The first of October marks the beginning to another wonderful autumn in the woods. October is my month to enjoy cool days and changing leaves, not to work on home projects. I have been scrambling to get the cabin covered in a protective coating of preservative. As you may be aware the weather has not been a cooperative partner in my endeavor. It rains every other day, limiting my effort and causing more hair loss. So be it, come Saturday I will be switching out the staining brush, for a shotgun and adventure.
I enjoy and look forward (like a child) to the opening of the autumn season for game birds. Woodcock, Pheasant, ducks, turkey and grouse will provoke me into a frenzy of activity. This year I have a new puppy, another Britt who is going to be filling the paws of Toby. Zoey is still a youngster at eight months of age, full of determination and energy. I have been working with her through the summer. She is learning how to manipulate me with a sassy attitude. “Zoey sit… lay down… get out of the garbage can.” She rears her head back and gives me a chorus of woo, woo, woo! Oh it is going to be an interesting year in the field with this one.
Saturday morning before sunrise I plan on dropping some duck decoys into the river. I have endured enough from the local mallards this summer. I have some issues to settle with these ducks. They like to lounge on my dock in tight clusters to sleep, up to fifteen of them at a time. After a good rest and some preening they get up and wander around leaving their calling cards, for me to remember them by.
I hope to re-educate them with some cautionary volleys from the Remington magnum. As a rule I am a decent wing shot on most birds but ducks pose a problem. I tend to miss most of them cleanly, laying a string of shot behind them. They just fly to darn fast and I am not good at sustaining a lead on them. By the end of the season I seem to collect a half dozen for the freezer. As the saying goes even a blind chicken gets a kernel of corn now and again. I may not do much to control the duck population but the manufactures of shotgun shells profit from my attempts.
Saturday afternoon I will take to the fields with Zoey. I am eager to see what she has for natural talent (other than back talking). I will not be all that serious about the whole matter, I’ll be happy if she is able to stumble across a bird or two. It has been a long time since I have started a pup and there is nothing more rewarding. The crisp days of autumn are well spent following a dog to the horizon. I’ll enjoy her prancing about, curious nature and be amazed by her energy. We will both form a mutual bond through our days together in October. If I’m not too tuckered out at days end, I’ll share some of that time with you in the weeks to come.
I have not given up on fishing or my goal of one hundred rides in the Lyman this season. My last rip for northern pike was my 82nd ride. The fishing was not very good but the entertainment was priceless. Up at Angel Rock Lodge a family with small children came down to the dock. The kids pleaded with the folks to let them drop a line in the water. “Can we go fishing…please?” The parents were taking in the sunset and photographing the brilliant sky. Their little girl (who I would say was about 3 or 4 years of age) settled down at docks edge with a tiny fishing pole. She wore knee high boots and blue shorts that left a gap between the two.
Suddenly she began to screech with delight. “I got one I got one. A fish… I caught a fish!” She swung the little rod around to show off her prize. Her tiny feet were both elevated off the dock in unison as she flung her arms into the air. Each time she jumped I laughed out loud! Her feet in those boots hung in the air like she was flying above the earth. What a privilege to see a little girl catch her first fish and her evident delight. The River has “hooked” another ardent admirer, I’m sure.
