Memoirs of a bona fide birdbrain

[TylerS]

I realize most duck hunters have hung up the scattergun and waders for the year. Like a sudden bombing flock of blue-winged teal, another waterfowl season has come and gone in the blink of an eye.

As any pond pounder or field finagler knows, hunting ducks and geese can be about as frustrating as riding with your 90-year-old grandma through downtown St. Paul during rush hour. On the other hand, when everything comes together – when the setup is just right and the birds work your spread like cogs in a fine-tuned machine – waterfowling can be pure bliss.

I've been meaning to keep a journal for years of my hunts. Ever since I was in my teens and got the taste of chasing game through the outdoors, jotting down the happenings of a season's pursuits has been at the forefront of my thoughts.

But in more than a dozen years of lugging shotguns and rifles through every sort of backdrop imaginable, I’ve yet to put pen to paper and actually do so. Oh sure, I’ve written a few stories here and there. Mostly diatribes about the day or weekend, recalling anecdotal experiences for the sake of storytelling. I guess, in a way, that’s my strong suit.

And while I’d love to have jotted down every felled bird and every retrieve of the first real season under my faithful German wirehaired pointer, Remy, once again, I failed.

I still have a fairly good memory for detail, however, and what follows will be my best recollection of our 2011 hunting season. We’ll start with an early-August honker hunt with a good friend, and see if we can’t catch up at some point to these late season roosters.

I realize this is a waterfowl forum, and I’ll try to stick to that, but as any hunter knows, variety is the spice of life. And while ducks and geese are priority numero uno, especially here in the Prairie Pothole Region of North Dakota, I’d be remiss to pass on the chances presented by the myriad of game species in the region.

With that, I hope you enjoy memoir as much as I enjoy putting it together.

Best hunting,

Tyler

[TylerS]

To say I was chomping at the bit for the 2011 hunting season may be a slight understatement.

I tried speeding along the summer drudgery by occupying myself with other pursuits. Fishing was alright, for a bit; at least until the walleyes went deep and the hot days made going out past 10 a.m. an exercise in dehydration avoidance.

Once I left the lakes for good, it was on to other hobbies. There were those cornhole boards I constructed for my farther in law, the ones I begrudgingly made Gophers themed. It took every ounce of concentration to keep my Fighting Sioux pride from subconsciously trashing them throughout the project.

But building the boards took little more than a weekend. I still was stuck with a lot of time on my hands.

Thankfully, the breeder to my dog was kind enough to coach me and another guy with training. Both of us owned year-old puppies from his most recent litter, and he was more than happy to help us along when we showed him just how passionate we were about the process.

Now, before I get too far into this, let me make one thing clear to anyone who has yet to thoroughly train a dog: it’s tough. Like, chewing-on-an-overcooked-hunk-of-venison tough. And if you’ve ever had that pleasant experience of trying to consume a boot-leather-tough piece of meat, you also know it’s tear-out-your-hair frustrating.

Remy waiting for his turn in the water as we trained for his Natural Ability test in early June

No, training Remy was not a walk in the park. For a while there, it was one step forward, 13 steps back. But eventually things got easier as my furry companion and I figured each other out. Force fetching, which had its own set of trials and tribulations and is arguably one of the most heart-wrenching aspects of a hunting-dog’s training regime, turned out to be the highlight of my summer. The day he chomped down on that Canada goose, drug it back to my blind, and plopped it in my hand without dropping it, I knew force fetching had done its job.

But I’m getting a little ahead of myself, and there was one giant speedbump we hit at full speed that nearly turned my long-awaited hunting plans upside down.

[SledNeck]

The real duck season starts for me in 2 weeks. The wait is absolutely brutal.

[Gordie]

Great read Tyler cant wait to read more