Gotta love windy, snowy, mid-teens weather in December. Can't think of a more fun way to spend a morning than at the invite of great friends, anticipating the day's shoot over a few cups of pre-dawn coffee, then sharing a blind with my son where we would have to shoot mallards in self-defense.
Six hunters total, split into three different blinds. Matthew and I hunkered down in one blind, trying to stay warm in the wind and cold. As soon as daylight came a few volleys were fired upstream from us. It started snowing greenheads. Probably the thickest mass of mallards I have ever seen. A stiff 25mph wind made them want to get down, regardless of how few decoys or where/how they were placed.
Was about fifteen minutes after shooting light before any ducks made it down to us. The first group to get to us had to be well over 100 birds, with almost all of them having green heads and orange legs. Matthew called the shot. We stood and laid six shots in to the mass of thrashing wings, watching ducks smash into each other as they climbed upon seeing us rise from the blind.
Pick one and shoot, pick one and shoot, pick one and shoot. The first shot being all of twenty yards. The following shots being about the same, as the clamoring of frantic ducks interfered with the escape efforts of the entire squadron.
When the feathers drifted past us, Matthew and I took inventory. Seven mallards were laying on the water. Wow. Never have I seen seven ducks taken from one salute by two shooters. All we needed was one more big group like that, and if our shooting continued with that lethality, we would be limited out.
Not surprising, as daylight grew, the big groups busted up, leaving us those vulnerable kamikazes of singles and pairs, all hovering in the wind, trying to sort out which pocket of our small fifteen-decoy spread would be the best resting spot, giving ample time to stand, draw the bead, and fire before they could rise and flare downwind.
The other guys were firing with greater frequency than us. They were done before we were. Took Matthew and I another half hour to get the next seven mallards. Never once needing to raise a call to my mouth.
All in all, six guys took their seven-mallard limit in less than an hour. So much fun, yet so short is the euphoria when they come in like this.
I hope the snow subsides, as we are on the brink of having too much snow for ducks to stay around much longer. Cold is fine, but if the snow covers their feed, they are bound for Idaho or Eastern Montana.
Wish I was allowed to hunt on Christmas morning, but there are a few rules that Mrs. Fin has no variance on. Hunting on Christmas being one of those rules set in stone.
Too damn much CPA work needing to be done in the next week, so I doubt we will get back out until after New Year. Hopefully a few birds will still be around by then.
Ducks, dogs, family, friends, and Christmas Eve. I often get asked how I can tolerate the winters in Montana. Days like this make it pretty easy.
Six hunters total, split into three different blinds. Matthew and I hunkered down in one blind, trying to stay warm in the wind and cold. As soon as daylight came a few volleys were fired upstream from us. It started snowing greenheads. Probably the thickest mass of mallards I have ever seen. A stiff 25mph wind made them want to get down, regardless of how few decoys or where/how they were placed.
Was about fifteen minutes after shooting light before any ducks made it down to us. The first group to get to us had to be well over 100 birds, with almost all of them having green heads and orange legs. Matthew called the shot. We stood and laid six shots in to the mass of thrashing wings, watching ducks smash into each other as they climbed upon seeing us rise from the blind.
Pick one and shoot, pick one and shoot, pick one and shoot. The first shot being all of twenty yards. The following shots being about the same, as the clamoring of frantic ducks interfered with the escape efforts of the entire squadron.
When the feathers drifted past us, Matthew and I took inventory. Seven mallards were laying on the water. Wow. Never have I seen seven ducks taken from one salute by two shooters. All we needed was one more big group like that, and if our shooting continued with that lethality, we would be limited out.
Not surprising, as daylight grew, the big groups busted up, leaving us those vulnerable kamikazes of singles and pairs, all hovering in the wind, trying to sort out which pocket of our small fifteen-decoy spread would be the best resting spot, giving ample time to stand, draw the bead, and fire before they could rise and flare downwind.
The other guys were firing with greater frequency than us. They were done before we were. Took Matthew and I another half hour to get the next seven mallards. Never once needing to raise a call to my mouth.
All in all, six guys took their seven-mallard limit in less than an hour. So much fun, yet so short is the euphoria when they come in like this.
I hope the snow subsides, as we are on the brink of having too much snow for ducks to stay around much longer. Cold is fine, but if the snow covers their feed, they are bound for Idaho or Eastern Montana.
Wish I was allowed to hunt on Christmas morning, but there are a few rules that Mrs. Fin has no variance on. Hunting on Christmas being one of those rules set in stone.
Too damn much CPA work needing to be done in the next week, so I doubt we will get back out until after New Year. Hopefully a few birds will still be around by then.
Ducks, dogs, family, friends, and Christmas Eve. I often get asked how I can tolerate the winters in Montana. Days like this make it pretty easy.
Great to hang with your son.
