An Unknown Cove round the next bend in the river.

[duckboy]

The coffee maker beeps and I roll out in my skivvies,

I leave my space where there is a warm bed.
A warm wife that is pretty too.

A warm wood stove from the night before is nodding off ,
as it’s embers take a piece of maple from last summer and light it up in an instant.



I’d laid down for just a minute on the couch after stumbling down the hall to “pump the bilge”.

Figured that after that fire was going, I’d lay down for just a moment, was just going to rest my eyes for a few minutes.

(I know that never has happened to anyone else).






Warm wet dog kisses pulled me out of my sleep.


I woke up and assumed as much of a vertical position as I was able.




Alex slammed his chow,
I let him out the back and he waited for me by the side gate.

Truck loaded up the night before (he has to be able to tell that a hunt is coming, because he suddenly becomes more obedient as soon as I drag out a bag of deeks, or back the truck up to the boat).

Must be an “Alexism”

Total disregard for all commands “until a hunt is pending”.


He’s pretty sharp.
I reckon it’s the cowdog in him (probably border collie).

He knows what it is all about.

And when the rubber meets the road,
I am always glad to have him by my side.


We’re on our way.


I’m excited to try a new place.

New expectations,
New waters.

My regulars couldn’t make it, and the folks on standby had licenses for the other side of the river.



I used a GPS today for about the 3rd time in my life, and it was a good thing.

Pilings, sandbars, all manner of regular debris awaited us.




After we found our way to where the big river was,

We meandered along.



I printed off the map last night, and

with the help of a good Bowhound like Alex,
and much luck,

We found a likely spot to set the lines.



I ran a single gangline of about 20 birds and then 5 singles on long leads in the lee of the cove.


Everything seemed to be as planed until a single freighter pushed out with the outgoing tide.


I didn’t think too much of it.

I was in a few feet of water, had the bow anchor line out,

We were secure just before the dawn.


That freighter started sucking water away (up and out from where we were) and I could tell I was only in about knee deep water as it was quickly getting shallower,

worse,

There was a gigantic downed cottonwood that I’d wash over when the Bow Push came,

It would leave the Duckbomber stuck on high ground between the Cottonwood and the
sand spit for God only knows how long.

I knew I had only about 20 seconds to act.


I got the bow anchor yanked it up (standing on the bow)
Heaved it out as far as I could shotput 20 lbs to the high side of the cottonwood.


Ran back to the engine and lifted it up all the way out of the water,
Didn’t want that Wave slamming the motor into that massive cottonwood,

I could live with being highsided,

But did not want to slam the motor.




As soon as the big wave pushed through,

I ditched off of the high side of the boat while I had enough water surging through to pull the beast up and away from the cottonwood.

A “Bastard wave”.

That guy must have had 3,000,000 tons of lead shot in his Ship.



We made it.
Learned a lesson too.

(Anchor on the downstream side debris in case of Bow waves).



We saw loads of geese up and out about a mile.


I didn’t even blow on my call,

I had a good set of a couple dozen Divers.
Had 6 dabblers in a “sneak”
up shore.



If there was a “duck vacuum” I was in it.

I have never seen anything like it on the Big River.

Worked a good tide Exchange, and no birds flew past us. Not buffler,
Not a Cormorant.

Nothing.



I hunted 3 miles downriver.

Then Alex and I decided that 45 minutes post tide swing and no birds meant that it was time to do something completely different.


I figured that even when the chips are down,

Sometimes a guy needs to think about getting his aging birddog something to squeeze.


So we rolled up.



A long way up.


We set our set in Croakersville.




Alex waited patiently for a good one.

No sissies,

no red headed early season Sawbills.

Alex was ready for a drake Primo Sawbill

(Croaker Magnamus Exhibitus Granduricus)



We’d put in our time.

Heck, from 7:30 ish to 2:00 and not a single fly by.


And then he came,

Circling and without agenda,

gave us a look at his tail,

I croaked with my best croak (kind of makes me cough when I do it right)

He swung wide towards the fancy houses up high on the hills but circled back at about 500 yards.
White,

flashing against the Evergreens.


The water was too glassy,

It was time for drastic measures.


he looked like he lacked commitment anyhow.



In a fit of desperation, I threw about a ½ lb river rock into the water (for occasions like this) and it made a splash.




That bird locked in and on.



Wings cupped and a long slow last glide.
at last we had a bird that knew we were on the same planet.



A single shot and it fell.

Alex was thrilled, and he brought the bird back as though it was a Canvasback, or a Brant, or even a Harlequin.




I was proud of him,

Doesn’t matter what that Old hound dog brings up out of the big river.

The fact of the matter is that he brought it to me,
Proud,
And with a feeling of accomplishment.

He’d done his job.



I smiled,











He Smiled,

I said, “Thanks buddy,

you’re a better dog that to only get a single bird today,

but that’s all I can do”.

He kind of gave me a funny look.




Cocked his head and gave the bird a big lick.

he understood that we gave it everything we had,
and that was the important thing.







We hitched up the rigs and buckled up the vests and made our way back to where we began.

Looking forward to the next time we hear the Coffee maker beep,

And I roll out in my skivvies.

The next time I feel that wet sloppy kiss on my sleeping face.


Although a lot of folks might frown at a single bird.


Or even at a limit of a certain type of bird.


That is something that Alex and I have talked about lots of times.




We think that we’ll just keep on doing the best we can.

Regardless of it is a limit of Canvasbacks,
Greenheads,

Or just a run into the light of the moon,

With a little frozen spray on our muzzles,
&
An Unknown Cove round the next bend in the river.

[HOGGEMIN]

A very awsome post................. No matter how many or what spiecies its about the hunt not the kills.

[lentz]

Thanks for sharing, again!!! Always nice to read.

[greenheadgunner]

best one bird report I've ever seen. thanks bro.

[QH's Paw]

You've done it again Todd, without saying it. You've proven that in hunting, as in life, it's about the journey........not the destination.
Now let's get on with the next journey...salt chuck here we come.

[Keeper]

Thank you for a great post! I have spent this season sidelined with a shoulder injury and it's nice to hear someone being upbeat about their hunt.

Who cares how many birds...you got out there and had a great time with a terrific dog.

[Thunnus]

Great post!

[Teton]

Those heavy cargo ships draft a lot of water, especially when bucking the tide. Many times, my boat has been nearly beached after a large wave set and surge picks her up and sets her on the beach well above her anchor. Quick emergency action has always saved us from waiting until the tide comes back in. Since then, I try to anchor on steep shores, or behind breakwaters. The transom on my boat has a 6-700 pound motor bolted to it. It doesn't move very well when planted on dry land. The last time it happened, I lost my transducer, and barely got her to slide back into the water.

As to the duck vacuum, I cannot explain it. 60 miles offshore, when the tuna aren't biting, we call it "the desert" as if such a term has such a meaning when water is all a man can see in all directions. In any event, you were clearly not on the X. If there are no birds flying, that's one thing, but if there are birds in the air, and they won't play, that's another. One day last season on the big river, we moved two times before finding where the birds wanted to be. Its a lot of extra work, but that day, it paid off (and still is).

[STRUTTIN-1]

Thanx for sharing.A very simular thought that I just had with some hunting partners.1 bird or a limit its living the dream.