The Big Freeze

I arrived home from a recent duck hunt just in time to spend the following day snow blowing and shoveling for the better part of 7 hours. All things considered I was no better off staying in Klamath County hunting ducks. The freeze is upon us now and here for the duration I'm afraid. Morning temps well below zero and a high in the teens. I had only made two trips to hunt waterfowl and now all the flooded fields are solid ice and the Klamath river also now with dangerous shelf ice and the potential for a full freeze across it's width. It has been many years since I've seen that river froze up tight as a drum, but this may be the year of a repeat performance. When I awoke at 3 a.m. Monday morning due to high winds slamming the little cabin and it's creaking sounds, I was hoping to get back to sleep for a short while. I never did and finally got up at 5 a.m. to a chilly 41 degrees inside, brrr. I fired up the wood stove and said hello to Jet and stalled her from her breakfast for as long as possible. Her internal clock is far better than any watch I've ever owned when it comes to her meal times. I got my cereal and coffee going and snuggled up to the wood stove. I mentally went through the packing of gear and cabin shut down checklist. The previous night it had snowed 5 to 6 inches and the west winds whipped up the Klamath into a fine froth of whitecaps.

On Saturday afternoon when we arrived it was brisk and quite comfortable. We took a lap around to jump our favorite ditches. We did get a nice Mallard, 2 Ring Necked ducks and we flushed a few Snipe, of which Jet made nice retrieves. In hindsight I wish I'd spent more time focused on hunting Snipe, as this was one of their last nights spent here before continuing on their migration south. Some of the ditches had thin layers of ice forming as did the flooded fields. Very few ducks in either places with the exception being the Klamath River where there were quite a few divers.

On Sunday the weather was turning colder with snow flurries, strong winds and white caps on the river. Jet stayed in the cabin as it was to dangerous for her to go in the river and I didn't want to take any chances. With her hearing about gone she is on auto pilot when a bird goes down and I didn't want her to get into trouble, or myself for that matter in rescuing her. I had a few good shots on a drake Spoonie and 1 Pheasant. The Spoonie was close enough for me to wade to it. I had to work hard to find the Pheasant, as he piled into a wide swath of tule's next to the river. This particular patch is dangerous because it has hidden water holes that are quite deep and ones footing is somewhat challenging. Tough enough for hunters but even worse for our 4 legged partners. They get more tangled that one can imagine, plus if they go front feet first into a water hole it can be life threatening. I've had to pull Jet out a time or two before when she's gotten herself into a predicament. When she gets that Pheasant scent in her head she is like a dog on drugs, she will not stop until she flushes them or I physically pull her out of there and convince her to come with me. Pheasants truly are her drug of choice.

Back to my story of retrieving the Pheasant without Jet's assistance. I spent a good 1/2 hour looking and had no luck finding the bird. I decided to walk the dike towards the old boat dock and loop around the field side of the dike in hopes of flushing the other rooster that I missed. After the better part of 1 and 1/2 hours I never did flush the second Pheasant and was now back up river from where I had dropped the Pheasant. I looped back to the river side of the dike and proceeded to go look some more for the downed Pheasant. I again "marked" the point from where I shot and took a straight line and this time after about 15 minutes I had succeeded. I was out to far before and made my way back in just a little and there he was crumpled in a pile, still warm to the touch. I was ecstatic as I hate to lose any bird or animal that I shoot. I was laughing to myself that Jet typically goes to short and now I tend to the opposite. Somewhere in there is a happy medium I'm sure. I felt like I deserved a can of Alpo for my efforts.

Throughout the day the snow squalls came and went as did the gusty winds. I retired to the cabin before quitting time and was happy to get my birds field dressed before darkness set in. The temperatures plummeted that night and I wondered if the cabin pipes would freeze and if there would be any birds left come morning. I knew with the temps being in the single digits the only open water was going to be the river. While I love to hunt the river it's no place to be by yourself in a winter storm. Even in fair weather early season hunts, I won't use my boat unless I've got a friend hunting with me. So the stage was now set for the arctic blast and big freeze of 2010. Jet and I hit the pavement at 0630 after a windy night in the cabin. The roads were glazed ice and not more than 3 miles down the road did I see my first SUV in someones front yard with a sheriffs patrol vehicle next to it. Driving north along the Upper Klamath Lake is a dangerous and treacherous piece of real estate. We drove slow and steady reaching home in a little over 3 hours for 120 miles. Happy to be home and looking forward to a good nights rest before we had to start the chore of snow removal in the morning.

As I sit here and type this story I am thankful for many things, even the ability to do the not so fun ones like snow removal. Jet and I want to extend our very best to you and your family and friends for a wonderful Thanksgiving. Please take a moment and think of those who are serving this country in harms way and their loved ones. We are fortunate to live in a wonderful country and lets not forget that freedom is not free. Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Be safe out there.

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Cold Blast Freshens The Pot

I am of course referring to the fact that there were new birds in the Klamath Basin this past weekend. Finally got the big cold blast from the far north to push in some fresh waterfowl, as well as getting a lot of birds pushed off the Upper Klamath Lake.

Jet and I headed to Klamath early Friday morning ahead of the pending storm. We arrived in time to get settled in to the cabin and have a quick lunch. Then out to the field we went. We checked the back ditches just in case their might have been a fat mallard lazing about, but found nothing at all. So we headed to the Klamath River in search of divers and perhaps a pheasant if we were really lucky. The skies were overcast and the clouds were beginning to crowd the surrounding mountain tops. The wind was calm for the time being, yet forecast for 30 to 40 mph range come late afternoon. As we walked the river dike their were quite a few divers swimming in the river and even a few flying. This was a good sign. The weather was working its magic and getting things stirred up. Just be patient, only a matter of time before the show really starts.

So Jet was working a patch of Long Stem Bulrush and Tules next to the river. I was walking slowly keeping an eye on her, just as she was me too. I got to thinking after a few minutes that there must be a Pheasant in there. She is thoroughly dedicated to this pursuit. Bobbing and weaving and looking for an avenue when she runs into a wall of tules and continues her pursuit. I start to think that maybe that Pheasant got the better of us, and then suddenly out it jumps. Startling me and with fast wing beats and a flat body flying with a tail wind I raise my gun and swing on it squeezing off 2 shots and missing both times! Shot right over the top of it. Blankety Blankety Blankety Blank Uggh! I immediately watch with the keen vision of a hawks eye just where that fast elusive wing beater lands, and then get set for another go. I am on a mission now! It takes me about 5 minutes to finally call Jet out of the Tules so we can start after it again. I feel horrible not holding up my end of the deal after Jet works her little heart out. Anyway, I did mark it and we made a wide swing out in this field before cutting back in towards the dike. I kept Jet at heel til we both were in range and then I told her to "get'em up, find the birds" and she was off like a shot. We went into the taller cover then Jet double backed and I followed, just then the Pheasant flushed at the edge of the tall cover and this time I dropped it first shot! Finally I thought to myself and somewhat disgusted with my earlier attemps. It hit the ground running and so did Jet. I don't think I've ever seen her run so fast as she did after that bird. After about 25 yards it fell over stone dead and she brought it back and delivered to hand. I'll tell you all, I don't think I have ever seen Jet work so hard, be so focused and make such a beautiful retrieve as this one. I am so proud of her. Also relieved that I held up my end of the deal. I think this may well have been the same Pheasant that eluded me on my birthday weekend. I did the same thing, missed on both shots. So we'll call it a bit of redemption I suppose.

Anyhow, on we go after a big round of hugs and praise for a job well done to Jet. We walked the river dike and it wasn't more than 20 minutes later that the wind markedly picked up from the west.The shelf ice was beginning to stretch out from the river bank. I said to Jet that this is it, the storm has landed and is only going to get worse from here on out. We ended up jump shooting 3 Hen Buffs and a Drake Scaup from the river just as the first flakes of snow began falling. Time to head for the cabin and get the birds field dressed before dark. It wasn't much after I got those birds plucked that the wind was pushing 30 and let me tell ya' it was COLD! I gutted the birds and then rinsed them under the frost free hydrant and my hands were froze. It hurt like the dickens when they thawed. Oh boy, here we go, this is it. I asked for it and got it in spades. Hence the old saying goes; Careful what you wish for , cause you just might get it! Truer words were never spoken.




Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Unfair Advantage ?

On my recent waterfowl trip I learned I have some competition. The weather has been lousy for duck hunting. Temps in the mid 60's and barely freezing at night. No northern storms to push waterfowl south. So the resident population are taking it in the shorts.

The habitat that I hunt on is a mix of alfalfa fields that are flooded seasonally, as well areas that are not cultivated but have a mix of natural foods and give waterfowl a safe haven from predators. Some of the fields have a few high spots (mounds) that we sit on when we hunt over decoys. The field are flooded by a complex series of ditches and head gates. These are the dikes that I walk in search of jump shooting dabblers. There are not many ducks using the place right now, and it takes several groups of hunters set up through out the property to keep the birds stirred up and moving. Being one person is not conducive for decoy hunting at this stage of the season. I most likely would be more of a spectator instead of a participant. So that is why Jet and I walk and walk and walk in search of ducks.

This last trip was fairly successful considering the conditions. I didn't take any short sleeve shirts and paid the price. The lightest shirt I had was a long sleeve chamois and I still sweated buckets in it. None the less onward we trudged and on Saturday afternoon headed to the back ditch. Typically this is my honey hole and is usually worth a couple opportunities for Mallards.

As Jet and I got close, I peaked my head over the top of the dike to look for ripples on the water. I saw a whole lot more than just ripples. Looked liked a wake board tournament was going on. There weren't ripples but waves! I scratched my head and looked hard for the intruder. Surely there couldn't be a Muskrat putting out a wake like that? Nope, it was a large River Otter and Jet was ready to go after it. Whoa girl, this one will bite back. I was dumbfounded. Never in all my 30 years of walking these ditches have I ever seen an Otter in them. He was a good half mile from the Klamath River. This was starting to make sense now. That is, the fact that there weren't many ducks using that ditch. Also the remnants that I'd found the day before of a Red Shafted Flicker, several duck carcasses and a Skunk were littering the top of the dike. Mmmm, I can see that someone is eating well. Jet and I watched as he swam around and then realized he had an audience. He then swam through the culvert into the flooded field and began to make a hissing sound at us. Well let me tell you, I hissed right back at him. I was not impressed and if only I had a Fur Trappers License I'd, I'd, ahhh well maybe not. She -he- it! I have been out done by an Otter. I can just imagine him stealthing beneath the water in search of little orange feet. Then grabbing them and pulling them under. Can you imagine the look on the ducks face? Wow, and all without a duck stamp or license.

After taking a few pictures of my worthy opponent we continued our walk down the dike. Hoping that he hadn't been where we're heading and just maybe there was a duck within 40 yards of the ditch. As it turned out we jumped 2 drakes and 1 hen Mallard as we neared the end of our walk. I was feeling a bit smug, knowing I had beaten my nemesis to the quarry. Jet retrieved steady as a rock with hand signals for 1 of the drakes. The other 2 she marked visually and didn't need my help.

We began our walk back to the truck and thankful I had only 3 ducks in my game vest. It was about 3 p.m. and I was hot and beginning to drag a bit. We got back to the truck and never did see Mr. Otter on our return trip. I just hope he found his way back to the Klamath River. We got our birds field dressed and called it a day.

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Looks Can Be Deceiving

It seems that each year I get a few ducks that aren't quite what they appear to be once I have them in hand. This hen Mallard is just one of those.

From her initial jump when Jet and I crested the top of the dike she seemed a strong healthy bird. It was after we returned to the cabin and had brunch when I began processing (cleaning) my mornings harvest. I typically begin plucking the wings out to the first joint and then pluck the body. Well as you can see from the picture this duck had a golf ball size tumor on her upper left breast. It was very firm and not mobile at all. There were no signs of a previous wound, no gang green and from all appearances seemed to be an internal issue. I was reluctant to finish dressing her out and decided best to leave her in the field. I don't like not being able to eat what I kill, yet this time it seemed to be the prudent decision. I thought about taking her to Fish and Game on my way home, but I forgot to put her in the freezer and by the next day, it was to late. She was not an overly robust hen Mallard like some are with a nice fat layer under a corn colored skin. I suspect she was last years hatch since she is void of pin feathers(2007) and just didn't have the ability to bulk up like some Mallards can and do. So she went to the Magpies in the end and I was sorry to have seen her end up that way. It wasn't my first choice that's for sure. Not knowing what the tumor was, it was not worth the risk to my own health.

Over the years I have shot ducks and geese that had been previously shot and showed a greenish tint or color to their skin around the wound. Definitely gangrene and in most of those cases I have cut out the affected area and eaten the birds with no ill affects what so ever. This was just not one of those cases.

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Nervous In The Woods?

I thought I would take some time and tell you a little about last years Elk hunt. This was the same area as we hunted again this year.

My hunting partner John and I had spent a lot of time in the thickets and willow patches. We decided to return to an area we had hunted 2 days before to see if there was any fresh sign of elk in the area. As we crossed a small creek heading for another patch of timber, I noticed a "cantaloupe" rump. Unmistakably an elk, and it was on the ground in between a few small trees. At first I thought that it had been shot and the hunter was unable to recover it, due to the fact it was on private land. As John and I got closer we grew more suspicious of its demise. There were no bullet holes or arrow holes that we could see, nor any sign that the elk had been bleeding. Yet what we did see sent chills down to the tips of my toes. The young cow elks head and throat were covered with pine needles. In fact it was buried in such way that it looked as if the needles had fallen from the trees. There were no scratch or drag marks anywhere that John or I could find. We carefully removed the pine needles and saw the fatal injury to the throat of the elk. The blood was still red and no sign of decomposition (maggots) yet. The elks neck had not been broken, nor had rigor mortise fully set in . So this kill was pretty darn fresh! Well it didn't take much ciphering for us to know what kind of animal had done this. A cougar, (click on link for description) plain and simple.

We could kiss this area good bye as far as trying to find elk. Although, now I was feeling like I needed to grow eyes in the back of my head. Well we're not always the smartest when it comes to hunting, so we actually continued on with our game plan. We knew the elk had crossed the creek there and since the cougar already killed one, we figured that the pressure was off the elk herd. So on we go, this time even more aware of the fact that we were most likely being watched. I was nervous and whenever I heard a twig snap, I looked hard and long in that direction. The one thing about Cougars is that they are stealthy beyond belief. I have no doubt that cat was watching us. Perhaps we were the ones to push it off its kill? May well have been. We never did see the Cougar.

If one was interested in harvesting a Cougar that would have been an excellent place to sit, wait and watch. Waiting for his return to the kill. I was not of that mind, let me tell you. I was of the mind not to stray away from John to far and was looking forward to returning to our rig.

Fast forward to 2008 and my first waterfowl hunt with Jet along this same creek. All the while we had been hunting elk, John and I saw several small flocks of Specs (White Fronted Geese) in the area. So after elk season was over I had permission to spend a day waterfowl hunting. It was a nice day, very pleasant with mild temperatures. Jet and I walked N. along the creek through the willows looking for Specs. The willows had been thrashed and shredded by rutting elk. Eventually we flushed the Specs from a grassy patch and they flew and landed in the creek. I quickly glassed them with my bins (binoculars) to mark their location and Jet and I began our stalk. We used the willows to our advantage and got within about 20 yards and then I stood up. The Specs jumped out of the creek with a froth and we got a double. Jet made nice retrieves and we continued on our way again. As I was walking I noticed Jet had dropped back behind me. I looked back at her and she was sitting and wiggling her nose in the air. Uh Oh! I instantly recall last years elk hunt. I call to Jet to come and she is reluctant at best. Head hanging a bit low and ears down. I do all I can to use my happy voice to try and give her confidence(actually, for both of us). She does come and over the course of travelling another 200 yards repeats her protest to following me. By this time we have jumped the Specs again and had 1 more on my game strap. I looked at her and said, "alright lets go back" and she understood.

We cut through the willows moving away from the creek and headed to a road that is in the timber. Usually when a dog gets to a road they'll follow their nose in the direction your going. Well not this time. I check my GPS and tell her we're a 1/2 mile from the truck. All the while using my upbeat happy voice. For a split second she is comforted and then sits in protest again. Ahh s--t, come on girl lets keep going. We both had our tails tucked and kept our focus, all the while hyper aware that we may have company. I never smelled anything, at least not bear or elk. I am less worried about bears and the only issue with elk is that I don't want Jet chasing them. Don't know if Cougars have much scent that a human can pick up. Yet dogs can sure smell them.

We arrived at the truck in tact and I unloaded my game vest and walked over to the creek to begin plucking and field dressing my birds. I kept my loaded shotgun next to me and Jet was watching my back . . . literally. Jet was gaining her confidence back and an extra scooby (dog biscuit) didn't hurt either. We got our birds cleaned up and headed home, wondering just who else was on our hunt or keeping an eye on us?

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Sneakin' On Mallards

When it comes to dressing the part for social settings, I am less than inspired. That's like a duck out of water...ask my friends and they'll concur. I much prefer being in the marsh with face camo paint, wearing chest highs, 3 layers under them, slogging in semi frozen muck, mud and ice. All for a stealthy belly crawl in hopes of knocking down a pair of late season plump Mallards.

By the time I get to my destination I have sweat buckets and am now thoroughly soaked. Also known as a "science experiment" wearing chest high neoprene's. I pause for a few minutes to make sure I am where I need to be and also to catch my breath. My Lab is hyper alert and ready to crest the top of the dike.....and have a personal hunt of her own. It has taken us an hour and thirty five minutes in all to get here. We can hear the Mallards making their feeding sounds, moans, purrs and little grunts. It gets me deep down in my belly with excitement and anticipation. I am in awe when I get to be this close and they have no idea I'm there. I savour the moments a bit longer than when I was in my youth. Realizing just how special being right where I am, in this exact moment in time. Unless you've been there it is not easy to explain. It's the moments that feed your soul and tell you that this is where you're most at home...where you belong.

Guess I overdressed a bit, didn't need that fleece vest after all. The sky is a cold flat gray with intermittent snow showers. I have 2 ducks in my vest from an earlier sneak and I am starting to think about brunch and a hot cup of coffee. Not to mention getting out of these waders... a bit clammy, yes indeed! I peek over the top of the dike one last time to make sure we are in the right place and the ducks haven't moved to far in either direction. Yep, we're good. O.K. READY, my adrenaline begins to spurt and my pupils dilate as Jet leads us over the top of the dike. There is a split second when the ducks are motionless, realizing they've just been had and yes, I am a predator. All hell breaks loose as there are not just a few ducks, but about twenty or so. Screaming "quacks" and feathers flying and water frothing all give way to a double on Drake Mallards.The silence has been broken. Jet plunges in and retrieves both birds still wanting to retrieve more, looking at me for directions. The ducks circle and I reload. We hunker down in the tall grass on the side of the dike that isn't snow covered in hopes of getting a passing shot or two. Jets coat begins to freeze after swimming in the ditch. She is still twitching with adrenaline and fully charged up, her eyes focused on the small flock.

After a few minutes we see the last of those ducks leave our area, so we begin the long walk back to our rig. I give her another hug and tell her what a great dog she is and she starts her happy dog tail tuck and runs circles around me. She's happy too. I can feel the warmth of those drake Mallards against my back through my hunting vest and waders. I re-adjust my vest on my shoulders as the weight of it tugs backwards. Walking back to the rig I replay the sneak in my head and feel like "Charlie Brown" (female version) after pitchin' a no hitter! The fact that we got 2 ducks is wonderful, although what strikes me more is having gotten that close to listen to them without them knowing it. Very cool indeed. I forgot about how wet and clammy I was in these waders. Ah, its all coming back to me now...a little squish between the toes. The snow is starting to come down hard out of the north and my tracks out are almost covered completely. The wind begins to pick up and I lower & tilt my head leeward, so as to catch the snow on the brim of my hat and protect my eyes. The temp is dropping and our timing was good. Don't know just how big this storm is....could be a doozy! Be good to get my birds cleaned, have a bite to eat and hunker in for a while. Jet is ready for a hot meal too, and she'll be asleep before the water boils for my coffee. We'll dry out and see what tomorrow brings.....just hope things don't freeze up to much, need a little open water. What a fun women's hunt, all be it yours truly and her best friend Jet. I think women hunters can be just as stealthy as than their male counterparts, if not even more so.

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Two To Tango

Over the years I have spent plenty of time hunting solo with my dog. Those are special days afield. The pace is typically a notch slower and my focus is more on her and the present moment and taking it all in. There is really nothing quite like watching your children grow and learn, be it 2 legged or 4. This past waterfowl season Jet came into her own and I am so proud of her. She has taught me more than my other two Labs I've raised and hunted with. Perhaps a bit of maturation process on my part too. There are some benefits to A-G-E. She taught me to see things from her perspective, that is about 18" off the ground. Life does look different from down there. For the first 2 full seasons I was hunter and retriever. Boy I sweated buckets in those neoprene chest highs in October, crossing muddy ditches while she sat on the bank and cheered me on.....or so I thought. Then we continued our travels and every now and then I'd dump a duck out of my vest 'cause I knew we'd be coming back this way. So when we did return I'd get her excited and tell her to "find the bird" and gesture with my hand in the general direction. I was able to see the duck before I sent her so I knew it wasn't a "wild goose chase" yet. After much encouragement she'd find the duck and bring it to me. I would love her up and make a big deal out of it, just to build her confidence. She was pleased with herself as well, running in those puppy circles with such joy. Brought smiles to both our faces. This year was her 6th. in the field and it was special. Her favorite are Pheasants I think because they have so much scent. Anyhow when she is foot tracking them her tail goes left-right-left-right etc and when she is on the hot scent she starts helicoptering her tail. That's my cue to get ready 'cause all hell is gonna break loose any second and I best not let her down. You all know what that look is ...right?

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Hunting In Montana

During my training in woodworking in Missoula MT. my friend Jerry and I would take advantage of days out of school. We hunted the Bitterroot River in icey conditions floating it in his canoe and jumpshooting ducks and geese. Some folks looked at us as though we has a few extra holes in our head...and we just smiled back. Maybe we got some birds that day or not, it was more about just being out in those wild places and being a part of something bigger than us.



Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt