AWSome

“No, it’s not an anything-Doodle.”  That is my thought when someone asks me if my puppy is a Labradoodle, Goldendoodle, or some other modern high-priced mutt.  I’m less offended when asked if he is a Cocker Spaniel.  At least English Cocker Spaniels can be field-bred as hunters.  I usually respond, “No, he’s an American Water Spaniel.”

A year and a half ago I had never heard of an American Water Spaniel, or AWS for short.  I read a short paragraph in my Ducks Unlimted magazine about AWS’ being great retrievers and upland dogs.  I didn’t realize they are the state dog of Wisconsin.  As a history buff and a lifelong Wisconsin resident I’m embarrassed I didn’t know that.  Who knew such a designation existed?  What I didn’t know at that time was that the breed largely originated in Wisconsin and specifically in the Fox and Wolf River Valley areas.  They’re one of the few sporting dog breeds that were entirely developed in the United States.

The breed began in the mid 1800’s and was bred from a mix of different breeds to handle a variety of tasks.  Many dog breeds were developed by European nobility, but the AWS was a blue-collar dog from the start.  The breeders of the day were farmers, market hunters and other early settlers to the area.  AWS’ were often pack-bred in their early days by these breeders.  Although this would be unacceptable by today’s standards, this practice is believed to be a significant contributing factor to the relatively few genetic disorders that afflict AWS’.  AWS’ are believed to have links to breeds such as the now-extinct English Water Spaniel, Irish Water Spaniel, Curly-Coated Retriever, Sussex or Field Spaniel, possible Native American dogs, Chesapeake Bay Retriever, and Poodle.  Some people believe AWS’ are the parent breed for Boykin Spaniels, but a lot of Boykin aficionados will dispute this. 

AWS’ were often the chosen hunting partner of market hunters from the era.  With a breed standard size of 25-45 pounds AWS’ were perfect for hunting from a small skiff and sneaking up on rafts of ducks.  Their double waterproof coat protected it from the cold water of the upper Midwest and they were bred to have motors capable of fetching a hundred ducks in a day.  Some early accounts indicate that AWS’ were also responsible to guard the market hunters equipment while the hunters were away.  Since many early AWS owners were not wealthy, the dogs were also expected to flush upland game, and even chase down the occasional muskrat scurrying along thin ice.  Upper Midwest inhabitants couldn’t afford to waste a chance at any income or food source.

                                                                                                                                                         

As a rare breed, there isn’t a distinct split in genetic lines between show-bred and field-bred dogs.  This has allowed the hunting instincts to remain prevalent throughout the breed.  Many dogs that compete in the show ring will often have advanced hunting titles.  For example the winner of “Best of Breed” at the prestigious Westminster Kennel Club’s 2016 show holds an AKC Senior Hunter title.  Few of the other sporting breed winners contained such titles.

Duck and upland hunters would be remiss not to consider an AWS as their next dog.  They can require a firm, but fair hand in training.  They will become bored and stop working when they tire of rote drills.  They are also known as a smart breed, and as is the case with my dog, he learns especially fast if a piece of hot dog is involved.   AWS’ are known for having a mischievous side, as they like to attempt to assert their domination over the household.  Although they may not be suitable for everyone, they are worthy of consideration as a family member and hunting buddy. 

At Meskousing Boats, we ask questions and aren’t afraid to come to conclusions that are different from prevailing thought.  That is why you’ll be seeing a lot more of Aldo in our boats.  He was too young to hunt this past season, but we are progressing on his foundational skills and obedience.  If his trainer (me) learns as fast as he does, Aldo will be ready for next season.  You’ll be seeing more of him on Facebook and we plan on updating the pictures on our website, too.

Book Review: The Gordon MacQuarrie Sporting Treasury

In a first for this blog, I'm going to submit a book review.  Truth be told, this will be the first time I'm doing a "book report" since I was in high school.  Not sure which book that would have been, but I'm sure it had a lot of pictures.  I recently completed The Gordon MacQuarrie Sporting Treasury.   A co-worker of mine loaned it to me after a recent conversation about good books.  I had never heard of Gordon MacQuarrie.

MacQuarrie was an outdoor writer for the Milwaukee Journal in the 1940's and 50's.  Prior to that he was an outdoor editor in Superior, WI.  In this book, he mostly writes about two things:  duck hunting and trout fishing in northern Wisconsin.  Many of his trout fishing stories take place on the River of Presidents- the Brule River.  MacQuarrie is credited with being one, if not the first, full-time outdoor writers in the country.  Unfortunately, he died in 1956 at age 56.

MacQuarrie's partner in his exploits is his father-in-law, who is referred to as Mr. President, or some form thereof.  Mr. President is the head of the Old Duck Hunters Association, Inc.  As MacQuarrie explains, Inc stands for incorrigible.  Mr. President frequently leads MacQuarrie on trips on the Brule and first exposes him to duck hunting.  Mr. President took MacQuarrie on his first duck hunt on one of the last days of the season in frigid weather, but great hunting.  Mr. President told MacQuarrie that he had waited to take MacQuarrie duck hunting because, "Too much of a good thing is bad for a growing boy."

MacQuarrie's descriptions of his duck hunts are vivid and paint images that we have all dreamed of and occasionally experience.  The stories are over 60-years old, but they are told in a manner that make them timeless.  He describes canvasbacks dropping into decoys in a snow squall.   The descriptions of the wooden decoys and putting on his Mackinaw field jacket takes you on an old-time hunt.  His hunts are all from long before people conceived of posting their hunts on Facebook or texting bragging pics to friends.  No, he hunted in a time when hunting was serious, uninterrupted by modern distractions of technology, and live decoys were legal.

In doing some research, I learned where some of his haunts were.  In his stories, he's always vague about where he actually hunted.  The places have names, but I'm sure they are self-applied locations.  Unfortunately, these places are no longer the honey holes MacQuarrie experienced.  He wouldn't even recognize his Hole in the Wall blind.  Where MacQuarrie was hunting stands of wild rice and wild celery grew to attract mallards and canvasbacks, today there are large homes and developments that have denigrated the water resource and made it unsuitable for those plants.  In turn, the ducks don't visit the same either.  This is, of course, the worst thing that can happen to a honey hole.

It is winter and many of the states' duck seasons are closed.  Reading some Gordon MacQuarrie hunting and fishing stories will be just the elixir you'll need to get you to another duck season.  Maybe next year I'll have my own "The Bluebills Died at Dawn" story.

Happy New Year!

Bonus Hunt

Time flies!  I'm not sure what happened to the Wisconsin waterfowl season.  It seems like a few weeks ago I was on a self-imposed "No fun stuff" stint.  Prior to waterfowl season I swore off doing anything that could be too much fun, so I could get house projects and adult responsibilities out of the way before the fall harvest season.  A few duck hunts, a trip to NoDak, tossing out some steel, and suddenly the waterfowl season is in the rear view mirror.

About three weeks ago winter arrived in northern Wisconsin.  I had hopes of getting in one last duck hunt with a 10-year old.  We checked every spring pond and stretch of flowing water in hopes of finding a few late migrating ducks.  No luck.  Everything was locked tight.  So, I begrudgingly put my gear away to get to the snow blower and began thinking about next season.  To say I was disheartened to put my stuff away with over three weeks to go in a 60 day season would be an understatement.

Then, I got invited by my friend, Eric, to go duck hunting on Green Bay.  He had been having some success on divers and was kind enough to recognize an addict suffering from withdrawal.  We left for Marinette about sunrise, which included about a 1.5 hour drive.  It was about 3-below zero when we left, so we had some concerns about the Bay being froze tight.  We arrived and realized our concerns were real.  There was a slight wind blowing out and we could see the ice was breaking up.  There was enough open water near shore for us to give it a try.  As we got ready we discussed how foolish duck hunting is.  Who goes and sits in the wind, gets their hands wet, stands in water, and lays in the snow when the air temperature is below zero?  Duck hunters, that's who.  We both agreed that we take pride in hunting when everybody else is sitting at home.  Needless to say, we had our choice of spots.

We didn't get a limit in almost a full day of hunting, but we got to see thousands of duck flying around the Bay.  We scared some ducks and killed a few.  Zeke, the 11-month old Chesapeake Bay Retriever, made some fine retrieves.  I have never said a bad word about Zeke and won't after I watched him fetch one of my ducks that had drifted out to over 100 yards.  Zeke earned his keep and my admiration after that.  It was cold enough that we each had to take a few walks and do some calisthenics to warm up.

We hunted a second day, but called it quits after we each reached the point where we required a "warm-up walk."  After we loaded up, I felt a bit more satisfied about the season.  It was short and not as successful as I had dreamed in August, but getting to hunt in a new locale when I hadn't expected to hunt anymore made the season a lot better.  

Only 10 months until waterfowl season!

The worse thing to happen to a honey-hole

I recently ventured out a few times for one of my favorite fall activities- wild ricing.  Yes, you can find wild rice in a lot of grocery stores in northern Wisconsin, but going ricing is a good reminder that food doesn't come from a grocery store and reconnects us to the natural world.  Wild ricing is not terribly difficult.  I've threatened a number of people with taking them ricing over the years.  Some I've taken, others I haven't been able to connect with.  So often people remark that they don't know how to rice.  The biggest hurdle in ricing is finding a good spot.

 I went once with a crafty veteran ricer and we did pretty dern good.  It weighed out to 58-pounds of green rice.  As a rule, finished rice weighs about half what the green rice weighs.  I learn a lot by ricing with a seasoned vet of the rice beds.  We talk about great harvests, bad harvests, great lakes, acceptable lakes, and how peaceful it is to be out.  Often times, ricing involves being in difficult to reach areas.  Wild rice doesn't like polluted water or disturbed sediment.  This requirement rules out many lakes as suitable for rice growth.  A motorboat stirring up sediment or heavy wave action during the floating-leaf stage can ruin a bed.

I also took a novice wild ricing for the first time.  Prior to going he asked about ricing in a particular flowage that we've trapped.  I wasn't certain of the quality of the rice, so I told him I do know of a good spot that I am certain of the amount.  We walked in a half-mile from where we parked with the canoe on a hand-pulled trailer.  When we got to the landing, Travis looked out across the bed and asked, "Is that all rice?"  Yes it was.  He was immediately impressed with the amount of rice and said he has never seen so much rice before.  I put on a quick clinic on proper ricing and how the "motor" needs to time the pushes on the push-pole with the action of the knocker.

After about 15-minutes of taking turns between doing the knocking and pushing, most people enter into the advanced stages of wild ricing.  It isn't rocket science.  It helps to be a harvester and to recognize that there are only so many days the rice is ripe and will fall.  Travis fit the bill nicely.  One of the few requirements in wild ricing is that you must be tolerant of bugs.  There are lots of bugs.  Lots.  After ricing, the rice is literally alive and jumping with all of the bugs in it.  The spiders scurry around and weave webs.  Wild rice is more than an annual grass.  Its a living organism with a lot of facets.

Travis is a harvester.  He helps me teach trapper education and understands that deer antlers make thin soup.  He's got a garden, fruit trees, and makes maple syrup.  As he said when we were ricing, "I like to eat anything that mother nature provides."  Many of us harvesters like to keep our harvesting honey-holes to ourselves, whether its a good berry patch, oak stand, mink trapping spot, or a great patch of wild rice that holds a lot of ducks.  Some may question the wisdom of taking someone to a honey-hole, as I did with Travis.  How many people is he going to tell?  How many times is he going to go there without me.

The locale I took Travis can be found on a map and is known to a lot of people as a good duck hunting spot.  I've even ran into other people I didn't know that were going ricing there.  I'm not worried if Travis goes there with some other friends or family.  Heck, he's got two boys, so I hope he takes them there.  Wild rice habitat needs protecting and is a fragile resource.  The only thing worse than going to "my spot" and seeing four other boats, would be going there and finding the rice beds destroyed.

If people can place a value on natural resources, they are far more likely to find value in protecting it.

Travis may never go with me again (I hope he does) but if he takes his kids out, then that's just as good as me taking them.  It seems to be trendy to take kids out harvesting, but consider taking a novice adult out, too.

Take someone new out harvesting!

Bang for the Buck

What's a good buy or value for your money?  Are you a waterfowl fanatic?  Or, are you a person that gets out a few times and maybe takes some vacation to hunt away from home?  When purchasing equipment it can be easy to think, 'I only hunt a few times per year, so I'll buy the cheaper version.'

It can be tempting to buy less expensive gear for waterfowl hunting.  If most of your hunting occurs on a week long trip away from home it can be easy to fall into the trap that a quality hunting jacket is not a necessity.  That is, until you only hunt the first hour in the morning of a major fall flight because you're soaked to the bone.  The rest of the time you sit in the truck shivering and trying to get dry while your partners knock down greenheads.  The next time that happens, ask yourself, 'Am I getting my money's worth now?'

Do you look at spending money on a professional trainer for your dog as an unnecessary expense?  Do you think, 'I can train the dog well enough myself.'  However, on hunts you call the dog names you wouldn't say in mixed company.  If you spend almost a $1000 on a puppy, hundreds of dollars on vet bills and food annually, and the dog lives for 12 years, then maybe its worth dropping a few hundred bills on a well-trained dog.  After 12 years, a few months of professional training will be a small expense compared to the other dog expenses like food and vet bills.

Is it worth hunting with a less expensive shotgun?  If you're on vacation and your shotgun jams on a pintail with a full sprig, will you wish you had splurged five years ago for a better swamp cannon?  Do you dream of going hunting with your children and their children?  If that's the case, be sure to outfit your kids, when they're young, with quality gear.  It is difficult to convince a 12-year old hunting is fun in 35-degree rain when a jacket and hat aren't rainproof.  If you want them to hunt when they're 40 and you're in your 70's, be sure they're having fun at 12.

What seems like a good buy in the short term can be costly in the long term.  When making a hunting equipment purchasing decision weigh a lot of factors.  Will I hunt more frequently?  Will the hunt be more enjoyable?  Will I be more successful (however you gauge that?)  Is the equipment a long-term value?

Take all of this into consideration when making purchasing gear decisions.  If you spend half as much money on equipment, but also hunt half as much because of its quality, then is it really a good buy?  A great purchase is when your gear causes you to want to get out and hunt and makes it more relaxing.  Check out www.MeskousingBoats.com and weigh these questions when making your next duck boat decision.

Take a kid harvesting.

Turning the Page

I'm not sure if humans detect changes in photoperiods, but it sure seems as if I can sense a change in the last week or two.  I feel as if I'm turning the page on summer and heading into fall.  Although I like fishing, it feels as if there's a pull towards getting ready for fall and the long (dare I say it?) winter.  The wood needs to be split and stacked; berries are ripening and need picking; decoys need some prep work; and wild rice beds need to be scouted.

Tonight I picked some choke cherries to use in wine.  I'm not sure why, as there are choke cherries in the freezer from two years ago.  Maybe it was that internal solar clock telling me it is time to fatten up (not that I need any help.)  More than likely it is that innate sense that hunters and gatherers have inside.  We know that when the berries are ripe its time to harvest.  We know that when the birds are flying, work can wait another day.  Come December, we'll only have the berries we harvest this time of year.  There's no chance of berry picking at Christmas.  After hunting season, there are only tales to share and plans to hatch.

Fall is approaching, so take the time to enjoy the remaining days of summer.  It's also a great time to get out and begin preparation for the fall.  Make a list of gear that needs to be replaced, augmented, and repaired.

Keeping Wildlife Wild

It's baby animal season.  There's nothing that gets people to say "Awwww," like a spotted fawn.  Little rolley-polley black footballs, otherwise known as bear cubs, are about as cute as anything in the world.  Furry little ducklings waddling across the road being led by momma will lift anybody's spirits.  As cute as baby critters are, it's important that we keep wildlife wild.

Hunters love wildlife and need wildlife.  We understand the precarious balance mother nature runs in keeping wildlife populations healthy.  We also know that mother nature needs WILDlife to maintain that balance.  Wildlife is not meant to be domesticated.  Mother nature doesn't want or need domesticated deer, bear, baby birds, etc.  

I am forever frustrated by people that think a fawn lying curled up in the grass has been abandoned by its mother.  Wildlife does not have the same needs or exhibit the same behaviors as humans.  A fawn or other baby animal is adapted to be left alone for periods of time and to survive on its own at a young age.  Mother nature can get along just fine without human interference.  

Let's call the do-gooders that pick up these "poor orphaned babies" what they are: thieves.  They are stealing this year's recruitment from the wild.  This is the same as any poacher shooting a deer.  They are stealing a baby from it's mother.  They are disrupting the natural events in nature's cycle.  

Hunters and nature lovers, we need to help spread they word that this thievery is unacceptable.

It's summer!!!  Even in northern Wisconsin. 

A nod to the past with an eye to the future

This past weekend we were at Shipwreck Adventures' demo day in Two Rivers, WI.  We met some great people and had a great opportunity to showcase Meskousing Boats' Backwater skiff.  Thank you, Greg Such.  On Sunday, Shelley and I visited the Maritime Museum in Manitowoc, WI.  What a trove of maritime information about the Great Lakes!  DO NOT miss the opportunity to tour the Cobia submarine.  To think 80-some sailors lived in that steel tube for 3+ months.

Of special interest to waterfowl hunters was a display of Wisconsin made wooden duck hunting skiffs and blocks (decoys.)  People familiar with Meskousing Boats will recognize some similarities between the Backwater and the past skiffs.  Meskousing Boats' Backwater is built upon the traditions of waterfowl hunting in Wisconsin and the Mississippi flyway.  The Backwater's design improves upon these time-tested designs, but equally important is the construction materials and processes that bring us to the modern day.

Instead of using wood, we use a high-grade fiberglass that flexes in all the right ways without sacrificing structural integrity.  We keep the weight down by eliminating excess resin.  After all, if resin was the key of a strong hull, we'd just build the boat with resin and skip the 'glass.  Our skiffs link us to preceding generations of waterfowl hunters before surface drive motors and spinning wing decoys with the advantages of modern materials.

Marsh skis and a skiff. 

Probably a good thing we don't use punt guns anymore.

Have a great spring.........  into summer!

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Spring Cleaning

Today I ventured out into the duck marsh to do some spring cleaning of the wood duck boxes I built.  There's a property owner that lets me hunt on his land and as a token of appreciation I've installed a few boxes.  One of them is in front of his house, which he seems to enjoy.

The marsh is a flowage, but there was still ice.  Northern Wisconsin has been in a deep freeze since about Halloween and we are starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  At least the walk in was mostly devoid of snow.  The dogs got some running on grass and also got to roll around in the last snow of the year.  There was enough ice for me to stand on at the first box.  There were a few feathers from a woodie inside.

Due to some open water, I had to take the scenic route to the second box.  This also had some duck feathers.  Two for two!  The geese nearby kept honking at us trying to keep us from their claim.  A few mallards even flushed.  The sandhill cranes sang an ancient chorus.  Ah, spring is here.  It may not always feel like spring, but it sounded like spring today.

I felt a bit lazy and tried to take a shortcut back to the truck.  I'm fairly convinced Olive is a very simple and a bit on the slow side, but she was the smarter of the two of us today.  While I worked on the wood duck box, she stayed safely on shore watching the birds.  When I called her, she begrudgingly followed my beckon.  About 15 feet from the wood duck box, the ice gave way.  I'm not sure if the water is chest deep or if my elbows caught the ice.  I got out quickly only to break through a second time.  This time I remembered about the importance of rolling or climbing across the ice.  It worked.

Once on shore, I emptied my hip boots and began the walk back to the truck.  The air temperature was warm enough that I wasn't worried about hypothermia and even stayed fairly warm.  Lesson learned.  When the swimming-fool chocolate Lab won't go on the ice, don't go.

DU Banquet

Thank you, Ducks Unlimited!!

Last night I had the privilege of attending the Langlade County Chapter of Ducks Unlimited annual banquet.  It was held in new digs, at the Edison Club.  I don't know the specific numbers, but there were more people in attendance this year than past years and DU raised a lot of money for wetland protection.  It also seemed as though the people in attendance were very generous in their purchases and raffle participation.

Meskousing Boats is very pleased to have been a Sponsor.  The money raised for being a sponsor equals the same amount as it takes to save an acre of wetland.  Money well spent.  We were also lucky and won a beautiful print of a pair of pintails in a silent auction.

We are all busy with life and can't fit in anything extra.  Thank you DU volunteers for finding the time to help in such a valuable way.

What is success on a hunt?

I recently got out for a ruffed grouse hunt with Olive.  I never mounted my shotgun towards a bird, but still had a successful hunt.  From my perspective, it seems as though there is a lot of focus in hunting circles on shooting limits and trophies.  For me, it's about the experience.  I seldom get a limit and in northern Wisconsin a lot of the waterfowl aren't in their prime plumage during our seasons.  If we, as hunters, only use trophies and limits as our measuring stick for success, then we will be disappointed on a lot of other great hunts.

Many of my hunts include optimistic goals.  For example, on our recent hunt I really wanted to shoot a grouse so Olive could get a retrieve.  However, soaking in a finer point of the experience is what really makes it successful.  We had snow the previous day and the trees all had a coating of snow.  I was blazing a trail with my snowshoes, which always makes me feel like I'm a rugged individualist.

The highlight of my hunt was in the "game" I took home.  I was hunting on a state wildlife area and Olive pointed a folding camp chair.  It wasn't much of a point, but she sniffed it long enough to draw my attention.  The chair appeared to be in good shape and even had a carrying bag left with it.  The snow is at least 16 inches deep and there were no indications that someone was coming back to get it.  I don't know if anyone was planning on getting it, but I also hate litter.  So, I brought it home and can't wait for camping season.  There might not be any meat in the freezer from my hunt, but there is some new furniture in the garage.

The hunt was also successful because we were out for over two hours.  We covered some ground I hadn't seen for a while.  I like going to familiar places throughout the year so I can compare game tracks, trails, water levels, etc. during the various seasons.  One of the bigger reasons I like grouse hunting with Olive is that it tires her out.  Another simple pleasure is the tranquility of a tired puppy in front of the fireplace.

Use it or Lose it

"It's like riding a bike.  You never forget how to do it." 

I don't completely agree with the above maxim.  Although the basic aspect of a skill can be retained, the finer points can be lost.  All skills are perishable and if they aren't refreshed, refined, and honed skills begin to deteriorate.  This applies to people and dogs.  I know this from personal experience relating to my skills and my dogs' skills.  Winter is an easy time for us in the northern climes to hibernate, watch football, read about hunting, and browse hunting catalogs.  Getting out and polishing our otherwise deteriorating skills can help break the winter blahs.  

Last week I renewed a friendship with a friend and got out for a pheasant hunt on a game farm.  I am not a fan of canned hunts or put-and-take hunting (the reasons are for a future blog) but I view this as more of a training event.  We are both avid hunters and Paul has two Griffins that are well trained, as he belongs to a local dog training club.  I left Drake and Olive home because they are flushers and Paul's dogs are pointers.  I didn't want my less-than well-trained dogs messing up his dogs' good time.

Our reason for going out on a day when temperatures barely reached above 0-degrees Fahrenheit was to renew a friendship and work his dogs.  Most hunting seasons are over and to keep a dog sharp, it's important to get them out on birds.  There's only so much that can be learned and practiced in a park or yard with a dummy wrapped with a bird wing.  At some point, the dogs need a live bird to flush, get shot, and fetch it back to hand.  Any dog worth taking out of the kennel will get excited with a live bird and will behave differently than when they are under a controlled environment.  I am not a dog trainer, not by a long shot, but I do appreciate a well-trained dog.  It was fun seeing Paul handle his dogs and how they quartered a field.

The second skill to be honed on that day was Paul's and my shooting skills.  Pheasants are not the fastest quarry, proper mounting of the shotgun, target acquisition, lead, swing-through, and game marking are still necessary.  Proper leading proved to be an especially perishable skill for us.  The first pheasant, despite being pointed by the dogs, escaped with a couple of warning shots sent in its direction.  We eventually located the bird and put it in the game carrier, but it was a reminder of how proper skills need to be practiced.

Buying pheasants and hunting on a game farm isn't the cheapest way to harvest a few birds, but the investment can pay off when the sun is breaking in the marsh and the first flight of teal come whistling into the decoys.  Practicing can be expensive, but it pays off when it counts.  I'm not the best shooter in the marsh, but with more time and practice I hope to be a consistent shooter.

The dogs were too bushed to pose for a proper picture.

New Year's Eve duck hunting

What's a duck hunter to do on New Year's Eve?  If you hunt in a state where duck hunting is open, that's an easy answer.  What if you live in northern Wisconsin and the temperature never got above 0?

For me the answer was fairly simple.  Strap on some snowshoes, bundle up with some good long-johns, grab some loved ones (dogs, too) and head out to do some waterfowl and trapping scouting.  I'm most successful when I duck hunt if I do a lot of scouting and have as many honey holes as possible.  When the season is open I like to have as many places to hunt as I can.  Finding these spots is best done outside of the season.  I also like to keep a list of places to hunt, so when the season is open I don't rely on my fading memory.

Sure, the ducks are gone, but a basic knowledge about waterfowl habitat can still yield locales for future hunts.  Cattails, wild rice, shallow pools, and other areas that frequented by our feathered friends can still be found during the hardwater season.  Snowshoeing on the ice and frozen marshes can be a quick and relatively easy way to locate out-of-the-way duck holes.

As the snow gets deeper the snowshoeing gets better, especially for dogs.  Not that the dogs can traverse the snow easier, but it tires them out faster and results in a quieter house in the evening.  If our young dog doesn't get at least 45 minutes of exercise per day she is restless in the evening and makes sleeping through the night almost impossible.  By taking her snowshoeing in deep snow, we can sometimes burn off enough of her energy to get two days reprieve from her puppy energy.  A tired dog appreciates one of the finer things in life- a cold winter day with a warm evening by the fireplace.

I may have found a new duck hunting spots.

The deeper the snow, the more tired the puppy.

Happy New Year and Meskousing Boats looks forward to being a part of your best year!

Sunset

It is with mixed emotions that I am coming to grip with the idea the duck hunting in northern Wisconsin is coming to a close.  It’s hard to believe that duck season opened 60 days ago.  The season started with balmy temperatures and bluebird skies.  As the season progressed, it included breaking ice to get to a honey hole that never quite lived-up to its billing.  There were limiting-out days and days of getting skunked.  

As northern Wisconsin’s season closes, some states are just starting to open their seasons.  I’m jealous that our southern brethren get to hunt “our ducks” after they’ve come into their breeding plumage.  In September we shoot wood ducks, teal, and brown mallards.  About the time the drake mallards develop their full breeding plumage of effervescent green heads, they head south for warmer climes. 

Do southern duck hunters get jealous when they hear of September and early October opening days?  On one hand we’ve had two months of hunting while the southern hunters have been champing at the bit to get out.  We’ll be putting away decoys, organizing gear, and cleaning shotguns for storage while the waterfowlers in the south will be scouting their early season spots and planning late-season hunts. 

‘Round these parts some of the best duck hunting occurs as the lakes and potholes freeze.  Depending on the weather, freeze-up can come before season ends or after the season closes.  Generally, the best migration occurs after many of the lakes and waters have frozen.  As ducks ride fronts south, they will look for any open water and if you have a spot with some water, you’ll often have ducks.  If the waters freeze later, then some of the best hunting comes after close.  This causes many hunters to spend their offseason bemoaning the wildlife biologists that weren’t able to predict freeze-up three months ahead of time. 

As the sun sets on waterfowl season 2013, I can’t help but think of how badly I need to win the lottery.  Then, I’d be able to duck hunt every day of the season and travel to the southern states to hunt their seasons, too.  Instead, I’m lamenting on the locations I wanted to hunt but didn't get to, which were surely holding piles of poultry and the locations I hunted that weren’t as productive as planned.  I’m also starting to think of waterfowl season 2014, the gear I need, and the locations I want to hunt.

Keep checking back, as the season passes I will be reminiscing and rehashing the season’s hunts.  Also, duck hunters aren’t duck hunters for only 60 days per year.  We continually plan, scout, prepare gear, and advocate for the resource and sport year round.  

The sun sets on my 2013 waterfowl season.

Nooks and Crannies

As I've returned from North Dakota, I've begun reminiscing about the great times and flocks of birds.  It's also natural to think about what worked and what didn't work.  Whether that be location, calls, tactics, decoy spreads, or the best duck recipe.  I made a short post on Facebook about an "epic" hunt I had in my Backwater.  Now that I have some time, I'll detail what made it so epic. 

There is a river that meanders through a wide valley.  Ron, who owns the house, said "Nobody has ever paddled that river."  The temptation to be a pioneer, of sorts, was too great.  I could claim and name new lands, or at least name spots.  We already have the buffalo skull and I was looking forward to naming some others.  From aerial images, I could tell there would be a lot of sloughs, oxbows, and other waterfowl enticing habitat.  The big question was whether the river channel is choked out by cattails.  Without a solid answer, I figured I'd still give a try. 

My friends dropped me off with my Backwater and my chubby buddy, Drake.  Within five minutes we came into a small pocket of what seemed like a dozen ducks.  I dropped a redhead easily and christened the first spot "Redhead Hole."  I'm a redhead, so it seems fitting, too.  The diver duck was much slower and an easier target than the puddle ducks in the tall cattails.  A few minutes later a few mallards came whipping down the river channel.  I think these were ducks I had just flushed, but they were returning.  I had to shoot a hen mallard in self defense for fear it would strafe me.  I had to be judicious in my shots because Drake is an old dog and doesn't do cattails well and I didn't want to lose birds there.  Drake was mostly along for a joyride.

I was feeling very confident and intelligent because I was being rewarded for my adventuring.  I picked up a blue-winged teal in another spot, too.  One slough seemed to be filled with ducks, even though I didn't bag one.  Some Canada geese were a bend away and took off at the sound of my shots.  The sight and sound of 200 geese taking off in the marsh is an experience, even if no shots were afforded.  It was a beautiful bluebird day and about 55-degrees.  Everything seemed perfect.

Then my fears happened.  I lost the channel.  I paddled in several directions and checked every possible cranny looking for some type of opening.  No dice.  I could see some current going through the cattails.  I was along one bank and started dragging my boat through the cattails in a diagonal fashion to try and intersect any possible channel.  I came into a few muskrat eat-outs, but still no channel.  Drake tried getting out of the boat and wading along, but the vegetation was too thick for the old dog, so I was forced to pull my 52-pound boat and an 85-pound hound through the cattails. 

I eventually found the channel and life was good again.  Ducks seemingly flushed around every corner.  I'd hate to guess how many times I came around a bend and saw ducks sitting on cattail mats or muskrat feed beds.  Their eyes seemed to get as big as quarters before they flushed.  I had already shot a hen mallard and didn't want to bag another one, if I could help it, so I held off on a lot of shots.  Not all of the drakes had lost their eclipse plumage and I'm not great at identifying ducks on the wing. 

After about another hour of paddling, the channel was choked out again.  This time, I paddled back to an abandoned farm, ditched the boat and began hoofing out through a hayfield to the designated meeting point.  My friends met me in the field and knew it's never good when a person starts a boat trip, but finishes on a hiking trip.  We went back and got the boat and loaded it up.

There are several lessons to be had.  Being first can be good, unless there's a reason nobody else has done it.  However, going places after ducks that aren't pressured has it's rewards and therein lies a balance.  When trying to hunt pressured ducks, try to think of locations that others haven't thought of or aren't willing to go to.  When the weather is considered less than ideal duck hunting weather, the ducks don't disappear, so it may be necessary to go find them.  A boat and it's cargo (Drake) should be as light as possible when dragging it through cattails. 

Good luck this fall!

View from the Sidelines

Last week the dogs and I, along with some friends, traveled to North Dakota for a week of duck hunting.  Much was learned, more shared, and memories made while in the prairie pothole region.  Last year was my first trip to NoDak, which opened my eyes to an area I had previously held as "fly-over" territory.  By the way, I use NoDak to make it appear as though I'm part of the "cool crowd."

I will have other posts about my experiences in the future, but for now I want to reminisce and pay homage to my duck hunting partner of the last few years- Drake.  Drake is not my dog.  He came with the girlfriend and was already trained and knowledgeable on early morning hunts when we met.  He's the yellow Labrador retriever featured in many of our pictures, website, and brochure.  Drake has the drive to hunt like few other dogs.  Normally he's an easy-going well-mannered table food-begging puppy, but when there's fowl in the air he has a laser focus.

I'm not a great shot by any measure and remember one of my first hunts with my Chubby Buddy.  He was seated behind me when I fanned on a few ducks.  I had that feeling that someone was staring at me.  I turned around and saw Drake was staring holes into me, as if to say 'Your job is to shoot the ducks so I can fetch them.  You're not living up to your end of the deal, pal.'  In ensuing hunts, I've been able to knock down a few ducks to whet Drake's thirst for fetching. 

Drake LIVES for fetching birds.  Watching him bring back a bird in his mouth is the epitome of happiness.  Prior to Chubby, I never had a hunting dog.  After seeing him bring back birds, I am convinced a Lab doesn't get to achieve true happiness unless fetching a bird.  Drake enjoys bacon, grilled chicken, belly rubs, down comforters, fireplaces, and fetching sticks, but he'd give it all up to go duck hunting. 

Last year in North Dakota, Drake made about 40 fetches in five days of hunting.  He eagerly ran and swam in the cold water for every retrieve.  He went out and got diver ducks in whitecaps, dabblers in Dakota muck, and flushed a crippled mallard from the cattails.  One retrieve I hope I never forget was on a crippled diver.  As Drake got closer, the diver dove under the water.  It would come up a little ways away from Drake.  Drake again swam to the duck until the duck dove under again.  This repeated a few times with Drake closing the gap a little bit each time.  Drake got about a foot away when the duck dove one last time.  Drake stuck his head under and came up with the duck.  He grabbed the duck with his head under water!  That's drive and can't be trained!  The duck was still crippled while in his mouth.  Normally, a handler would not want the dog biting the duck, as this would possibly ruin the meat, but I watched Drake make a slight crunch on the duck and killed it.  When cleaned, there was no damage to the meat.  Again, this can't be trained.

While planning for this year's trip to North Dakota, discussions were had about which dogs to bring.  Drake is 12-years old and can't hunt like he did even a year ago.  There were two puppies that needed a chance to prove themselves and get some experience.  We also added an extra hunter to fit into the truck, too.  It was determined that Chubby had earned a spot in this year's trip because of last year's efforts.  He watched me get packed up by putting in camo gear and a shotgun, so he knew I was going somewhere he wanted to go.  He was beaming when I helped him into my truck for the trip.

I didn't hunt Drake every day and he only saw limited action when I did hunt him.  Letting him sit in cold water for hours on end and trudging through mucky cattails would be too hard on him.  We didn't dare leave him in the house alone while we were hunting, so we left him in the truck while we took the puppies.  I'm not sure who was more broken hearted when I closed the topper- me or Drake.  He wanted to go so bad each time, but felt it necessary to protect him from himself.  There comes a time when we all have to watch from the sidelines.

When we got back to the truck, we'd let him out and he'd be happy to see everybody and sniff the birds we got.  He didn't seem to hold a grudge or be angry.  Drake was happy to see us and happy for us that we got a few ducks.  He reminded me of a grandpa going deer hunting.  Grandpa might not have gone deer hunting, but he was the one at the truck making sure the grand kids were warm and had hot cocoa.  If he felt up to it, he'd maybe go for a short walk just to see if he could drive a deer past someone.  Grandpa may or may not have bought a license, but he most certainly did not sight in his rifle as there was no chance he was going to shoot a deer.  That was Drake on this duck hunt.

I did some jump shooting with Drake when I knew there wouldn't be much walking and took him to sit in the blind for a one hour hunt.  He made a few retrieves with the same zeal as he always has.  When he was bringing back those ducks, he looked like a lean hunting machine in his prime.  At night he slept like the ol' dog he is.

Take a kid and a retriever hunting.  You'll never regret either experience.

Pass It On

I hate to admit it, but this weekend was the first time I took a kid hunting this year.  It was also my first opportunity, but it seems like the kind of thing I should have done a few times already.  I had the enjoyment of taking a nine-year old boy into the marsh.  The expectations and priorities change when you take a kid hunting.  Cole is an avid hunter and trapper and jumps at the opportunity to go hunting or trapping.  The rise and shine time doesn't affect his enthusiasm. 

He was five the first time I ever took him hunting.  I was a bit apprehensive about getting a kid out of bed at 5AM to go sit in the marsh.  My alarm went off and I muttered a few expletives about how I wish I golfed.  As I began to stumble up the steps, Cole greeted me in his tighty-whities with a big smile and said he was ready to go.  He had heard my alarm and got up on his own.  He normally won't wake up when the dogs are barking at the top of their throats, but he heard the alarm for hunting!

When I go hunting with friends or by myself I hunt fairly hard.  With a kid, the priorities change.  It's important to try and pass on the hunting and conservation ethic to a younger generation.  Preparation changes quite a bit, too.  First and foremost, it's all about the snack pack.  Some sunflower seeds, granola bars, Reeses Pieces, cookies, and a note from Mom does a lot to keep the hunt enjoyable for all. 

Cole can't hunt in Wisconsin until he turns 10, so finding things to keep him interested and entertained are important.  A woodduck call can provide a lot of entertainment for all (when done in moderation), begin his duck calling skills, and with a little luck a wayward duck may bring itself into range out of coincidence.  Of course, should this happen, I'm sure to agree that he called it in.  This year I purchased a jerk rig.  This was also a great way to keep Cole involved in the hunt.  It also freed up my hands for calling and shooting. 

This morning the ducks weren't very friendly and didn't pay us many visits, so there were some long lulls.  After patiently staring at the decoys for a few hours, Cole decided that he needed to build a fort.  We hadn't hunted this spot before and I probably won't hunt it again so there's no need for a fort or blind, but figured we'd be OK with all of this movement.  There was a bit of cover from some tag alders and a tall tamarack, so I wasn't concerned that his movement would spook any ducks that did come near.  He had fun doing it and that's what it's all about. 

I've also learned to set the bar low for our expectations.  Cole is a harvester and likes seeing ducks fall out of the sky, but I set our goal for seeing a duck.  We saw several ducks and geese.  I was lucky enough to shoot a single goose.  Cole was ecstatic because this was the first goose he ever saw shot.  Also, on cue, two minutes after the close of hunting hours about two dozen geese wanted to land where we were set up.  Cole encouraged me to shoot.  This spawned a conversation about laws and ethics.

I've also found it beneficial to talk about the non-game species we see and discuss them.  We had an eagle fly through our spread and watched belted kingfishers dive into the water.  Talking about the non-game species and even other "sidebar" events like sunsets and sunrises help to keep the interest.  It also points out some of the other reasons a person rises at O-dark-thirty to stand in waist deep water.

Taking a kid hunting is always entertaining.  It takes a hunter to make a hunter.  Someone took us out hunting for our first time. 

The X

I went hunting with Olive this morning.  We went to a new spot, which was at the confluence of two rivers.  The smaller river is laden with rice, so I had high hopes of catching ducks that were flying the larger river and going to feed in the rice.  I saw four ducks and never came close to taking the safety off of my scatter gun.  After killing mosquitoes for almost 2 hours, I decided a change in tactics was necessary.  So, we pulled up the dekes, and paddled through the rice for some jump shooting.

Olive let me knew when the ducks were close.  The breeze was blowing in her face and she got antsy smelling the ducks.  A pair of ducks got up and I dropped a beautiful drake woodduck.  No less than 50 woodies got up from the rice in the same area.  I didn't fire another shot, though, as I knew finding one duck in the rice would be difficult.  After a few minutes of searching, I saw the duck and sent Olive on a blind retrieve.  She brought it back like she knew what she was doing.

Where I jumped the gaggle of ducks was less than 200 yards from where I had set out my decoys  in the dark.  I've never hunted this spot, but have paddled it and riced it this year.  This underscores the importance of being on the X.  When you're on the X, it can be an exciting hunt, but if you miss it by even a little bit, it can be a disappointing hunt.  Finding the X takes, experience hunting ducks, knowing your area, watching the weather, and scouting before and during the season.

It's fall up nort', so take a kid or a friend hunting!!

Nesting success!!

Woodduck box inspection

I took the dogs hunting tonight for a short hunt.  I got home from work and had to do something with the hounds, so we headed into the magical world of the duck marsh.  I never pulled up on a duck.  Some hen woodies flushed on the way in and I was loaded, but I felt like giving the local hens a break.  In turn, the rust stayed in the gun barrel.  Oh well.

 

A flock of about 50 woodies flew over the marsh and were heading south.  They looked like they were going somewhere to feed.  I'll have to do some scouting to find out where they were going.  I had Drake, the yellow lab, in the boat and that was an experience.  He's old and his breathing sounds like a freight train when he gets winded or excited.  For 45 minutes I heard the train's chugging until he finally tired and laid down.  He is almost completely deaf, but at times he must have heard me calling, so he'd stand back up, start panting, and get excited all over gain. 

 

I don't have any bragging pics to share, but on the upside I checked a woodduck box I built about a year and a half ago.  Inside there were duck feathers!  Last year I had installed it poorly (it was leaning at about a 60-degree angle) and there was a larger bird of prey feather, probably a hawk, inside the box.  Birds of prey need places to nest and contribute to the marsh's health, but I'd rather have a woodduck make a home out of the box.  I have another box that I'd like to check, but may wait until winter when the water is frozen. 

 

The boxes are installed on private land and I gave them to the landowner in appreciation for letting me hunt and trap on his land.  The landowner isn't a hunter, but he does enjoy watching wildlife.  The box I still need to check is in front of his house and was put there in hopes he would be able to watch a brood come of age in the summer.  Letting landowners know you appreciate their generosity can go a long way towards access. 

 

Take a kid hunting!

First hunts of the season

Renewing the Bond

This week I renewed my bond with the marsh.  There's something magical about watching and listening to the marsh waking up.  Those that don't hunt don't understand it.  It's a value we hunters have.  Its a connection to the natural world that we are a part of.  Being a part of the O-dark hours of morning and watching it go from black to gray to sunny is a special experience.  It starts off with dead silence and complete darkness.  As a little light starts to arrive the birds begin a few morning notes of their songs.  Woodducks let out a few "weep weep's" and the geese warm up their vocal cords.

 

I try not to add too much noise.  I try to keep my paddling silent as a I churn a few strokes from my blade and a few plunks from my decoys hitting the water. 

 

As the sun keeps coming up a few teal can be heard whistling by along with a few woodies.  A distant hen mallard lets out a few quacks to let us know she's happy and looking for friends.  The opening of hunting hours came and went without me firing a shot.  It took me a bit to get on my game and to be willing to disturb the peace.  After a few ducks whistled through my spread and  pair of geese came well within range, but for a reason unknown to me didn't even incite a flinch from me.  Sometimes I'm almost too patient when it comes to wanting a closer shot. 

 

These are the moments that make getting up way too early for a normal person worthwhile.  I shot my first ducks of the season and got to watch Olive make her first solo retrieve.  The last two seasons she has hunted with Drake, but his better days are behind him and will only see limited action this year.  Olive got a little too excited on the first shot and jumped out of the boat right away.  The enthusiasm is a good sign, but she will have to get used to hunting with me because not every shot results in a retrieve.  Drake used to stare holes in me when I shot and there wasn't anything for him to fetch.  Olive will learn.  The second opportunity for me gave Olive her first opportunity.  She brought back a beautiful woodduck.  I was very proud and loved on her after I pulled her back into the boat.

 

We also managed to jump shoot a mallard.  From my Backwater I was able to drop my paddle, pick up my shotgun, and drop the mallard with a single shot.  I didn't attempt a double because the mallards are in eclipse plumage and our bag limit in Wisconsin is a single hen mallard.  I'm an OK duck identifier when they're in my hand, but have room for improvement for duck ID on the wing.  I also got a double from my Backwater while hunting over decoys.  The boat is more than adequate for doubles- nary any movement. 

 

Enjoy the below pictures from my hunts, but please don't live vicariously through me.  Get out there yourself!!  Take a kid or a buddy hunting for the first time.

 

Olive with a duck

I felt bad.  She got some lily pad roots wrapped around her and really slowed her down.  It looked very hard.  But she slept well at night.

It's about the simple things in life- sunrises in the marsh, a skiff, shotgun, and some coffee to enjoy while soaking it all in.

Olive with our hunt's booty.