I spent last weekend in Northern Wisconsin. I hunted ducks, cleared some brush, got some odd jobs in, did some scouting, looked for grouse.
Saturday morning was the stuff of legends. Cloudy sky. Heavy winds. Black silhouettes of migrating birds whipping over head, across the decoys, and sometimes appearing from nowhere. I bagged a drake wood duck and a drake gadwall. Beautiful birds. The flight was done by 8:30 and we moved on with the day. On another lake I tried to stalk a flock of woodies, but I was forsaken by the wind dying down 60 yards from where they were floating.
Cutting brush and splitting wood is cathartic work. Hard on the body, but bt golly it feels good.
Norman Maclean wrote about the relationship between grace and trout, something that was on my mind as it was the last day of Wisconsin's inland trout season, and I had some considerations of heading out. It is fall, the days are shorter, and it is hunting season. My continued pursuit of trout will have to wait about 10 weeks. We went for a walk looking for the ruffed grouse a.k.a. partridge. My brother prefers to refer to them as ptarmigan. I can't help but relate Maclean's words to the pursuit of partridge. To bag a partridge you truly need a Goldilocks moment. I work hard for trout, I work hard for partridge, but do you ever really truly deserve to catch or bag them? They pop out of no where and if you are not prepared you will jump about 5 feet before you can get your shotgun up. I can't help but feel lucky every time I bag a grouse. So yeah, I didn't get a grouse, but I had fun finding them.
Next morning, ring bills. Sunny. Fog on the water. Wind still. You could hear ducks flying in always before you could see them. There was also a Hooded Merganser seen and missed, the first I've seen this fall.
I went out Monday after work close to home. I saw all of 4 ducks during shooting hours. Then shooting hours ended and I saw about 100 mallards fly in. They know better.
