There are lots of days that I can get out and hunt waterfowl.
107 days in my neck of the woods.
I reckon that that leaves lots of headroom for gunning, and running lots of different dogs, spending time with friends (old ones and new ones) and exploring new places to throw the blocks.
I took my all time favorite hound dog out (Alex) and we made our way down a tributary of the Columbia River. No one else could make it, so it was just the two of us.
Driving through belts of fog, and feeling the sun on my left cheek (driving west) felt strange.
All of the Mexico City Am Radio Signals that we usually get were roasted off of the ionosphere by the sunlight, so all we could get were local concerns.
After so many 3:30 am drives along this route, I had forgotten how things looked in the daytime heading in this direction.
I dropped the boat in the stream and fired up the engine. She idled and Alex hopped aboard.
We made our slow run through the deadfalls and the deep timber along the Stream.
It felt good to get out on the water and make the run that years ago I made in a 14 foot boat in the dark, while the river was at full on flood stage.
Full force outgoing tide.
Alone but for Alex.
A fickle 40 hp motor and a home made 100 watt incandescent light in a coffee can with a plastic cover running off of the battery to guide me.
It is a wonder that I ever survived.
Even in the daylight, the 3 mile run downstream seems dangerous.
Derelict dock houses sag under years of weather and Cedars slowly give way to flooding and erosion and time. Some of them lean clear across the river and are just hanging on by a thread.
The Water widens and churns behind root wads and deep holes behind pilings and drift wood logs.
Alex and I set up as best we could. The area gets shallow where the stream meets the Columbia and the Duckbomber started to dig in and plow in the spot where I wanted to set up.
We had to settle for looking into the sun. The sun, compounded with the reflection of the sun off of the water "Doublesun".
Not the best deal for picking out drakes from hens.
We had a few groups of birds work our set,
Only 1 drake in the lot, dead center.
Really tough to pick out on the fly after your eyes get roasted by "doublesun".
Alex and I set up and listened to a Whistler (Goldeneye) fly by and splash down on mirror like waters. It seemed like it was right next to us.
The splash was as though there was a bird in the deeks, even theough it was across 150 yards of water that was flat enough to use as a mirror.
The punctuation of the "toot toot toot" of a logging rig off on the hillside. The sound of someone in a Diesel getting a load of logs.
The feel of the sun, compounded with the reflection of the sun off of the water started to make be feel a bit sleepy.
It seemed hard to believe that this quiet place of nearly narcotic tranquility can turn into such a dangerous place with just a change in the tide, and wind and a few hours.
We could see silhouettes approaching. Long necks and wings slung way back on their bodies (sawbills).
As they approached, two of them calved off to the south, but one swung into our set to do a flyover at about 3 feet above the deeks.
One shot and Alex was off after his bird.
He was fast on it, and made a nice retreive.
We watched A set of Swans far off on a distant cove. They called and called.
Alex watched them as they flew over and wondered what it would be like to get ahold of one.
I wondered too.
Soon the sun was leaving the stage.
I could hear the men on the hillside calling it quits, the Diesels going silent, the guys running the choke chains and the skidders shutting it all down.
I sat there for a while.
Listened to the gulls and the sound that the waterline makes as the tide rolls in. The tiny spaces filling with water and the whole estuary recharging and renewing.
I wrapped up the last of the decoys and cut the lights and killed the motor.
I just drifted for a few minutes out there and took it all in.
I looked at Alex on his wool blanket bed, sleeping, and we slid with the tide for a few minutes, and it felt good to be a part of it all.
Just drifting.
duckboy
Just Drifting
Linear Mode
