Sunday night I took my pup out for a walk around the yard. She sniffed all about the ground, looking for any remaining scent that may have been left by a cottontail. As she took care of her business, I realized the overwhelming silence. The wind was still, the stars were bright and the moon has waned to nothing. I strained my ears and hoped to hear at least one cricket. That beautiful chorus that I took for granted during the late summer has ended. The air temperature was at 35 degrees, the coolest that it has been along the river so far. Isn’t it amazing how in tune to the weather even the insects are!
Sandy called for the septic to be pumped and the man who came had his own idea as to where the tank might be. I told him that I thought that it was in front of the small cabin. He said “No, I think that it should be over here between the cabins.” He began and continued to dig test spots, after hitting some solid surface with a probe. At each location he unearthed a good many rocks and stones, finding no tank. Rain came and sent him on his way until another day. The lawn looked like the woodchuck from the movie “Caddy Shack” had relocated here.
Friday the weather improved and he returned to dig again. This time I had started a hole where I thought the tank was. He took the hint and expanded the area, finding the tank and emptying its contents. He left the bill with Sandy and the lawn for me. Saturday morning I went out and proceeded to rake out the rocks and sod to fix the lawn. Really it all worked to my benefit as I needed some large stone to fill in the driveway, where heavy rain had created a shallow culvert. Of course removing the stone will make the next septic encounter easier too.
The day was bright with clean refreshing air, blown in by a west wind. I could hear a barrage of gunfire from time to time, as water fowlers ushered in the second season. Cormorants flew low over the River while Canada geese kept high in the air, avoiding any contact with the duck hunters. Through out the morning I listened to honking geese pass by, one flock after another. A strange sound caught my ear, a low guttural honk followed by a gurgled purr of sorts. I stood with my neck craned upward, scanning the sky to see the creator of the unusual sound. They sounded a bit like swans trying out a new tune. Finally a flock of brant appeared overhead flying in a V formation. At least thirty of them were gabbing back and forth as they traveled the shoreline towards the lake. As I said before the task at hand worked to my benefit, I got to see and hear something new.
This past week also gave me ample opportunity to get into the fields with my pup. She is only 9 months old and is doing exceptionally well for her age. She is responsible for putting some pheasants and woodcock into the freezer so far. Of course I have missed my share and she is not to blame. I think the following note that I sent to my friend, will set the story straight.
Hi Vic,
So, I am going to sell that shotgun you sold me 25 years ago! I hunted hard on the last day of the turkey season and finally intercepted a flock at noon. I drew down on a tom and fired. He hopped off of the ground and the flock split in two directions. All right; “I’ll just sit here and call one back.” An hour went by and not a bird showed up. So then, I figured that I would stalk back through the woods and the three ravines, I had already crossed once. Not a bird to be seen or a sound from one either. When I climbed over the last ravine, I saw two long necked red headed toms not forty yards away. One shot later from “your” faulty gun, nothing dropped again!
They ran to the open field over the rise. I chased after them and saw to my astonishment, “10” mature gobblers looking back at me within gun range. I shot twice more and once again nothing dropped. One flew to the creek while the others just sort of walked away! I stood motionless scanning the ground for a dead bird; surely I must have gotten one at such a close range…nope. Now I was down to two shotgun shells. To my surprise they did not flee across the open field, but opted to “hide” in the cattails by the creeks edge.
I hustled my butt, along with the two remaining shells loaded in the inaccurate Remington 870, down to the edge of the marsh. Suddenly a bunch of glowing red headed gobblers set a striking pre-flight pose. As they began to clamor for space to get airborne the air was full of beating wings. I drew down on one and it collapsed into the reeds. My second shot found nothing but a big hole of empty space between the fleeing toms.
I seem to recall that you indicated a thirty year warranty on the accuracy of the product? I will be sending it back to you for a replacement or a “full” refund. Now you may be asking yourself; “How was that same shotgun able to drop teal in front of your lab while we hunted Braddock’s Bay in front of “Lonesome George’s.” At this point I think that you were the one actually doing the shooting and hypnotized me into believing that I could hit those little ducks. Nice TRY!
Now on to other matters; How has you’re water fowling been to date? I have yet to dedicate a day to it, as my truck is off the road and in need of repair. Also the River has been in a “mood swing” for the last two weeks. Wind has been out of the west, east or north with rising waves. My new Britt has been doing well; she has gotten me 5 pheasants and two woodcock to date. Don’t get excited, I used my other shotgun, the over/under that I bought from Rabjohn in Hamlin, you’re still on the hook…
Mike
Vic’ replies; I would be more than glad to take the faulty gun back. I know how you take care of your guns. I believe I can double my money back on the gun! Maybe you should consider a small scope for your gun (author’s note; sure now he wants to sell me a scope and is indicating that I can’t see!). He continues; just the other day it took me two shots to kill one duck; I guess that I should have blamed the gun. I said to myself at age 70 maybe my eyes aren’t what they used to be. Concerning the picture of the turkey, did you go home and change guns, are you sure you didn’t flock shoot?
Duck season has been real bad, after the youth day all of the ducks were gone. I went over to “lonesome George’s” and set up. Opening day and I saw just two ducks all morning, Sunday I never saw a one. There were a couple of shots on the bay and that was it. Well have a nice day and be sure to return the “faulty” gun.
Vic
Vic is 70! Really… he does not look a day over 69. You would think that a mature individual would be less sarcastic. Of course I would never tell Vic my sentiments. He still makes the best smoked salmon on the planet and I would not want to jeopardize our “firm” relationship over a petty issue like an old shotgun. Who am I to cast aside a life long friendship over a few missed turkeys? As they say; “the way to a mans heart is through his stomach.” I concur…
Mike LaDue Monday, October 24, 2011
No comments:
Post a Comment