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Driving through Sioux Falls in rush hour; with The Eagles belting out
“Life In The Fast Lane” on the truck stereo, my attention was suddenly drawn to
the lady driving next to me… She was gesturing wildly toward the trailer being
towed by my truck. Of course I was in a construction zone, so as soon as there
was room I pulled over to inspect my trailer.
Immediately, I noticed something awry on the trailer. You see I was towing
a triple level trailer that housed Four Rivers Layout Boats, one above the
other. Each boat had a hard cover or lid that protected the interior of the boat
and allowed extra gear to be stowed inside the boat without blowing out. Well,
let’s say that is all good as long as the cover is still attached to the
boat!
Yep, the top Four River Layout Boat had somehow lost it’s cover. I had
checked all the ratchet straps when I stopped for gas only forty miles prior but
obviously the strap had come undone allowing the lid to blow off. Now I
frantically tried to do a quick inventory of the contents while stopped in the
emergency lane of I-29. A quick once over revealed that I had at least lost some
grass mats which might be in Minnesota by now with the gale force winds blowing along
the highway. The best I could do in the situation was to head into town and try
to make some sort of temporary boat cover.
Keep in mind that I had a triple level layout boat trailer, a truck filled
with dog kennels and gear and this was the evening rush hour. Once I found a
home improvement center, I thought I could merely get them to cut a piece of
plywood to fit my boat cockpit and I would be back on the road. No way…
The road trip curse continued to rear its ugly head. There was nary a
competent employee at the home improvement store. It seemed no one could operate
the saw, which would allow a sheet of plywood to be cut down to fit the boat. A
mere two hours later, I pulled from their parking lot, guaranteed to never cheer
for Jimmie Johnson again.
Mad as heck, I steered my rig back onto northbound I-29 and to what I hoped
to be a less interesting foray. You see, I have a long standing road trip curse.
At least once a year, something crazy happens while en route to some hunting or
fishing destination! All my buddies love the stories but it does get to be a bit
overwhelming at times.
Somehow, I made it to Fargo, North Dakota and the motel where I was to meet
Dave,one of my buddies. Once his flight arrived (late) and we both caught some
shuteye, we would feel better. An early wake call got us going along with some
healthy anticipation of what lay in store for the trip.
Several hours later we arrived at the farmhouse that would serve as our
operating post for the duration of the trip. The dogs were ready to exit the
truck so we let them get some air while we unpacked. Dave gave me an update as
to the whereabouts of our counterparts, Glenn and Kevin. It seemed they had
skipped the directions I had given them and chosen to follow their GPS. High
technology took them right to a washed out road, forcing a detour of an hour or
more! After lunch they pulled up, each blaming the other’s navigational
device!
A quick hello, and we headed back out to scour the countryside for our
quarry – ducks! Sure just about every pothole held a few ducks, it was the
concentrations that we sought out. After a few hours we met up and compared
notes. Once the game plan was agreed upon, we headed back to the house for
dinner and an adult beverage.
Every duck hunter knows the joys and excitement that comes with the eve of
opening day. Let’s not forget that the forecast was for a great population of
waterfowl in the pothole region, so our hopes were really high. I personally
hoped for the best after talking everyone into coming along for the trip.
Since we would be hunting just a few miles away there was no reason to rise
at some crazy hour to head out. A reasonable wake up, a quick cup of coffee and
we were on our way. Morning temperature was a sultry fifty degrees! When we
arrived at the chosen spot, we dumped our gear and parked the trucks. As I
pulled my waders on I couldn’t help but get a bit antsy as I led my retriever
Vito into the pre-dawn marsh and began dispersing decoys.
In short order, the field was set, so to speak and we each took our
position. Since we had all brought dogs, we had drawn straws to see who would
hunt their dog first. (We had agreed on no more than two dogs at a time). Glenn
and I would hunt the yellow dogs first.
As luck would have it, birds silently slid into the spread as the darkness
wore off the water’s surface. A lack of communication allowed those first couple
ducks to escape without even hearing loss let alone a feather being ruffled.
Moments later, things began to change for the better. A low flying group of Teal
buzzed right into the spread drawing flack from Dave and Glenn. It was unknown
who dropped the first duck but all that mattered was we were on the board!
Quickly the stars began to align. Ducks dropped in for a look and were met
with fast moving steel pellets. After I sent a few misplaced shots downrange, I
gained my focus and after stuffing my shotgun with new Fiocchi Speed Steel
loads, I began to drop a few birds myself. In just minutes we all had ducks on
our straps and the dogs were properly impressed.
A flight of Widgeon came at us right on the deck, and once the firing had
ceased, we began to collect ducks and take a count. Somehow it seemed that our
shooting skills were improving as were had merely one more duck to collect for a
four man limit! Kevin was the only fellow to be short of his limit so he
journeyed back into the cattails to try and remedy that situation. I followed
suit to try and capture the moment on film. Some faulty ammo caused him to miss
a shot at a pair of Gadwalls. I offered him some advice and Fiocchi ammo, when a
duck slipped right into the spread.
“Canvasback,” I whispered, and immediately the shot rang out. Unfortunately
for Kevin his shot pattern had badly disfigured the drake’s upper body. Still it
was his first “Can” and we were all there to see it. The other guys had ducked
down in the weeds along the shoreline but were privy to it all. 
Not a bad opening morning… God had blessed us with a multitude of ducks,
including Pintail, Gadwall, Teal, Widgeon, Ringneck, Mallard, and of course the
“King”, a Canvasback. I couldn’t resist a little fun so I rang up another buddy
of ours at home and gave him the hunting report!
As we gathered up gear and shook hands, I just wondered if this was the
start of good things or if this might just be our lone success. I knew warmer
weather was on its way and that rarely helps duck hunting.
Once back at the house, we had some congratulatory words and a snack. Then
we hit the road again to scout. Later, we had to choose from a timber laden
waterway or a slough surrounded by standing corn
but both filled with Mallards. The decision was made to use the layout boats at
the timber spot in the morning. 
A great home cooked dinner and a few drinks afterward, were all we needed
to get pumped up for the next day’s adventure. After a few hours of story
telling we headed off to rest up for the next day’s hunt.
I wish I could say that things stayed the course. Unfortunately the morning
didn’t quite fare as well as the first. Few ducks arrived and those that did
usually avoided our calls. We ended the A.M. hunt with a mere pair of ducks. As
we pulled the boats from the water we compared notes and decided to hit the
cornfield that afternoon.
Once we arrived we pack muled through a thick, head high corn maze which
deposited us at what we hoped to be a nice little evening resting spot. It
wasn’t long before the fellas began to return to forum. Dave, Glenn and Kevin
alternated between ducks and quickly began to rack up a few. I had drawn the
straw to hunt my dog and was concentrating on just handling him since he was
somewhat of a novice. Dave also had his dog, Katie, a petite but well trained
little gal. 
In no time at all those guys had busted their limits and it was on my
shoulders to try and complete our daily limit. I really had no excuses, yet
somehow allowed a few ducks to leave the “hole” unscathed. In time my aim
improved and as shooting time neared, I finished my six bird limit with a
Hollywood (Shoveler). A few back slaps and congrats were in order as we picked
up the dekes and began to haul gear back to the trucks.
Since we at our possession limit we had to consume some of our bounty in
order to hunt again. Thus we began an all out marathon of slicing and marinating
duck meat to be made into jerky by Kevin. Some also ended up in the pot for a
batch a of slow cooked chili.
I was thankful that the day had turned around and that we were able to
again scratch out a four man limit, although it took literally all day to so.
Thoughts and opinions were discussed and plans were made for the following days
hunt. It was obvious that both man and beast were beginning to go to rest
earlier each night.
Once again the day dawned, warm and windy. The wind was our one saving
grace I felt. Once again we headed for new water. This time a pothole inside a
fenced off pasture. The cattle couldn’t get anywhere near us and we had clear
shooting lanes without endangering any livestock. Of course as the day wore on,
we noticed that the ducks seemed to enjoy the company of the cows more than us.
We watched dishearteningly as flight after flight dismissed our calling and
headed right into similar water on the other side of the fence. Once again we
had a difficult morning, able to retrieve only eleven ducks. High temperatures
in the mid eighties was not helping our cause and I feared the worst. Grabbing
at straws three of us, Dave, Kevin and I decided to head back to the corn for
the P.M. activities. Glenn needed to catch up on his work and decided to head
back to camp.
Isn’t that how it always starts? One guy heads home, and that turns the
luck for the group it seems. That is exactly how things turned out. Almost upon
dropping decoys were we met by singles and doubles of ducks. Dave was single
handily making them pay for his earlier misfortune. In just three quarters of an
hour he had finished his daily limit. Kevin and I were slowly headed that
direction as well. Finally we dispatched a pair of Gadwalls and filled our
quotas as well. Once again, God had given us a great hunt. The afternoon was
truly a gentleman’s hunt made up of singles and doubles decoying right into the
small but effective spread of decoys. Paired with the setting sun, and three
good friends alternating shots,it was on par with few other moments.
The next morning would be the last for Kevin and Glenn as they had to head
home earlier than Dave and I. Once again we cooked duck for dinner and had a
festive meal. We chose to hunt a secluded spot situated in the middle of a
soybean field. Only time would tell what our fortunes held in store. 
Dawn broke with possibly the strongest winds of the week. At one point I
thought a saw Dorothy fly by… As we walked single file to the marsh I hoped
for the best but knew our luck was bound to run out at some point. I had merely
scouted this spot from the road as it was impossible to clearly see it from
anything but the pond bank. I knew it held ducks and
my gut seemed to feel right. As we walked in we flushed fifty or so ducks which
made the decision appear a good one. Once we set up and stepped back into the
reeds we were completely hidden and all seemed right in the world. Minutes later
a Mallard flew just a little to close and was dispatched by Kevin and we were on
the board once again! Shortly thereafter, a pair of beautiful Pintails eased
into the spread but alas they were on the very outside edge of the decoys.
Although Dave and I had agreed to allow the others first chance they had no
opportunity at these ducks. Once the pair swam into the decoys we flushed them
and dumped one. Dave later killed another duck as did each Kevin and Glenn. At
nine sharp we fled the scene of the crime so that the guys could leave at a
reasonable time.
Later that evening, Dave and I returned to that same hole with each of our
dogs. After continually making adjustments to our set up, we began to kill
ducks. First one Drake Pintail, then another which combined from earlier to give
us our daily limit of two each. I lucked into a beautiful, orange legged, green
headed drake Mallard and Dave shot another Mallard. As I stood up to stretch my
legs, I caught a glimpse of something that had eluded us al week- geese. There
on the deck was a group of six “honkers” silently approaching from the west. We
had no goose decoys out and I had just taken my goose call off my lanyard and
left it in the truck! All we could do was pray and hope for the best. Somehow
things worked and the geese began to finish but out on the edge of shotgun
range.
Since we had nothing to loose, we both rose an fired dropping one Canada.My
new dog, Vito retrieved his first goose then and there making his owner proud.
As shooting time began to arrive, we saw less and less waterfowl. We feared the
hunt might be over and began to think about packing it in. Suddenly as before,
another flight of geese approached from the north. This time we had slightly
better results dropping two, which Vito retrieved also. 
Needless to say it was a heavy (but thankful) load to carry back to the
truck! Five ducks and three heavy honkers stretched our game straps and made our
shoulders stiff since we still had to carry the decoys and other gear as well.
Like I say, that was a “good tired”! The dogs stayed close and we could sense
their gratitude for a great hunt as well. Everyone was happy on the journey back
to the truck.
On the ride back to the house, Dave and I agreed that we had just finished
our last hunt of the trip. We would end it on a high note and allow ourselves
time to eat and leisurely pack up in the morning. Of course we had another main
course consisting of duck; this time it was duck chili !
Immediately after dinner, we kicked back in recliners with a couple cold
drinks while Katie and Vito the dogs dozed at our feet. A week’s worth of duck
hunting had worn this pair out. There was nothing but considerable images of
setting wings, recent retrieves, and the whisper of early morning wings floating
in the minds of both humans and canines as we relaxed in the front room. Soon it
would be back to the real world, the hustle and bustle of life. This trip would
have to suffice until that next journey to the field or marsh can recharge our
batteries.
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