Postby Wildfowler » Fri Jun 29, 2007 11:21 pm
I've got a better one I'd like to re-tell later, but this will do for now.
Was hunting alone in a place I call "The Glory Hole", which is a sparsely tree'd cypress swamp. The place wasn't really much to look at, but I like hunting there. I say I was hunting alone, but in reality, the only person with me was The Squealer, my faithful dog. I was set up in the perfect one man/dog natural blind. The tree was still standing a good 15 or 20 feet up to the point where it had been broken off long before I ever saw the place. I'll bet there was 30 or 40 feet of the rest of the now petrified tree in the water, and more than enough a "stump" left to hide my outline when standing beside it. I could quickly make my retreat to the shadows of the stump if any ducks came into view. We had been sitting there for a while. Sitting on the Cypress log which was firmly resting on the bottom of the shallow swamp, I had my back resting against the stump where the tree had fallen. From the look of things, it must have broken over and fell eons ago, probably felled by hurricane Camille.
It was cloudy, and a Tuesday. I felt sure that no one else could have hunted with me and didn't even bother calling anyone to hunt that day. Just felt like going by myself. We sat there, and sat there, and sat there. And saw nothing. As much as I enjoy it, I can get a little stir crazy. Especially when hunting alone, and had probably decided to move to try another spot. Being a cloudy afternoon, I should have known better than to try the Glory Hole, but decided to go anyway.
I had only made about 10 feet of forward progress away from my seat, with The Squealer walking the length of the knotty plank that we were just sitting on when I heard them. That distinctive sound of wings that were surely fixed straight on my position. I immediately froze into place and thankfully was close enough to the downed tree to take a quick seat and hunker down. I scrambled quickly and made my stand with the squealer at my left side. Face down, searching the reflection in the water, I saw them. There were three ducks in total, and was pretty sure at least two of them were Greenheads. They first passed over my left quarter, and I was able to glance up in their direction to get a positive ID. It was three Mallards, and all three were Greenheads. First looking at them in the reflection of the water on this gray overcast day was like looking at them in a black and white photo and I wasn't entirely sure until I looked up once they passed overhead.
The Squealer, now busy practicing her music quietly to herself must have known that her full volume recital was soon to come, and she had to be ready for her performance. Instinctively, I put my free arm over her shoulder to try and contain her excitement since we were well out in the open. Doing so only made things worse for her. There we were, literally like two bumps on a log and I sure hoped that's what the threesome overhead was still thinking. My right arm was busy cradling my best gun, and now my left arm was cradling my retriever. I had no way to even think about blowing my duck call from this position. Instead I just decided to watch to see what they would do. The ducks almost always come to this spot regardless of any amount of calling and I learned a long time ago that the Glory hole will make an expert caller out of anyone who knows how to hide out in the open. Normally If I'm by myself I won't even call, preferring to keep my finger firmly pegged on the trigger. But if I have invited company with me, then I like to turn up the charm.
It was still very much an overcast day. The winds were out of the South West this day, but I had seen little glimmers of sun shine earlier on the drive up which is why I really wanted to hunt here in the first place. A cold front was on the way and I was hoping to be here if the clouds decided to break for good. As it was now, there were nothing but the muted grays of this monochrome afternoon. The Drakes have made their first pass over my position and have dipped just below the trees.
And they were spooky too, which was unusual for this spot. It must have been the clouds that kept them from committing at once. Instead, the Greenheads made another pass, and they really weren't getting any closer to my decoys, but they were getting lower. They couldn't have been seeing me, were they? I know I was not doing the best job of concealing myself as they circled. I alternated between watching their likeness from the water, and watching them directly after they passed overhead of our picturesque setting. Maybe they were seeing me, maybe they weren't? But something definitely kept them from committing too soon. They made another pass and were now really low, but still circled and wouldn't get closer than about 60 yards of me. Looking back on this, I know they must have seen my figure sunk down there in the mud, just inches above the water. But they may have been weary from their travels ahead of this cold front and might have been willing to overlook such a minor flaw in the details, just to be able to settle on in to our spot, and this was now exactly what they appeared to be doing.
On the next pass they had become so low that I didn't have to look up at them and couldn't even see them reflecting in the murky water anymore. All I could do was continue to look straight ahead and see them when passed into my field of view. They were now at eye level with me and the squealer when they sailed around out of sight behind me for the last time.
And it was at this time that the wind must have shifted to the North, because now there was one tiny break in the clouds. One single ray of sunlight shown through the clouds. It came through at a low, late afternoon angle and illuminated a small patch of scenery ahead of me just as the drakes were coming back into view. This was surely to become a "Stephen Kirkpatrick" moment I was witnessing. Those three Greenheads glided right through that single sunbeam and illuminated the whole world around me. Their wings, fully outstretched were perpendicular to the water as they banked around and coming much closer to me in the shifting wind. I remember the stark contrast of those vivid colors superimposed on the gray background. It was such a bright vivid scene, that it seemed unavoidable but to avert my eyes to even be able to look at it. It was surreal. Like looking at a color re-touched photo, live and in person. I'd have sworn that I must have captured a small glimmer of what heaven might have looked like that day. The whole duration was only about one downstroke of a wingbeat that the ducks were glimmering in the light. Even the Squealer must have recognized the powerful beauty of the event that had just unfolded there before us. Fully aware, she looked at me as if to say, "did you just see that"?
It was all I could do to bring myself to raise my gun and shoot after what I had just witnessed. Neither one of us hear any report, or even felt any recoil as I unleashed both barrels of my gun. The next thing that I really remember was taking one of these gentlemen from the dog. We both sat there and admired the handsome creature who had just moments before caused time to stand still. It was a just a brief pause from moment that I'm sure neither one of us will ever forget.
driven every kind of rig that's ever been made, driven the backroads so I wouldn't get weighed. - Lowell George
