Mild weather prevailed again this morning. The rain was not present, as the weatherman had said it would be. Since this was a hunt in the middle of the week, I slept in a little while. I wasn't worried about anyone stealing all of my spots in Burbank.
On my way to my favorite blind, I noticed something unusual in the bay to my right; something that is not normally there. There was a mass on the horizon and appeared to be a boat. I flashed my headlamp at them, as duck hunters normally do to avoid setting up too close to another group. I received no "we see you" signal in return. I moved on to my spot for the day. As I set up, I watched the boat to see where it was heading. It didn't move the whole time I set up. Finally, I finished and sat down. I kept an eye on the boat and came to the conclusion that it must be a hardcore fisherman who had anchored up for the night and was sleeping; albeit in a horrible spot.
Just before 7:00, another boat showed up with a huge spotlight and seemed very interested in the other boat. As the sun rose, I watched a couple of guys exit the boat that had pulled up. They seemed to be hooking a rope to the dormant vessel. Turned out, they were. I watched as one boat pulled on the other one with everything it had. The stuck boat didn't budge. The pulling boat continued to struggle until the rope snapped, barely missing the guy in the water. The boat suddenly gained momentum without its load. Another boat showed up and went through the same process, except this effort saw two ropes snap. The fellow in the water was standing a bit too close when the ropes snapped again and he got smacked. A little while later a third boat showed up, and apparently he had more ropes. Slowly but surely, the big boat freed up and was out in the main channel of the river. By the time this folly was over, my watch read 9:30. Needless to say, there was not a whole lot of duck action until the stuck boat was freed.
By about 10:15, I had watched a raft of birds building directly in front of me. I could hear the usual coots and wigeons, but also some gadwalls and mallards. I watched the raft as it slowly worked its way upriver. I hoped it would come closer and present a shot. Then the thought occured to me; there is too much collective wisdom in that group of birds to come any closer to shore. The huge group of birds would stay in the middle of the river and remain untouchable. I had to laugh to myself, though, as I thought about the collective wisdom of the group of jackasses that were trying to get the boat unstuck earlier this morning. Instead of understanding and heeding the dangers of a snapping rope, they proceeded to endanger themselves anyway-repeatedly.
For years I have said that humans are the only creatures on earth that actively try to manipulate the "survival of the fittest" theory. We coddle our weak and dilute our strong. Today, I watched the results of these efforts unfold in front of my very eyes. The animals (who live by the survival of the fittest credo) were smart enough to collectively decide what was safe and what was not, while the humans (who think we are smart enough to alter the survival of the fittest way of life) collectively decided to endanger people's lives not once, but twice in order to retrieve and expensive material object. Now...you tell me. Who is really the smarter group? The animals or the humans? The prey or the predator? I think you know my answer. The ducks had a much, much stronger collective wisdom than the humans.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Monday, December 27, 2010
Quickie Hunt (12/27/10 Duck Hunt)
Today's hunt was surely out of the norm. Eric called me at 2:25 this afternoon and wanted to see if I was interested in a quick afternoon shoot. Always being up for something new, I said sure. After finishing up the errand I was on, I made it to the the parking spot in Burbank at 3:15. Eric was already at the water. He had five mallard drakes set out. On the way in I bumped a bufflehead hen, which Eric shot.
As I stood in the cattails with Eric, we watched several wads of ducks milling around overhead. None dropped into the small spread. At 4:07 (8 minutes before shooting hours were over) a pair of mallards dropped into a small, but deep, slough behind us. We decided to jump shoot those and call it a day. We snuck up and popped over the the knoll. The ducks jumped up and the hen fell. Eric put her down with one shot. I missed the drake.
My shooting is causing me great concern these days. I seem to be hitting everything I shoot at or nothing at all. I need to work on my shooting consistency, in a bad way. Getting the hang of this Patternmaster choke is proving to be tougher than I had thought.
As I stood in the cattails with Eric, we watched several wads of ducks milling around overhead. None dropped into the small spread. At 4:07 (8 minutes before shooting hours were over) a pair of mallards dropped into a small, but deep, slough behind us. We decided to jump shoot those and call it a day. We snuck up and popped over the the knoll. The ducks jumped up and the hen fell. Eric put her down with one shot. I missed the drake.
My shooting is causing me great concern these days. I seem to be hitting everything I shoot at or nothing at all. I need to work on my shooting consistency, in a bad way. Getting the hang of this Patternmaster choke is proving to be tougher than I had thought.
A Great Day To Be Out (12/26/10 Duck Hunt)
Eric and I were going to try the same setup as Christmas Eve. I would hunt the shoreline with a puddler duck configuration while Eric used his boat as a layout blind off shore for divers. The high winds precluded Eric from taking the boat out, so we set up a puddle/diver spread and hunted from the shore. As our luck held true to form, the wind died out right after the last decoys was set. With a little patience, Eric could have hunted from the boat but you never can tell when the wind will pick up or die down.
Several ducks made their way into our decoys just before light. Not only that, but they were ducks that I have been after for a while; a pair of canvasback drakes. They were big boys. I felt my heart sinking as I watched them swim out and disappear into the darkness. Has they landed in the decoys 10 minutes later, I am fairly confident that I could have shot one of them.
Again today, the ducks were not piling into the decoys. I'm unsure what has happened to all of the ducks in the area. Perhaps they have migrated south, or even back north. Any way around it, they aren't here in the massive numbers that they were.
Two shots were fired all morning, and i had one wigeon in the bag.
The draw of the outdoors this morning, however, was not the duck hunting. It was the weather. After a windy start to the day, the weather changed. The clouds cleared and the sun came out. With the sun, came mild temperatures. As the sun warmed my face, I closed my eyes and just took in the vitamin D. If I have to be out sitting next to the cold water without ducks flying, this was definitely the day to be out.
Several ducks made their way into our decoys just before light. Not only that, but they were ducks that I have been after for a while; a pair of canvasback drakes. They were big boys. I felt my heart sinking as I watched them swim out and disappear into the darkness. Has they landed in the decoys 10 minutes later, I am fairly confident that I could have shot one of them.
Again today, the ducks were not piling into the decoys. I'm unsure what has happened to all of the ducks in the area. Perhaps they have migrated south, or even back north. Any way around it, they aren't here in the massive numbers that they were.
Two shots were fired all morning, and i had one wigeon in the bag.
The draw of the outdoors this morning, however, was not the duck hunting. It was the weather. After a windy start to the day, the weather changed. The clouds cleared and the sun came out. With the sun, came mild temperatures. As the sun warmed my face, I closed my eyes and just took in the vitamin D. If I have to be out sitting next to the cold water without ducks flying, this was definitely the day to be out.
Dry Run (12/24/10 Duck Hunt)
A Christmas Eve hunt. Eric and I hit Finley this afternoon and were trying a new hunting configuration. I would set up on shore with the usual spread of puddler ducks. Eric took some diver decoys off shore with his little boat and was set up to hit the divers as they went by.
It has been quite a while since I had seen a day this slow. We sat, and sat, and sat. We had absolutely nothing fly over or near our decoys. Wish there was more to report, but there is only so many ways to say that we didn't shoot any ducks. So we picked up and headed home to get ready for Christmas Eve.
It has been quite a while since I had seen a day this slow. We sat, and sat, and sat. We had absolutely nothing fly over or near our decoys. Wish there was more to report, but there is only so many ways to say that we didn't shoot any ducks. So we picked up and headed home to get ready for Christmas Eve.
A Big Hunting Party (12/23/10 Duck Hunt)
I had a lot of company in the blind this morning. Besides Riley and I, Jeremy, Don and Kamaile were there. We were back in Finley. We set up on a point that had really deep water close to shore. We threw the decoys out and I started arranging them in the deeper water with the help of Eric's boat. Once they were set, I paddled back and hid the boat. We waited for "go time" to arrive". As we waited we talked to Jeremy about what to expect, as this was his first duck hunt.
After the time had arrived, we continued to wait about 20 minutes before we had our first wad of ducks circle our decoys. As they made their second pass, Don and I worked them with the calls. BOOM! Jeremy took his first shot. It startled Don and I, as we know each other's hunting style well enough to anticipate when the other will shoot. Jeremy's shot rang out much earlier than we would have shot. Jeremy missed the ducks he was shooting at.
More time passed, with more shots from Jeremy, Don and I. We finally had a duck screaming back up river to our decoys. He was locked in and committed to landing. We let him land and readied Kamaile for a shot at her first duck. She tapped off her first shot and wounded the canvasback drake. Don and I fired as backup. That canvasback limped its way back out to a raft of ducks before I could get out to him with the little boat. He blended in well and was impossible to find.
All was quiet for another hour. Our last pair of ducks screamed in right off the water to our left. Don and I fired and my shot dropped a redhead hen. The drake kept going. We all chuckled as soon as we realized Jeremy didn't even get a shot off. In his excitement, he couldn't get his safety off.
Since the day wasn't busy and we had kids along for the trip, we decided to call it a day a little early. Still, a lot of fun was had by all.
After the time had arrived, we continued to wait about 20 minutes before we had our first wad of ducks circle our decoys. As they made their second pass, Don and I worked them with the calls. BOOM! Jeremy took his first shot. It startled Don and I, as we know each other's hunting style well enough to anticipate when the other will shoot. Jeremy's shot rang out much earlier than we would have shot. Jeremy missed the ducks he was shooting at.
More time passed, with more shots from Jeremy, Don and I. We finally had a duck screaming back up river to our decoys. He was locked in and committed to landing. We let him land and readied Kamaile for a shot at her first duck. She tapped off her first shot and wounded the canvasback drake. Don and I fired as backup. That canvasback limped its way back out to a raft of ducks before I could get out to him with the little boat. He blended in well and was impossible to find.
All was quiet for another hour. Our last pair of ducks screamed in right off the water to our left. Don and I fired and my shot dropped a redhead hen. The drake kept going. We all chuckled as soon as we realized Jeremy didn't even get a shot off. In his excitement, he couldn't get his safety off.
Since the day wasn't busy and we had kids along for the trip, we decided to call it a day a little early. Still, a lot of fun was had by all.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Sometimes Being Wrong is Good (12/22/10 Duck Hunt)
Afternoon hunts appeal to me for a couple of reasons. First, I don't have to get up at 3:00 am and rush to get a good spot to hunt. Second, not many people duck hunt in the afternoon. Many times, the afternoon is not as productive as the morning, but having the river to yourself is rather nice.
This afternoon, I headed to Finley with Eric's Marsh Rat boat in the back of my truck. What a great tool. Low profile, stable and light. When I got to the river, I immediately went to the bank to survey the best spot to set up. What I saw was a large raft of birds directly in front of where I wanted to be. Since I had Eric's boat, I decided to put a sneak attack on first thing. I paddled up river from the raft and hoped to slowly drift back downriver until the birds were within range. It didn't quite work out that way. As I got close, the birds simply swam the other way.
I went back to shore to set up. After that, I sat for quite some time. Eventually, a pair of mallards worked their way overhead and I shot the drake. He landed with a thud on the other side of a little bay. After getting him, I sat back down and reloaded my gun. I sat for another hour or so watching ducks land in the big raft in front of me. In the distance, I saw a pair of birds fluttering around like they were unsure where they wanted to be. I hit the call and pulled the flutter wing string. They decided they wanted to be in my decoys. With three shots, I put both birds in the water. With multiple birds flying, I hurried out in Eric's boat to get them. I quickly looked at them, decided they were a pair of bluebills and threw them into the boat and paddled back. No more ducks came near me so I picked up and went home.
As I was readying to clean the ducks, I looked at the drake a little closer. This did not look like any bluebill I had ever seen. There was much too distinctive of a pattern on his bill. I did a little research and arrived at the conclusion that it may be a ring-necked duck. Not being terribly great at identifying unusual birds, I took a picture with my phone and sent it to Eric. He confirmed it was, indeed a ring-necked duck.
Another unusual bird. I have shot more unusual birds this year than in the past. I have mentioned it before, but one of my favorite things about duck hunting is that you never know what you will bring home. Sure, I love shooting the big mallards, but I really enjoy the unusual ones too. This time, my initial identification of the birds was wrong and I am glad I was.
This afternoon, I headed to Finley with Eric's Marsh Rat boat in the back of my truck. What a great tool. Low profile, stable and light. When I got to the river, I immediately went to the bank to survey the best spot to set up. What I saw was a large raft of birds directly in front of where I wanted to be. Since I had Eric's boat, I decided to put a sneak attack on first thing. I paddled up river from the raft and hoped to slowly drift back downriver until the birds were within range. It didn't quite work out that way. As I got close, the birds simply swam the other way.
I went back to shore to set up. After that, I sat for quite some time. Eventually, a pair of mallards worked their way overhead and I shot the drake. He landed with a thud on the other side of a little bay. After getting him, I sat back down and reloaded my gun. I sat for another hour or so watching ducks land in the big raft in front of me. In the distance, I saw a pair of birds fluttering around like they were unsure where they wanted to be. I hit the call and pulled the flutter wing string. They decided they wanted to be in my decoys. With three shots, I put both birds in the water. With multiple birds flying, I hurried out in Eric's boat to get them. I quickly looked at them, decided they were a pair of bluebills and threw them into the boat and paddled back. No more ducks came near me so I picked up and went home.
As I was readying to clean the ducks, I looked at the drake a little closer. This did not look like any bluebill I had ever seen. There was much too distinctive of a pattern on his bill. I did a little research and arrived at the conclusion that it may be a ring-necked duck. Not being terribly great at identifying unusual birds, I took a picture with my phone and sent it to Eric. He confirmed it was, indeed a ring-necked duck.
Another unusual bird. I have shot more unusual birds this year than in the past. I have mentioned it before, but one of my favorite things about duck hunting is that you never know what you will bring home. Sure, I love shooting the big mallards, but I really enjoy the unusual ones too. This time, my initial identification of the birds was wrong and I am glad I was.
Two Spots (12/19/10 Duck Hunt)
Don, Neal (Don's brother-in-law) and I found ourselves in Burbank early this morning. It had been over a year since I had been duck hunting with these two guys. Anytime we all get together, one thing is guaranteed; laughs. None of us take ourselves very seriously and we don't take each other seriously either.
We got the spread set at about 4:00, and the the wait was on. Shooting hours took forever to arrive today. As to be expected, though, we passed the time joking and telling funny stories. All the while, wads of ducks passed over on their way out to eat, knowing that we couldn't shoot at them yet.
When shooting time arrived, nothing was in the air. We waited...and waited...and waited some more. Finally, I heard a lone goose over my right shoulder and he was low. I pulled out my goose call and went to work. He flared and was coming our way. Slowly, he swept down to within shooting range. Once again, however, I was without my goose decoys. It didn't take the goose long to realize that something was not right. Goose noises should not be coming from someplace that there were no geese. It jinked to its right and we fired. Nine rounds shot and the goose flew off without so much as dropping a feather. We laughed at ourselves and each other for a bit then we sat back down and waited...and waited...and waited some more. One single mallard drake came rocketing in. Don and I popped our primers. The bird went down. One of the two of us got him but we fired so close together that it was hard to tell whose steel connected. I ran out to get him and we sat for another 1/2 hour before we decided that it was of no use to be out at that spot this morning. We picked up and I received word that we were headed to "Pond X."
I was introduced to Pond X last year. It was a fast and furious hunt that had all three of us limited out within a 1/2 hour of setting up. That adds up to 21 dead ducks in a very short amount of time. This pond is on private property and few people are allowed access. I knew I was in for a treat. Our plan this time was to jump shoot the resting ducks. After we scared them and they took flight, we would fire as many shots at them as our guns would hold. We made our plan and deployed. I haven't experienced that level of coordination with a gnu in my hand since my time in the middle east.
We were ready for the big moment, after scouting the ducks' exact location on the pond. 3...2...1...Here we go! As we popped over the levee, hundreds of birds took flight. Five mallard drakes fell back down. Now, part of the problem with Pond X is the water's depth. It is far too deep to wade into. Normally, a small boat is dispatched to collect the dead ducks. This time, however, we had no boat. I was wondering how we were going to get the ducks when Neal emerged from the other side of the levee with a fishing pole. This was no ordinary fishing pole. Neal had affixed a homemade duck retriever to the end of a huge river fishing rod. I was beginning to catch onto how we were going to get these ducks. Having grown up in Hawaii, I was confident that Neal would have the accuracy the cast over the ducks and reel them in. I was not disappointed. He made short order of bringing the ducks to shore (but not without a fair amount of laughter from Don and I).
This morning I was reminded why I like to hunt with these guys so much. They are both very funny and genuine people. They love the sport as much as I do. However, our loyalties lie in different type of hunting. Waterfowling is my number one obsession, while turkey hunting is theirs. Deer hunting ranks high on all of our lists. This blog will post many more adventures of the "Terrible Trio."
We got the spread set at about 4:00, and the the wait was on. Shooting hours took forever to arrive today. As to be expected, though, we passed the time joking and telling funny stories. All the while, wads of ducks passed over on their way out to eat, knowing that we couldn't shoot at them yet.
When shooting time arrived, nothing was in the air. We waited...and waited...and waited some more. Finally, I heard a lone goose over my right shoulder and he was low. I pulled out my goose call and went to work. He flared and was coming our way. Slowly, he swept down to within shooting range. Once again, however, I was without my goose decoys. It didn't take the goose long to realize that something was not right. Goose noises should not be coming from someplace that there were no geese. It jinked to its right and we fired. Nine rounds shot and the goose flew off without so much as dropping a feather. We laughed at ourselves and each other for a bit then we sat back down and waited...and waited...and waited some more. One single mallard drake came rocketing in. Don and I popped our primers. The bird went down. One of the two of us got him but we fired so close together that it was hard to tell whose steel connected. I ran out to get him and we sat for another 1/2 hour before we decided that it was of no use to be out at that spot this morning. We picked up and I received word that we were headed to "Pond X."
I was introduced to Pond X last year. It was a fast and furious hunt that had all three of us limited out within a 1/2 hour of setting up. That adds up to 21 dead ducks in a very short amount of time. This pond is on private property and few people are allowed access. I knew I was in for a treat. Our plan this time was to jump shoot the resting ducks. After we scared them and they took flight, we would fire as many shots at them as our guns would hold. We made our plan and deployed. I haven't experienced that level of coordination with a gnu in my hand since my time in the middle east.
We were ready for the big moment, after scouting the ducks' exact location on the pond. 3...2...1...Here we go! As we popped over the levee, hundreds of birds took flight. Five mallard drakes fell back down. Now, part of the problem with Pond X is the water's depth. It is far too deep to wade into. Normally, a small boat is dispatched to collect the dead ducks. This time, however, we had no boat. I was wondering how we were going to get the ducks when Neal emerged from the other side of the levee with a fishing pole. This was no ordinary fishing pole. Neal had affixed a homemade duck retriever to the end of a huge river fishing rod. I was beginning to catch onto how we were going to get these ducks. Having grown up in Hawaii, I was confident that Neal would have the accuracy the cast over the ducks and reel them in. I was not disappointed. He made short order of bringing the ducks to shore (but not without a fair amount of laughter from Don and I).
This morning I was reminded why I like to hunt with these guys so much. They are both very funny and genuine people. They love the sport as much as I do. However, our loyalties lie in different type of hunting. Waterfowling is my number one obsession, while turkey hunting is theirs. Deer hunting ranks high on all of our lists. This blog will post many more adventures of the "Terrible Trio."
Saturday, December 18, 2010
The All Day Hunt That Wasn't (12/18/10 Duck Hunt)
I overslept this morning. Hard to believe, I know. I woke to a text from Eric asking if I was awake. After sending a response, I double checked my alarm. Stupid iPhone alarm. I had set it for 4:30 pm, not 4:30 am. I hurried to get dressed so I could meet Eric at the prearranged spot in Burbank. I finally got there by 6:00. He had already made it and set his decoys out. I set mine out and our all day hunt was started.
We sat for a little over an hour before we had our first set come into the decoys. I didn't notice them until Eric pointed them out. Eric urged me to take the first shot of the day. I touched off a shot and missed them both. I fired again. Still nothing. I think Eric fired once or twice, but I can't say for sure. They both flew off. No dead ducks in that round.
We sat for another 1/2 hour or so before the snow and ice wrecked our decoys spread. We decided to pick up and move before the weather made it impossible for ducks to land where we wanted. We walked for about 1 1/2 - 2 hours before settling on a spot. Burbank was a popular area today. By the time we arrive on the island (normally inaccessible due to deep water) at the confluence of the Columbia and Snake Rivers, we were both very sweaty. Neoprene waders don't breathe...at all.
Not long after we sat down, a bird zipped in from the right, circled around in front of our decoys and ended up dropping in from our left. I fired a shot and the bluebill hen went down. A few minutes later, Eric shot a wigeon hen as it passed overhead. As time went by, the raft of wigeons to our left grew. It became massive while, at the same time, it moved slowly towards us. When the raft made it to our island, it had to do one of two things; either pass behind us (on the other side of the island) or in front of us. I prayed for the latter because it would have put several hundred ducks right in front of us, on the water. Right on cue, they went behind us. For the next hour or so, we watched flock after flock avoid our decoys and land in the raft of real birds. I don't care how good your decoys look, they can never compete with the real thing.
We finally looked at each other, teeth chattering, and agreed to call it a day even though we had intended to hunt all day. By 11:00, mother nature had kicked our asses. We were sweaty, cold and tired of watching birds go somewhere else. We packed up and headed out.
We sat for a little over an hour before we had our first set come into the decoys. I didn't notice them until Eric pointed them out. Eric urged me to take the first shot of the day. I touched off a shot and missed them both. I fired again. Still nothing. I think Eric fired once or twice, but I can't say for sure. They both flew off. No dead ducks in that round.
We sat for another 1/2 hour or so before the snow and ice wrecked our decoys spread. We decided to pick up and move before the weather made it impossible for ducks to land where we wanted. We walked for about 1 1/2 - 2 hours before settling on a spot. Burbank was a popular area today. By the time we arrive on the island (normally inaccessible due to deep water) at the confluence of the Columbia and Snake Rivers, we were both very sweaty. Neoprene waders don't breathe...at all.
Not long after we sat down, a bird zipped in from the right, circled around in front of our decoys and ended up dropping in from our left. I fired a shot and the bluebill hen went down. A few minutes later, Eric shot a wigeon hen as it passed overhead. As time went by, the raft of wigeons to our left grew. It became massive while, at the same time, it moved slowly towards us. When the raft made it to our island, it had to do one of two things; either pass behind us (on the other side of the island) or in front of us. I prayed for the latter because it would have put several hundred ducks right in front of us, on the water. Right on cue, they went behind us. For the next hour or so, we watched flock after flock avoid our decoys and land in the raft of real birds. I don't care how good your decoys look, they can never compete with the real thing.
We finally looked at each other, teeth chattering, and agreed to call it a day even though we had intended to hunt all day. By 11:00, mother nature had kicked our asses. We were sweaty, cold and tired of watching birds go somewhere else. We packed up and headed out.
They Gave Me a Headache (12/15/10 Duck Hunt)
Holy cow, what a bad day! I didn't think it was possible to have a horrible day duck hunting, but I definitely found out otherwise today! Casey picked me up at 3:30 this morning, with his buddy's 12 foot aluminum boat in the back of his truck. We were headed to "the peninsula" in the McNary Wildlife Refuge this morning. The plan was to take the boat to an island and secure a blind that neither one of us had ever hunted.
After getting the boat into the water, we went nowhere fast. The boat was dragging the bottom most of the way out of the cove and the trolling motor was not powerful enough to push us out. Finally, we freed ourselves up and moved at a snails pace. We finally arrive at what we thought was the blind we were looking for, so we pulled in. It had a nice blind to sit in. As we started throwing decoys out and setting our chairs up, we quickly realized we were in the handicap blind. We decided to just stay and leave if someone came in that needed the blind.
As the sun started to come up, they started. A group to our left started calling. They called all day long. They called at ducks that were close. They called at ducks that were miles away. They wore their calls out. Not only that, but they only knew one type of call; the hail call. Anyone that knows anything about duck hunting knows the hail call is the loudest and most annoying of all the calling methods. The only ducks they shot that day are the ones that snuck up on them from the treeline behind them and didn't give them a chance to call.
I don't really remember most details about my hunt that day, because I was so tired of listening to them. I went home with a headache. The one detail that I do recall is that I worked some geese into fairly close range. They flew off, though, because I didn't have any goose decoys to help me finish them with.
After getting the boat into the water, we went nowhere fast. The boat was dragging the bottom most of the way out of the cove and the trolling motor was not powerful enough to push us out. Finally, we freed ourselves up and moved at a snails pace. We finally arrive at what we thought was the blind we were looking for, so we pulled in. It had a nice blind to sit in. As we started throwing decoys out and setting our chairs up, we quickly realized we were in the handicap blind. We decided to just stay and leave if someone came in that needed the blind.
As the sun started to come up, they started. A group to our left started calling. They called all day long. They called at ducks that were close. They called at ducks that were miles away. They wore their calls out. Not only that, but they only knew one type of call; the hail call. Anyone that knows anything about duck hunting knows the hail call is the loudest and most annoying of all the calling methods. The only ducks they shot that day are the ones that snuck up on them from the treeline behind them and didn't give them a chance to call.
I don't really remember most details about my hunt that day, because I was so tired of listening to them. I went home with a headache. The one detail that I do recall is that I worked some geese into fairly close range. They flew off, though, because I didn't have any goose decoys to help me finish them with.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Eagle's Eye (12/12/10 Duck Hunt)
I met Casey and his friend Adam in Burbank today. They had already arrived by the time I had gotten there. More than that, they had already been down to the waters edge and found that someone was already in the spot that we had talked about and Casey was concerned that the water had come back up so much that there would not be a dry patch to hunt from. I found them at the cove where I usually make my way into water. After going out into the cove and making a left, I found my favorite spot open. The water had also come back up to normal levels, making this a good spot for the day.
Slow would not even begin to describe the action today. As soon as the sun came up, we realized what our biggest obstacle would be. Directly in front of us, about 1000 feet toward the main channel, there was a raft of close to 1000 birds already on the water. We heard wigeon and mallards in the mix. I am sure there were coots as well. Having the raft in front of us, we had trouble getting anything to stop into our decoys. A few flew overhead, followed by shots from Casey and Adam. Neither one was able to connect with anything.
After a few hours of sitting, Casey left the blind to see if he could find a spot to jump shoot a bay to our left. While he was gone, I leaned back in my chair and kicked my feet out to relax. Directly in front of me I saw a big silhouette coming straight for me. At first, I didn't move. I thought it was a cormorant. It finally dawned on me that it was not acting like a cormorant, so I leaned forward, grabbed my gun, waited for the bird to come closer and fired. I crumbled up one of the biggest mallards I have ever seen. He was a big boy, for sure. I went out to grab my duck and on the way back I saw Casey coming back from his hike. He had a smirk on his face, as if to say "I knew you would get some birds in if I left."
For quite a while this morning, a bald eagle sat on a limb right behind our blind. If it was more than 100 feet behind us, I would be surprised. What an awesome creature. I have never seen one sit that long. I half expected it to swoop out for our dead ducks if we managed to shoot one while it sat there.
We sat for a while longer. A few birds worked their way in, with Casey and Adam shooting as soon as they were near. Again, nothing was killed. Then, a boat went down the river and stirred up the raft we had been watching all morning. Birds went north, south, east and west. Some came toward our blind. I thought to myself, "I only need the dumb ones. Just send me the dumb ones." Well, one dumb one came closer and Casey and Adam both shot long before I would have called the shot. After the drake greenwing teal flew out a little ways, I let a shot go. The Patternmaster choke on the end of my Benelli never ceases to surprise me. The duck fell, dead instantly. That would be the last duck of the day...for anyone.
Today, I figured out another thing that draws me to duck hunting. I love the finesse that is required to fully work a group of ducks into decoys. Sure, sometimes they come in without any effort, but I really enjoy the times when I interact with the ducks and convince them to land only by using my decoys and calling to them. While I will do it every once in a while, "skybusting" is just not my thing. I don't like shooting at ducks that are close just to try and "get one." For me, its much more about the effort of working ducks than shooting ducks just for the sake of shooting them because they happen to be flying close. Duck hunting is definitely not a sport where you can force results. The hunter has to be willing to talk to the ducks and have patience.
I also realized today just how fortunate I am to have the wife I do. I usually hunt two, sometimes three days a week. The vast majority of the time, she supports my outings. Occasionally, however, there are days when I know it wears on her nerves...and rightfully so I think. She understands the importance that duck hunting has to me. She realizes that my sanity and ability to reset myself mentally depends on my being able to hunt as much as I can, since it is not really a year-round activity. I truly do appreciate the freedom that she affords me in my quest to be the best duck hunter that I can be. For that, thank you Jodi. I love you.
Slow would not even begin to describe the action today. As soon as the sun came up, we realized what our biggest obstacle would be. Directly in front of us, about 1000 feet toward the main channel, there was a raft of close to 1000 birds already on the water. We heard wigeon and mallards in the mix. I am sure there were coots as well. Having the raft in front of us, we had trouble getting anything to stop into our decoys. A few flew overhead, followed by shots from Casey and Adam. Neither one was able to connect with anything.
After a few hours of sitting, Casey left the blind to see if he could find a spot to jump shoot a bay to our left. While he was gone, I leaned back in my chair and kicked my feet out to relax. Directly in front of me I saw a big silhouette coming straight for me. At first, I didn't move. I thought it was a cormorant. It finally dawned on me that it was not acting like a cormorant, so I leaned forward, grabbed my gun, waited for the bird to come closer and fired. I crumbled up one of the biggest mallards I have ever seen. He was a big boy, for sure. I went out to grab my duck and on the way back I saw Casey coming back from his hike. He had a smirk on his face, as if to say "I knew you would get some birds in if I left."
For quite a while this morning, a bald eagle sat on a limb right behind our blind. If it was more than 100 feet behind us, I would be surprised. What an awesome creature. I have never seen one sit that long. I half expected it to swoop out for our dead ducks if we managed to shoot one while it sat there.
We sat for a while longer. A few birds worked their way in, with Casey and Adam shooting as soon as they were near. Again, nothing was killed. Then, a boat went down the river and stirred up the raft we had been watching all morning. Birds went north, south, east and west. Some came toward our blind. I thought to myself, "I only need the dumb ones. Just send me the dumb ones." Well, one dumb one came closer and Casey and Adam both shot long before I would have called the shot. After the drake greenwing teal flew out a little ways, I let a shot go. The Patternmaster choke on the end of my Benelli never ceases to surprise me. The duck fell, dead instantly. That would be the last duck of the day...for anyone.
Today, I figured out another thing that draws me to duck hunting. I love the finesse that is required to fully work a group of ducks into decoys. Sure, sometimes they come in without any effort, but I really enjoy the times when I interact with the ducks and convince them to land only by using my decoys and calling to them. While I will do it every once in a while, "skybusting" is just not my thing. I don't like shooting at ducks that are close just to try and "get one." For me, its much more about the effort of working ducks than shooting ducks just for the sake of shooting them because they happen to be flying close. Duck hunting is definitely not a sport where you can force results. The hunter has to be willing to talk to the ducks and have patience.
I also realized today just how fortunate I am to have the wife I do. I usually hunt two, sometimes three days a week. The vast majority of the time, she supports my outings. Occasionally, however, there are days when I know it wears on her nerves...and rightfully so I think. She understands the importance that duck hunting has to me. She realizes that my sanity and ability to reset myself mentally depends on my being able to hunt as much as I can, since it is not really a year-round activity. I truly do appreciate the freedom that she affords me in my quest to be the best duck hunter that I can be. For that, thank you Jodi. I love you.
Friday, December 10, 2010
The Wind Was Out of Control (12/10/10 Duck Hunt)
The wind at the point in Burbank was already blowing heavily by the time I got there at 5:00. It was not a light wind, but a heavy wind blowing right in my face. I was left with few options for my spread this morning. I set it up as best I could to entice ducks into landing with some form of tailwind. By 6:05 I was done and the waiting began. More ducks than usual dropped into the decoys right before light. Normally, two or three will torment me. However, this morning I saw at least twelve drop in.
The first sucker swung by my spread for a look somewhere near 7:30. I took her down with one shot, but only wounded her. I retrieved the wigeon hen and sat back down. I watched several large groups of ducks flying up the main channel of the river. Some would get closer for a look at my decoys, but few came within range for me to shoot. Since I couldn't get any ducks to commit, I switched my spread around a little. That worked. Soon a wigeon drake cupped his wings, out-stretched his feet and committed to a landing. I folded him up fairly quickly. He needed a finishing shot, though, which I administered on my way out to get him.
As I settled in after the retrieve, a group of 9 canada geese were on their way in for a look. I was a bit confused by this. I didn't have any of my goose decoys in the water, since they can't be hunted on Fridays here. Regardless, I was going to practice my goose calling (which needed to be done badly). I called to them and they kept coming and seemed to be dropping into the decoys. I kept at it. They kept coming until they stalled out about 30 feet straight over my decoys. They looped back around and looked as though they were fully committed to coming in. I'm not sure if they noticed that there weren't actually any geese in my spread or noticed me watching them but they changed their minds and flew off. Had this been a Wednesday, Saturday or Sunday, I would have gotten a shot or two at them, for sure.
One highlight of the day came in the form of two birds circling overhead that weren't even legal for me to shoot. Bald eagles follow the migration south, as ducks are a part of their diet. Every once in a while, I'll see one while I am out hunting. However, today was different. Across the Columbia River, I saw two huge silhouettes flapping enormous wings and gracefully diving toward the surface of the water. These huge birds turned out to be a pair of bald eagles hunting. As I sat and watched, their circles shifted closer to me. They eventually ended up almost directly overhead. What a sight! If you have never been lucky enough to see these birds in person, I feel sorry for you. By the time they left the area, they had been within about 200 feet of me. That sight made me glad to have them as our national bird, instead of the turkey.
The last duck of the day was a gadwall drake. By the time I got a chance to shoot him, I had rearranged the decoys a couple of times and put the flapper out in the water. The conditions changed so much this morning that it seemed as though I spent half of my morning rearranging decoys.
Not a spectacular day in the field, but I learned something nevertheless. The decoy spread can't be permanent. It has to be changed when the conditions change. I knew this already, but it was certainly reinforced today.
The first sucker swung by my spread for a look somewhere near 7:30. I took her down with one shot, but only wounded her. I retrieved the wigeon hen and sat back down. I watched several large groups of ducks flying up the main channel of the river. Some would get closer for a look at my decoys, but few came within range for me to shoot. Since I couldn't get any ducks to commit, I switched my spread around a little. That worked. Soon a wigeon drake cupped his wings, out-stretched his feet and committed to a landing. I folded him up fairly quickly. He needed a finishing shot, though, which I administered on my way out to get him.
As I settled in after the retrieve, a group of 9 canada geese were on their way in for a look. I was a bit confused by this. I didn't have any of my goose decoys in the water, since they can't be hunted on Fridays here. Regardless, I was going to practice my goose calling (which needed to be done badly). I called to them and they kept coming and seemed to be dropping into the decoys. I kept at it. They kept coming until they stalled out about 30 feet straight over my decoys. They looped back around and looked as though they were fully committed to coming in. I'm not sure if they noticed that there weren't actually any geese in my spread or noticed me watching them but they changed their minds and flew off. Had this been a Wednesday, Saturday or Sunday, I would have gotten a shot or two at them, for sure.
One highlight of the day came in the form of two birds circling overhead that weren't even legal for me to shoot. Bald eagles follow the migration south, as ducks are a part of their diet. Every once in a while, I'll see one while I am out hunting. However, today was different. Across the Columbia River, I saw two huge silhouettes flapping enormous wings and gracefully diving toward the surface of the water. These huge birds turned out to be a pair of bald eagles hunting. As I sat and watched, their circles shifted closer to me. They eventually ended up almost directly overhead. What a sight! If you have never been lucky enough to see these birds in person, I feel sorry for you. By the time they left the area, they had been within about 200 feet of me. That sight made me glad to have them as our national bird, instead of the turkey.
The last duck of the day was a gadwall drake. By the time I got a chance to shoot him, I had rearranged the decoys a couple of times and put the flapper out in the water. The conditions changed so much this morning that it seemed as though I spent half of my morning rearranging decoys.
Not a spectacular day in the field, but I learned something nevertheless. The decoy spread can't be permanent. It has to be changed when the conditions change. I knew this already, but it was certainly reinforced today.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Two Friends Meet (12/5/10 Duck Hunt)
Eric and I met Casey at the Wal-Mart in Kennewick early this morning to head down to the Umatilla Wildlife Preserve. I had hunted there exactly two times before, with mixed success. My first trip was about this time in 2009. I bagged three woodie drakes, a wigeon hen and my first banded mallard. The other time, I fired one shot and missed my target .
We had a little trouble finding a spot to set up once we got there. The area didn't really look anything like it did last year. The wind was also not working in our favor. We finally settled on a spot in a small cove. On the way, however, Eric's day started in a bad way with a slip on an underwater rock causing him to sit in water. His waders began to fill from the top, I later learned.
Between Casey's, Eric's and my decoys, we had a small navy of decoys in the water just in time for shooting hours. As usual, ducks flew overhead as we stood in the water arranging things. There were many more this time than normal. Hundreds, if not thousands, of ducks passed overhead as they went to eat.
We finally sat down and were ready to go. We waited...and waited...and waited. Nothing gave us a second look. Finally, a bufflehead hen zipped from left to right. I raised my gun and fired. It was a hit, but not a kill. I stepped out into the water and fired again. She was dead. Now the race was on to get her out of the water before the wind carried her away or the current moved her too far. As I made my way out to get her, I could see her drifting into the deeper part of the river. As I got chest deep, she was still 30 feet from me. I was not going to able to get her. I hate not being able to retrieve an animal that I have harvested, whether it be a duck, deer or bear.
Eric stood a little while later. He said he was going for a walk to warm up. I couldn't blame him. He was soaked. He left the blind and Casey and I stayed. Some time later, we heard shots coming from Eric's general direction. About 10 minutes later, I found out what Eric shot. From behind me, a bufflehead drake dropped in to my right. It was already dead and the mystery of what Eric had shot at was solved.
Eric called in a couple of canada geese. After 9 shots, they escaped with not even so much as a feather being knocked off. A bit later, a mallard hen flew straight at us and turning to our left just before our decoys. Casey shot and knocked her down. When he got around the point to pick her up, she wasn't there. He couldn't find her. Next, agoldeneye flew straight at us. As it passed straight over our head, all three of us got a shot off. He kept going.
Having been cold long enough, we decided to call it a day. All was not wasted, though. We had some good laughs and told some funny stories. We also talked about our upcoming trip to Missouri to hunt snow geese. Another great morning in the field with some of my best friends was drawing to a close. I wish every day could start like this.
We had a little trouble finding a spot to set up once we got there. The area didn't really look anything like it did last year. The wind was also not working in our favor. We finally settled on a spot in a small cove. On the way, however, Eric's day started in a bad way with a slip on an underwater rock causing him to sit in water. His waders began to fill from the top, I later learned.
Between Casey's, Eric's and my decoys, we had a small navy of decoys in the water just in time for shooting hours. As usual, ducks flew overhead as we stood in the water arranging things. There were many more this time than normal. Hundreds, if not thousands, of ducks passed overhead as they went to eat.
We finally sat down and were ready to go. We waited...and waited...and waited. Nothing gave us a second look. Finally, a bufflehead hen zipped from left to right. I raised my gun and fired. It was a hit, but not a kill. I stepped out into the water and fired again. She was dead. Now the race was on to get her out of the water before the wind carried her away or the current moved her too far. As I made my way out to get her, I could see her drifting into the deeper part of the river. As I got chest deep, she was still 30 feet from me. I was not going to able to get her. I hate not being able to retrieve an animal that I have harvested, whether it be a duck, deer or bear.
Eric stood a little while later. He said he was going for a walk to warm up. I couldn't blame him. He was soaked. He left the blind and Casey and I stayed. Some time later, we heard shots coming from Eric's general direction. About 10 minutes later, I found out what Eric shot. From behind me, a bufflehead drake dropped in to my right. It was already dead and the mystery of what Eric had shot at was solved.
Eric called in a couple of canada geese. After 9 shots, they escaped with not even so much as a feather being knocked off. A bit later, a mallard hen flew straight at us and turning to our left just before our decoys. Casey shot and knocked her down. When he got around the point to pick her up, she wasn't there. He couldn't find her. Next, a
Having been cold long enough, we decided to call it a day. All was not wasted, though. We had some good laughs and told some funny stories. We also talked about our upcoming trip to Missouri to hunt snow geese. Another great morning in the field with some of my best friends was drawing to a close. I wish every day could start like this.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Willie Goes Back to the Water (12/4/10 Duck Hunt)
I figured it was now or never to get Willie back out to see if he still had what it takes to duck hunt. Hopefully he would remember what this game was about after almost four years off. He wasn't exactly a seasoned duck hunting dog when we moved to New Mexico, but maybe all of his training will come back, I thought this morning. I had worked with him a little throughout the year but was unsure what specifically to concentrate on since I hadn't identified his weaknesses yet. Since this was going to be a short hunt I thought this would be a good hunt to get him back out, especially since Riley was along and could help me work with him. She digs that kind of stuff.
We got to Finley at 3:50. Eric and I hurried to put out our decoys. This is a popular spot. Willie went with us to the water's edge. He was excited and hyper. Initially, he acted as though he had not had any type of obedience training.While we were throwing decoys into the water, Willie jumped in the water and swam around for a bit. As he swam back to shore, he brought decoys back with him. The cords were wrapped around his legs. "Not a good start," I thought to myself. After a little swimming and a few corrections, he settled down a little. We went back to the truck for a little nap before the hunt. Riley and Justus were already asleep by the time Willie and I got back.
6:45 rolled around and we headed back out to the blind. As I went out to the flapper to get my lantern, birds flew overhead wanting into the decoys. A year ago, I might have been surprised at something like this or even gotten somewhat excited. Now, this type of close encounter has become the norm. Since it had been a couple of years since Willie had been around 12 gauge shotguns firing off their payload, I had Riley sit with him about 30 yards from where we were hunting. The plan was to work him in slowly as we shot at birds. It took quite a while to get some birds to shoot at. Ducks would come by for a look at our spread, but kept going. On top of a big yellow dog moving around, we were competing with a raft of about 2000-3000 ducks in the water just downriver from us. We finally got seven geese that Eric called close enough for a shot. Eric and I emptied our guns. To our amazement, NOTHING fell. Not even a feather. Eric and I managed to miss a substantial group of big birds that apparently had a death wish. Poor Justus didn't even get a shot off. His hands were so cold that he couldn't cycle the safety off.
I moved Willie and Riley closer to us. Now he was about 15 yards away. Eric and I worked some more birds in for a shot. Three mallards to be exact. A bunch more shots were fired, and nothing fell. Another single bird flew over and more shots with no dead bird. At this point, Willie was beginning to get out of control. He was getting hard for Riley to handle. His whining and nonstop moving, I feared, would soon be heard by any ducks that we were trying to fool. I sat him down right next to me. He sat there for about 15 minutes before I had enough of him trying to climb into my lap. How the heck could I hunt with a 90 lb lab in my lap? Riley looked cold, so I asked her if she wanted to go back to the truck and take Willie. With very little hesitation, she accepted the offer. By 8:30, Riley was back at the truck with the dog.
Justus and I sat for another 1/2 hour before we had to leave. No other birds came close enough for a shot so we went home empty handed. I did learn, however, that Willie has lost the vast majority of the training I had worked so hard to instill in him when he was a puppy. He plays a great game of fetch at the house and still loves the smell of ducks, but he is no longer a duck hunting dog. I was very disappointed in him today. More than that, I was (and am) disappointed in myself. I am disappointed in not maintaining his training while we lived in New Mexico, Idaho and out first year in Washington. At six years old, I'm not sure that I could bring Willie back to his prime. I honestly don't think I can even bring him back close to what he was. I can't fault him. I suppose his state today is 100% my fault. He is still a great dog, just not a great dog for duck hunting.
We got to Finley at 3:50. Eric and I hurried to put out our decoys. This is a popular spot. Willie went with us to the water's edge. He was excited and hyper. Initially, he acted as though he had not had any type of obedience training.While we were throwing decoys into the water, Willie jumped in the water and swam around for a bit. As he swam back to shore, he brought decoys back with him. The cords were wrapped around his legs. "Not a good start," I thought to myself. After a little swimming and a few corrections, he settled down a little. We went back to the truck for a little nap before the hunt. Riley and Justus were already asleep by the time Willie and I got back.
6:45 rolled around and we headed back out to the blind. As I went out to the flapper to get my lantern, birds flew overhead wanting into the decoys. A year ago, I might have been surprised at something like this or even gotten somewhat excited. Now, this type of close encounter has become the norm. Since it had been a couple of years since Willie had been around 12 gauge shotguns firing off their payload, I had Riley sit with him about 30 yards from where we were hunting. The plan was to work him in slowly as we shot at birds. It took quite a while to get some birds to shoot at. Ducks would come by for a look at our spread, but kept going. On top of a big yellow dog moving around, we were competing with a raft of about 2000-3000 ducks in the water just downriver from us. We finally got seven geese that Eric called close enough for a shot. Eric and I emptied our guns. To our amazement, NOTHING fell. Not even a feather. Eric and I managed to miss a substantial group of big birds that apparently had a death wish. Poor Justus didn't even get a shot off. His hands were so cold that he couldn't cycle the safety off.
I moved Willie and Riley closer to us. Now he was about 15 yards away. Eric and I worked some more birds in for a shot. Three mallards to be exact. A bunch more shots were fired, and nothing fell. Another single bird flew over and more shots with no dead bird. At this point, Willie was beginning to get out of control. He was getting hard for Riley to handle. His whining and nonstop moving, I feared, would soon be heard by any ducks that we were trying to fool. I sat him down right next to me. He sat there for about 15 minutes before I had enough of him trying to climb into my lap. How the heck could I hunt with a 90 lb lab in my lap? Riley looked cold, so I asked her if she wanted to go back to the truck and take Willie. With very little hesitation, she accepted the offer. By 8:30, Riley was back at the truck with the dog.
Justus and I sat for another 1/2 hour before we had to leave. No other birds came close enough for a shot so we went home empty handed. I did learn, however, that Willie has lost the vast majority of the training I had worked so hard to instill in him when he was a puppy. He plays a great game of fetch at the house and still loves the smell of ducks, but he is no longer a duck hunting dog. I was very disappointed in him today. More than that, I was (and am) disappointed in myself. I am disappointed in not maintaining his training while we lived in New Mexico, Idaho and out first year in Washington. At six years old, I'm not sure that I could bring Willie back to his prime. I honestly don't think I can even bring him back close to what he was. I can't fault him. I suppose his state today is 100% my fault. He is still a great dog, just not a great dog for duck hunting.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Worth Every Penny (11/30/10 Duck Hunt)
The forecast called for light snow, turning to freezing rain. This, I hoped, would get the ducks moving so I could get a quick hunt in before heading off to work. The weather man was right. After my decoys were in place, I sat still for about an hour just downriver from one of the spots that Eric and I hunt so much. The river was way down this morning and ice was still clinging to the shoreline. It was not, however, nearly as icy as the last time I was on this side of the river. As I sat still, the light snow fell all over me. By the time shooting time arrived, my gun had about 1/2" of snow on the stock. At 6:55, I starting scanning the skies for ducks. I watched until 7:10 when a pair of gadwalls circled my decoys. I was a little surprised that they gave my spread a second glance because of the way I had to set it up. Because of the ice and low water level, I had to set the decoys right where the water turned to ice which still put the farthest decoys about 45 yards out. The gadwalls circled lower. I let them pass overhead one more time and gave them some soft quacks. They kept coming. Finally, they cupped their wings and committed to landing. Just before touch down, I fired a shot and scored the drake. He fell stone dead in the water. I touched off a shot at the escaping hen. No luck, she was too far away.
That was it. That was the morning rush of birds. Not quite what I had in mind, but not every day can be a limit.
In those hours that I sat and waited, I was first covered in snow. As the morning wore on, the snow turned to sleet and ice. Shortly before I picked up to leave, I realized something that will stick with me forever; DON'T SKIMP ON DUCK HUNTING GEAR! Here is why. As I pushed the hood back on my hunting sweatshirt, it moved as one solid piece of ice. Without me realizing it, all of the snow and ice had accumulated on my hood and shoulders and frozen itself solid while I remained warm and toasty, with the exception of my hands. I bought that sweatshirt this fall because it was supposed to be waterproof and keep me warm. It did that and more. I would not pay over $100 for a sweatshirt on most days, but this one was worth every penny!
That was it. That was the morning rush of birds. Not quite what I had in mind, but not every day can be a limit.
In those hours that I sat and waited, I was first covered in snow. As the morning wore on, the snow turned to sleet and ice. Shortly before I picked up to leave, I realized something that will stick with me forever; DON'T SKIMP ON DUCK HUNTING GEAR! Here is why. As I pushed the hood back on my hunting sweatshirt, it moved as one solid piece of ice. Without me realizing it, all of the snow and ice had accumulated on my hood and shoulders and frozen itself solid while I remained warm and toasty, with the exception of my hands. I bought that sweatshirt this fall because it was supposed to be waterproof and keep me warm. It did that and more. I would not pay over $100 for a sweatshirt on most days, but this one was worth every penny!
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