe lunatic one…but rather the newer one, made up of most, if not all, of the hunters and fisherman in this world…my PETA is “People Eating Tasty Animals.” And yes, we have room for all of God’s creatures….right next to the potatoes and gravy.

Unfortunately, the first PETA group, along with other left wing, fringe lunatic groups somehow have managed to garner a certain ear with our politicians, giving them a semblance of respectability, and a certain amount of clout in our elected bodies, be it local, state, or federal. On the other hand, members of the NRA, GOA, and other like minded groups have a lobby in Congress, and various state houses, but we do not get the positive press that the liberal groups get, we are, in a word, pariahs, the outcasts of society because our common hobby, or sport, is hunting and fishing and shooting.

So, what can we do about it? First, we need to conduct ourselves with propriety while afield, in the woods, or on the water. We need to try and take a news reporter to the range with us when we shoot, or invite them to participate in a hunting trip, or a fishing trip. We can write letters to the editor. We can support local youth shooting camps, with our time and our money. But the single most important thing we can do is elect those people who share our sport to elected office. After we get them elected, we have to keep a watchful eye on them, holding their feet to the fire when they stray from their professed sport by voting on legislation that hinders, restricts, or outlaws our ability to enjoy our sport.

Unfortunately, the people who would take our rights and privelages away from us are lumped in with the Democrats. And we all know what their animal mascot is. Enough of that, since I have a good picture in my mind. I know lots and lots of Democrats who hunt and fish, so much so, that it is almost a religion to them. I also know a few Republicans and Independents who feel the same way as the liberals do, but they are few, and far between.

So, if you haven’t voted yet today, consider those candidates on the ballot based on their “professed” positions on guns, hunting, and fishing. The best we can do right now, today, is to elect the ones that feel as we do, re-elect those who feel as we do, and vote out of office those who would do our sport harm, or restrict it.

First, want to apologize for the lack of new articles here, but we’ve been experiencing severe problems with our server. Looks like that has been corrected, at least temporarily.

Now for the good news. Louisiana Dept. of Wildlife and Fisheries are predicting a better than originally thought duck season. This is good news to those of us who hunt in the western region of the state. We are located on the eastern edge of the Central Flyway, and already numbers of ducks and geese have already made their way south and are flocking into areas along the Red River, Toledo Bend, and Lake Bistineau.

Predictions are also improved in theSouth Louisiana marsh areas which were heavily damaged by both hurricanes, Katrina and Rita. This is due to the level of salt water pushed ashore and inland from the storm surge of each of them, which has killed a lot of unwanted vegetation in the marsh areas south of New Orleans and south of Lake Charles.

Cold weather, read that as sub freezing, in the northern climes already has helped move the ducks and geese further south earlier than normal. That, coupled with good breeding numbers out of Saskatchewan in Canada gives us hope for something better than we have experienced in the last several years. Another point to think about with the brood levels in Canada is that there will be more ‘younger’ ducks headed down this way, and they haven’t gained the wile and knowledge of the older ducks who have already experienced being called and shot at.

For the past four years, we have barely experienced winter. With only five to eight days of below freezing temperatures, each winter, the ducks have not had to leave the feeding grounds they like so much in Missouri and Arkansas.

Our duck season this year is 60 days long, and the powers that be have added, for the first time in years, a canvas back can be taken. One a day. This is good news, for where I hunt, I spent three days last year looking at nothing but canvasbacks, and didn’t fire a shot. Talk about a frustrating experience, seeing ducks, calling them in, then identifying them as a specie that you can’t take. Oh well, I guess that’s why it is called hunting.

Did the last check on the new blind over the weekend, did some touch up brushing on it, then eased out of the area. We did get some gadwalls up as we went in, but as soon as we slid the boat under the blind, they circled back and sat down in front of us, and there were no decoys in the water. A very good sign.

Gear is already packed, shotgun cleaned, oiled, and ready to go, a fresh box of 3″ 12 gauge bismuth shot shells tucked in the gear bag. Been practicing on the calls in the back yard, which makes both my Lab and my neighbors a bit crazy, but hey, you gotta do what you gotta do. After all, my wife won’t let me practice in the house! And she’s in charge!!!!

I sincerely hope that everyones hunting season is going good, and I am looking forward to the opening day of duck season.