doublegunshop.com - home Forums General Discussion DoubleGun BBS @ doublegunshop.com Interest in duck shooting

...and it's guns, waterdogs and trappings seem to be at an all-time high today. Is this muck 'n jonboats a blacklash to tweed and style?
Are smallbores more chat than shot?
Or, perhaps other gamebirds are far and fewer these days.
Maybe a chilly morning in the blind is kinder to the ol'legs than steep hills and stubby fields.
Steel shot is bad news, but on the upsides, there are farm ponds, beaver ponds, lakes and sloughs that are close at hand for a day's brace or two.
How about this ol'bean?

Waterfowl hunting is great fun, all the gear, preparation, and anticipation. Only downer is the access to fields and waterways. And now the availability of bulk Bismuth? Randy

Early season woodies, Sterlingworth 12ga. 30" M/F (Shotgunjones now owns this SW)




Sept. goose hunt, Shooter sat this one out in the truck, only out for photo op. Sterlingworth 12ga. 28" M/F
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Lowell,

Smallbores must be just the thing. Even though I'm more noted for the 12-gauge 3-inch Super-Fox I've had since I was 17 (44 years), the last two ducks I shot were with a 32-inch barrel, 2-frame, 3-inch 20-gauge, Parker Bros. in 2004. Used Kent Tungston-matrix shells. Later that day my duck boat, a 12-foot cedar rowboat my Father built in 1939, was stolen. I haven't fired a shot at a waterfowl since. Would have shot one if I'd seen it today. Was out in the pouring rain looking for birds today, but had Bismuth shells in the old 16-gauge just in case a Duck came around. The only thing Skitso pointed today was a Porcupine. Fortunately she stayed a respectful distance.

Neither picture taken today!!!

There is nothing I enjoy more than taking my shotgun and faithful dog for a walk in the woods and flushing a grouse, woodcock or even a rabbit. The trouble is those woods open to hunting are much fewer than when I was young. All those country homes that border farm fields and stands of timber have filled some of the best thickets. From those homes extend a safety zone and there went some of the best small game spots.

Back to waterfowling… We scout our prey, arise at what often seems a few minutes after midnight, launch or boats or pull trailers into a field, set the decoys in accordance with whatever the wind may dictate, remain motionless in full camouflage including a facemask or face paint, and imitate the ducks with perfectly blown calls. During all this our faithful dogs lie at our sides. For most of us the shots, when we get them, aren’t easy. When we do bag a few ducks life is good. If we don’t we’ve still been hunting and akin with nature which is the important thing. If that included being in a duck boat we have faced mother nature and she let us return to our homes and families. If you hunt from a duck boat long enough you’ll have a few experiences that you’d like to forget.

Yes, waterfowling is complicated and for most of us better pursued as a group than alone. With others we find kindred spirits and enjoy their camaraderie. The seasoned fowlers guide the younger ones in their gunning. There are also many lessons in life passed on as we sit in our boats awaiting the ducks. For many of us this sport is much like a military operation or playing on a football team as we did but a few years ago. I’d like to think it is like are ancient ancestors hunting as a group to kill a mastodon.

As I write this I await an older fowler to give the okay that the ice has receded enough on Lake St Clair so that we may safely scull toward the rafts of Canvasbacks. To do so we’ll have to pull our sculling boats over a couple hundred yards of ice to reach open water. Our fowling of today shall not be much different than that of decades ago. Weather, boats, equipment, and friends. And if the weather requires sane persons to remain ashore our group shall meet to tell tales and discuss our next hunt.

Did you ever find the boat ?

Duck hunting is over now in my zone, but I'll be taking this Sterlingworth out tomorrow for a shot at a big fat goose.
Only a few reminder booms from the river lets me know, there are still some gents fowlin'.
Deer season is long over, peace and quiet has returned to the area - the birds fly from lake to lake without a care in the world. A nice way to end what was started way back in September.

Researcher. nothing takes the joy from hunting as much as people so low they'd steal a boat. Wooden skiffs as yours were common as trees on our shore, usually 12- and 14-footers made from spruce. They got pretty heavy. Fishermen used them for going to and from their moorings, flat-fishing, tending smelt nets after the "big boats" were hailed up for the winter, and gunning I never heard of one being stolen.

Now, everything's aluminum and there's a different crowd around. Generally speaking, I stay clear of them because of their sky-busting, failure to attempt or have means of retrieving, or consideration of others. Last fall, when I retrieved a bag of decoys where I usually cache them near a blind from one season to the next, they had been used for target practise. Those of us who live on the shore give the galoots a wide berth. They're easy to spot.

I brought our brethern's wrath on my head when I joined the board five-some years ago by saying that my peers and their fathers who I grew up with in a fishing village on the Eastern Shore were sportsmen compared to today's crowd although their subsistence living included discreet poaching for a week or two at the beginning and end of the hunting seasons. They were safe and prudent about their shots, scrupulous about retrieving, considerate of other gunners' space and needs.

Nothing has changed my mind. Musing on this the other day, I added another dimension to their notion of ethical living. Why do we obey? Our villagers knew the seasons. They had never seen a conservation officer or warden. (Nor have I in nearly 70 years of gunning.) Being "caught" was not an issue. Birds were a staple of winter diet. They were discreet, they didn't flaunt the law, the seas were wide expanses. What they took out of season was miniscule compared to the indiscrimiate losses and unretrived cripples I see within the season now.

The oldtimers made very small incursions on game law to supplement their diet when there was no law enforcement. There was no encroachment on mating or nesting. Compared to what I see so much of now, in terms of sportsmanship and need and respect for the birds, Charlie, Doug, Warren, Don, Percy, Monnie (Morris), Luther, Seldon, Isaac, Judson, Uncle John and the others were an example and a blessing. How I miss them!

Regards, King

Lowell show us something yOu killed with it.

King could you mail Lowell a duck or goose so he could do some photo opps ?

j0e, try posting every other day ol'sod, in that way, you could put together two sentences in one reply!
Think of the stir that'll cause.