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First season of the millenia stories

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Hello everyone!
Now that the final days of 2000 are fast approaching, it's time to reminisce.
Let's hear some of your great, or not so great hunting expieriences. Share a sunrise in the marsh, a cold day in the deer stand or that covy of grouse that your pup flushed on it's first trip out.

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Oh Ya, Waskel-De-Wabbit's!

I dig hunting cottontail's in late winter with a 22 pistol and my dog, ton's of fun and great eating too.

I sure do miss my old pal Sir Elmer Fudd, my Basset hound, he was a great fishing friend an companion top notch Waskel-De-Wabbit hunter.

Yup, I guess I hunt alone now, it just won't be the same without his WOOOOOO--WOOOO--WOOO sounding in the wood's. Not sure who had the most fun?

Ton's of fun, good memories!


Backwater Eddy...><,,>

Backwater Guiding Service

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After missing the firearm season last year I was gung-ho on making up for it this year. For the opener this year I was early to bed, early to rise, scentless soap, and painstaking extra attention to every detail when heading out to the stand opening weekend. For all the extra effort I didn't see anything except for some squirrels and woodpeckers.

The second week of deer camp I was more into the "good times" we all know that go along with it. After a full friday of sitting, I again saw nothing. A little frustrated and 15 minutes before dark I lit up a tasty swisher wood-tip cigar thinking about a beer and a game of cards. Loe and behold 5 minutes later a decent 11 pointer came strolling out of the thicket 30 yards from me heading right to where I laid some scent pads earlier in the day. I quick tossed the wood-tip out behind me and let the old boy have it right through the boiler-room. Needless to say I got some grief for smoking on the stand when I got to the boys back at the trucks but then again I had something to show for it.

Either those bucks like wood-tips as much as me and I'm on to a new hunting tactic or that was the best stroke of dumb luck I'll ever have. It makes for a good story to tell though.

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My golden retriever pup turned 1 year old on October 13th. Our first hunting season together was indeed filled with great memories. From her first go around on youth waterfowl day, to a 10-day fulfilling trip to Saskatchewan, to chasing local roosters through the corn, it was all enjoyable and memorable.

But one particular hunt was special, and I thought I’d share it in more detail. Here’s the excerpt from my journal for October 8th, 2000:

Bottoms of the ‘Ol Man
Partly Cloudy/Chilly/Good stiff NW wind
Greg & Rubee

Greg wanted to try out the new/old Evinrude acquired this summer, so he picked me up in the dark and we headed east to the backwaters of the mighty Miss. I was anxious to try this particular area, as it had been 16 years since my last visit.

After a bit of throttle adjustment at the landing, we made our way out past the conveniently posted expired license plates & into the main body of water. Determining the vintage Alumacraft wasn’t too close to any other flashlights, we began setting decs around a couple clumps of bulrushes (or frags as the locals call them) . A nice wind was blowing so I suggested we set about a dozen of the mallard decoys in a line as the boat drifted towards our soon to be floating blind. Rumor had it a few divers would be around…

As day broke and the wind picked up even more, plenty of birds filled the sky. They seemed to be on a mission, flying high & taking advantage of tailwinds. Soon though, lower birds started making quick fly-byes. They were large ducks. After one group came zipping through close, Greg barely had time to say "cans" before a single shot raged from his 870. Rubee was ready to hit the water, but this was a "no birder."

After a few more missed opportunities, it was obvious that nearly all the ducks checking our single line of decoys were indeed canvasbacks. We’d pass on the birds that grouped together, realizing that one bird per person was the legal limit & we both intended to drop a bull.

Then it happened. Contrary to Greg’s "they never land in the decoys" comment uttered only an hour earlier, two drakes skidded to a halt just on the end of our makeshift diver string. Hmmmm? Before we had time to contemplate the situation beyond a chuckle, another group of 8 or so did a fly-by and banked around to take a closer look. This time I was ready, and on the second volley the bull I had led by a foot crashed from formation. Rubee knew something was up when I gave him a swat on the water to assure there’d be no escape.

This was the moment of truth. I lined Rubee up for a long blind retrieve and sent her. Once she cleared the‘rushes, my hours of training all seemed worth while. Rubz was heading on a perfect line towards the prize bird. Detoured only once to glance at the closest decoy, the command "go on" sent her back on target well beyond the decoy spread. I couldn’t have been more proud when she grabbed my first canvasback ever in one swoop and began her swim back. My dog held the bird even as I hoisted her into the boat, then delivered to hand. This was a very special hunt, one I will always remember and treasure.

[This message has been edited by J.A.Say.Tree (edited 01-19-2001).]

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  • Your Responses - Share & Have Fun :)

    • ifishwalleye
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