Bucket list ideas to stay away from

  I wrote this last waterfowl season. I thought I'd post it to remind myself of the coming winter.

  My brother’s brother-in-law made an all night drive from Colorado to go water fowl hunting with us.

  Jim tries to do this each year. He seems to be blessed to hit his timing just right and we have fantastic hunting.
 This year the weather turned cold, very cold. The lake froze solid, pushing the ducks and geese onto rivers and mostly, onto private ponds where public cannot hunt.
   “We’ll just have to do the best we can with what we are facing,” I told Jim on the phone, while planning the mornings hunt.
  Jim, his son Kyle, and our nephews, Nick and Luke arrived in Jim’s Toyota and began piling on the clothes. It is so hard to dress for these hunts. We have to pack decoys about a quarter mile out in a field and then lay in a ditch to hide. If you dress for the cold hunt, you sweat like crazy packing decoys. If you dress for packing decoys you freeze as soon as you stop moving. You have to dress light for the pack because the last thing you need is for sweat to start freezing as the morning progresses.
  We packed about five dozen decoys into the field, pitch dark, working with head lamps. We hurried driving the trucks to a farm yard to hide them, then hiked our way back to the ditch.
  For the next two hours we hunkered under white sheets while laying on our backs in the snow drifts that filled the ditch, wondering why we hurried to get out of our warm trucks.
  Jim looked down the ditch at the shivering crew and made this comment, “I’m going to write a book about the top fifty crazy bucket list things one should NEVER do.”
  We managed to shoot a few geese before we all froze out. The geese were still flying over the field as we drove the trucks away. “Who cares,” I thought as I tried to warm my hands with the cold air blowing out my truck heat vents.
  The next day’s hunt was even better… I mean worse. We met at the Snake River with my jet boat to try a duck hunt. We always try to get the kids as much shooting as we can. Goose hunting is rewarding, but the shooting is usually much less than the duck hunting.
   I arrived at the river early, once again hours before daylight,  and chipped the ice out of the boat drain plug holes until I could wiggle in the rubber drain plugs. Burrrr… my hands were freezing.
   I backed the boat into the water in the pitch dark and set up to launch. It seemed to take a long, long time to get the motor fired in the bitter cold, but at last, it roared to life and in a cloud of steamy smoke. Over the sound of the outboard motor I heard a grinding sound.
  “What in the world is that,” I thought, while digging for my head lamp. I shined it at the river to see big chunks of ice float past the stern of the boat.
  I dodged the ice foes, launched the boat, and then tied it tight to the shore to wait for Jim and the boys to arrive.
   When Gary’s truck pulled into the parking lot at daylight we were greeted by the sight of huge chunks of ice floating down the river. I was looking to see if I could pick my way between them with the boat, but as the morning progressed they moved tighter together and larger in size. Some of the ice foes were as large as a car. Not something I wanted to try running a jet boat through in freezing temperatures.
  Bad bucket list idea number two.
  We decided to bag the duck hunt. Gary, Jim and the boys would go upland bird hunting in the desert hills.
  Later that day I received a call from a friend that one stretch of the river was flowing ice free, and ducks were there. I texted Jim and Gary about a hunt the following day.
  Daylight the next morning found us on another boat ramp, launching the jet boat through the ice frozen across the boat ramp. At least the river was not flowing ice, even in the below zero temperatures.
  I informed Jim that I was very nervous to be running the river in this bitter cold. One mistake and we would be in trouble. It was just too cold to make any mistakes.
   The two mile run up the river was nothing short of torture. There was no way to keep ears, face, or hands warm. It was so cold. We set out the duck decoys and had a fairly good shoot, but once again the words, “What in the world are we doing here?” kept coming up.
  Guns freeze up, as soon as you got out of the water your waders would freeze stiff and we would have to walk like little tin men! It was great.
  Back at the trucks with hands warming by the heaters, we again talked about the bucket list of things someone should never try. This was number three in just as many days!
  Three of Jim’s days in Idaho waterfowl hunting were days you could cross off your bucket list as things you have to be a bit crazy to even think about trying.
  We did them, and lived to tell about it.

I Could Have, If They Would Have

  I received the text late in the evening. It read: "Good weather tomorrow, let's go duck and deer hunting to our secret lake."
 I thought long and hard... at least one second, before I replied, "See you at daylight. I'll see if Mike wants to go as well."
  My good friend, Matt, along with Mike, and I have hiked to the secret lake for a duck and deer hunt before with good duck success.
  Mike was "all in" and we met at his boat in the morning with daylight burning a hole in the darkness.
  We raced out to the end of the road boat launch and, of course, forgot the life jackets, (Ok, so we are all getting old) and had to make a quick trip back to the garage.
  The boat ramp was busy with anxious deer hunters. It had been raining for nearly a week, so with the clear skies, the deer should be roaming the beaches. Our plan to hike for them was a little different.
  Mike raced his boat to our anchor spot and we "Indian" anchored the boat. That is a system of anchoring for rising and falling tides. The last thing you want, is to arrive at the boat after a long days hunt, to find it sitting high and dry on shore from the tide going out.
  Mike has a neat 100 foot bungee cord which allows him to drop the anchor a good 50 feet from shore motor the boat onto the beach, unload his gear and himself and then let go. with a second tie up line in hand attached to the boat you watch the boat spring back into deep water. He then ties the line to a tree and upon returning to the shore, he just pulls the boat back in.
  Matt, Mike and I load our backpacks with decoys, lunches, and deer hunting items. We load our shotguns with buck shot in the event of a close encounter with a hungry brown bear. Mike is carrying his deer rifle. Jasmine, my yellow lab, proudly leads the way through the brush.
  We hike for just about two hours, stopping every time we come to a muskeg (a swamp like clearing in the under brush and trees) and try calling for deer. All the muskegs have deer rubs on the little pine saplings indicating that there are in fact deer in the area. Nothing.
  We hike and call, hike and call. Across creeks, over blow down logs, busting through head high brush, and sometimes even walking on bear trails with very fresh bear tracks. With sweat running down our faces and backs, we make the final steep climb to the little mountain lake.
  Mike parts company to go deer hunting, while Matt and I set up our big spread of four duck decoys. It is just too difficult to pack in more than that.  It is a beautiful lake that we doubt very many people even know exists. It took Matt several years to find a way into it after a Coast Guard chopper pilot told him of it.
  We sit and chat, eat lunch, and visit some more. We watch swans fly over on their fall migration, and visit... waiting for ducks. Nothing.
  After a couple hours Mike comes back from his deer hunt. Nothing. did not see a deer. Hmmm... sounds like a couple duck hunters I know of.
  It is nearing 1:30 in the afternoon. We have got to get going. The daylight is leaving so quickly this time of the year. We quickly pack our decoy spread and head back to the boat.
  We try calling a few times for deer, but with the light fading, need to keep pushing.
  We arrive at the beach with the daylight fading quickly. We bungee the boat to us, load our gear and the dog, and race for the boat ramp.
  I arrive back home right at dark to my wife's question, "Well... did you get any?"
  "You know," I told her, "If any ducks would have flown, or if any deer would have shown themselves, we sure would have!"
  I doubt that anyone will ever do a much harder duck hunt than that one. I guess it is not in the getting of the game but in the chasing it.
  We all agreed that we did have a great chase!

                        Mike and Matt calling for deer at a muskeg             

 

 

 

Has to be some kind of record

  I jumped on a plane out of Sitka headed for Idaho, to take in the annual whitetail deer hunt with my lower 48 friends and family. 
There were a few loose ends to tie down, then I picked up my Dad, and headed for the mountains.
  Dad is 94 years "young" so getting a deer at that age has got to be some kind of record for the state. I cannot imagine too many guys hunting the hills at 94. 
  We arrived in camp to bright skies and sunshine. Not the weather we were hoping for. To get the whitetail deer moving out of their normal patterns, we always hope for snow. Lots of snow. The ground was bare and the temperature very warm, not at all what the hunters were looking for.
  My brother, Gary, and his two sons, and his wife, convoyed up the mountains with us. At the top we decided Dad would ride with Gary and I would take Gary’s son, Nick, on a long hike. 
  Nick and I took one of my favorite old abandoned logging roads, and hiked to an area where I have found many bucks make scrapes and rubs during the bucks rutting season. Not much to be found except piles and piles of wolf droppings. In each pile of wolf dropping was deer hair. Idaho is now plagued with wolves that are destroying their deer and elk herds. 
  Nick and I came up empty that evening as did Gary and his family. We did not expect to get many deer on the first evening of a 7 day hunt, but no one even observed a single deer, not even in the headlights coming off the mountain in the dark. Not looking very promising at all.
   Gary’s eldest son, Nate was the first to score. He was able to get a nice doe.  Nate was now done hunting for himself so he elected to take Dad (his grandpa) back to the area of his doe and see if there could be more deer there.
   Nate and Dad arrived at the hunting area and in no time spotted a deer. 
  Nate hustled behind Dad with his shooting sticks as the elusive whitetail deer wound through the thick forest.

  “Deer right here!” Nate whispered to Dad. Nate looked around and Dad was aiming his gun, but Nate knew he was not seeing the deer as there was a big pine tree in the way.
  “Over here,” Nate whispered and tried to tug on dad’s coat sleeve to get him into the view of the standing deer.
  “No, I’ve got one right here in my sights!” Dad whispered back to Nate.
  Nate looked around the tree on Dad’s side and sure enough there stood another deer. Nate whipped the shooting sticks under Dad’s gun and stood back watching.
  Blam!
   “You got it, you got it!” Nate shouted. Dad made a great shot and a buck was Dad’s
  It was a time of celebration back at camp. Ninety-four years old and harvesting a deer. What a great accomplishment.
  While many people that age are on walkers or in homes, Dad is able to be out roaming the forest with his grand children.
  We celebrated around the camp fire the only way to do it in a hunting camp... eating fire roasted hot dogs!
   Way to go Dad.
                                             Dad (light blue coat), Nate, and the group

Capture of the Summer

  My fishing summer is over, diving has been wrapped up, and my hunting is now in full swing.
  The rain continues to pour down here in South East Alaska, making the outside world a drippy place to be. Now is the time to dig through the summers photos and see if any I took are worth saving.
  Taking a picture from a moving boat, with the waves throwing you around is a bit challenging, to say the least. Most of my pictures are a bit out of focus, off center of frame, or just shots of bare water, sky, or my boots. Not an exciting addition to the family album for sure.
  I did happen upon a couple of shots that I'm quite proud of. here is the story that goes with it:
  "Reel them in," I instructed the clients, "Read 'em and weep, as they say in card playing."
  The end of another successful day was upon us. We were about an hour's run from town and it was time for us to high tail it that way.
  With the anchor pulled and the clients settled in, I headed the bow of the boat towards town. In the distance, towards shore, I caught a splash of white water out of the corner of my eye, nothing unusual for the ocean as the waves crash on the rocks all the time. It was a large enough splash of water to keep me looking in that direction.
  A huge dark form lifted out of the ocean and came crashing back down in a sheet of white spray.
  "Whale!" I shouted over the engine noise to the clients.
  "He is a long ways out there towards the shore line," I instructed, as we all stood with eyes glued to the far shore line.
  Another dark form that ended in sheets of white spray announced the whales presence to the clients.
  "Wow, look at that," they all shouted and raced for cameras.
  It took us quite some time to motor the three or four miles to where the big beast continued to breach.
  "Let's hope he keeps jumping until we can get close enough for some pictures," I commented as we cruised in his direction.
  We finally arrived near the area of the whale and I cut the engines with the boat still drifting towards it.
 "Whoosh!" Out of the water rose the huge dark form of the whale. He was close now and camera shutters were clicking like crazy.
  Everyone on deck cheered at the spectacular show this grand giant was putting on for us.
  We drifted for some time shooting pictures and chatting about what an amazing sight this was.
  It was the perfect end to a great day of fishing.

Deer and Bears

 Last week diving for cucumbers found Mike and I doing the combination of shrimping and diving. Our good friends, Scott and CJ, did a dive and deer hunt combination. We learned the story back in town at the fuel dock.
  On the way back to town Scott and CJ spot a couple of deer standing on the beach. They get down their little zodiak skiff and CJ paddled to the beach.
  Scott backs the big boat out and watches. He gave CJ a hand held radio, which is common practice here in Alaska.
  The deer move off the beach and into the woods as soon as CJ gets close, so he follows in hot persuit.
  Here is CJ's side;
  "I'm sneaking through the thick undergrowth on a nice game trail. I know the deer have to be close. I see movement up ahead and freeze. It is the butt end of a big brown bear. Not a good thing at all. Just then the two deer come racing down the trail away from the bear. I aim the gun when the radio starts squaking."
  "CJ! CJ! Cj, are you there?" Scott's frantic voice booms out in the quiet forest.
  CJ is desparetaly trying to muffle the radio and line up for a shot at one of the deer
  "There are two bears somewhere near you!" Scott's frantic voice booms over the radio again.
  CJ lines up a deer and pulls the trigger. A good shot, the deer goes down.
  Now back on the boat Scott is seeing things a little differently.
  As soon as Cj heads into the woods, Scott notices a couple of big brown bears on the beach lumbering along.  They turn and head into the forest on a collision course with CJ.
  Scott is on the radio trying to warn CJ when he hears a single riffle shot boom out.
  Now Scott is almost in a panic. Did the two bears find CJ? Did he shoot in self defense? Is he being mauled right now?
  "Are you there? Are you alright?" Scott keeps on the radio.
  "Hey, I'm fine, Scott. I just shot a nice buck. I'll be right out with it." CJ replies back.
  Scott relaxes a bit to hear CJ's voice but is still very alert knowing there are a couple of bears somewhere near him.
  As he draggs the buck to the beach the other deer shows itself, and CJ makes another good shot. Two bucks down, and still two bears in the woods close by.
  With the hair standing on his neck, CJ field dresses the two deer and gets them to the skiff. He paddles back to the boat and Scott picks him up.
 After comparing stories Scott and CJ learn that there were actually three bears in the woods with CJ, the two Scott observed on the beach at the same time CJ was seeing the back end of one in the woods.
  We all got a good laugh at the stories told at the fuel dock, but all were very thankful that the bears did not get agressive with CJ. It could have turned a deer hunt into a very intense situation. It is never a good idea to wrestle a brown bear in the woods.