Originally Posted by
Pioneerfreq
Another member asked for some waterfowl stories so here is one of mine.
Runner of the Woods
There are times when my wife's arthritis is acting up and her knees complain very loudly about any significant walking. This particular year we had been having some pretty good success at Long Marsh but it’s five kilometers round trip. This was one of those times that her knees needed a break and I was itching to do something.
I got everything ready for the walk to Long Marsh and my wife wished me good luck. I promised her I’d text her once per hour to let her know I was safe. Off the dog and I went, adopting a brisk stride as it was already late afternoon and the weather was reasonably cool so overheating wasn’t really an issue. A quick glass of ponds I passed along the way didn’t show any ducks. Having said that, the plan was to get to Long Marsh so I didn’t glass very thoroughly.
Thirty minutes or so later I was approaching my destination. Just before getting there, you come to an area of flooded timber that will occasionally hold woodies. While still out of sight of this spot, I put on my camo mask, gloves and hearing protection. “Sit”. “Stay”. I said to the dog and began to move very slowly along the trail towards the flooded spot. As my eyes cleared the low ridge that would allow me to see the flooded timber, I froze, surprised at what I saw.
This particular year was an excellent mast crop. There seemed to be acorns everywhere in the woods. A twenty foot section of the trail had a few inches of water over it. Right next to the trail is a large oak tree. There, right in the middle of the trail were five wood ducks swimming around, eating acorns. Yep, right in the middle of the trail out of what I would consider an ethical shooting range. The problem here was that the area was completely open. There was no way to sneak up on them from where I was. Eventually I realized there was very little I could do except try to walk excruciatingly slowly towards them and hope they would think I was a tree.
Trying not to separate my legs, I slowly started my approach. From behind me, I heard jingle, jingle. The next thing I know, the dog is walking past me and all hell breaks loose. The ducks see him, give the weeet weeet weeet alarm call and instantly they fly off. The dog takes off after them and I am left standing there trying to look like a tree. My fault for not attaching his leash to a tree. That’s the way it goes sometimes. I say that now but at the time, I was a little agitated to say the least.
On we went, the dogs leash tightly in hand, towards the west end of Long Marsh. This time, before sneaking in to have a look, I make sure the dog is securely fastened to a nearby tree out of site of the pond. After patting him on the head, I start my approach to see if there are any ducks in the vicinity. Looking carefully, at first I think there are none. Then I see some ripples on my side east of where I am. Cutting back away from the shoreline, I make a “U” shape and come back out towards the edge east of where I was. There are three wood ducks and they have been swimming along the edge. They were moving faster than I was so once again, I cut back away from the edge and this time I make a bigger “U”.
As I’m making my approach, I think they have seen me. The distance seems to be ok so I line up and take a shot at the big lead male. The other two fly off and the one I shot at completely disappears. This is something I’ve seen before so I rush to the edge of the pond. Well out of range, I finally see the woody surface not able to fly but certainly able to swim. He is halfway across the narrow marsh, headed for a beaver lodge next to a bay. Once again, I’m agitated, this is my fault.
Mentally, I take a picture of where he is headed and rush back to where the dog is tied up. The beaver dam at the west end is just a short distance away so the dog and I head across it towards the far shore. About half way across, a beautiful male wood duck flies up from behind the dam and is gone in an instant. There’s that feeling of agitation again. None the less, I have to focus on getting to where I saw the wounded woody headed. Within two or three minutes, we are close so I cut the dog loose and say “find the bird”. He is off like a shot and is quickly far enough ahead that I can’t see where he is. Soon I reach the beaver lodge next to the little bay filled with grasses and the dog is nowhere to be seen. Nor can I hear the jingle of his tags.
Feeling the agitation again, I decide to check the grasses along the edge of the little bay assuming the duck would have gone in there to hide. After a couple minutes, I can’t find where the duck is hidden in the grass and think “ok, I’ve got to call the dog back because I need his help here”. Loudly and clearly, I call him back several times. From way off in the woods, I hear his tags and I’m thinking “what the heck is he doing?” The sound of his tags finally starts to get closer and when he comes into view, I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
Running towards me looking very proud, he has the duck in his mouth. The agitation is melting away and I’m laughing at the situation. That duck must have made it across the marsh, got up on shore and took off running into the woods. Where I wanted to look was due to my own stupid assumptions. The dog knew better and simply followed the evidence fed to him by his nose. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the little zippered bag I keep his treats in and gave him the usual and an extra. He sure deserved it and he didn’t even have to get into the cold water to retrieve this one. I guess he made up for busting the ducks on the trail earlier. Ah dogs!
