Official 2013-2014 WFF East Coast Traveler

[The Duck Hammer]

Leg two of Sammy's, aka Stephen's, journey started with him perched on my truck while getting prepped for the trip to the family farm.

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He is now sleeping with some mallard pintail and widgeon friends awaiting the morning.

Since you have both travelers, post a pic of the seagull mounting the DHC traveler

That would be hilarious.

[Woody]

Leg two of Sammy's, aka Stephen's, journey started with him perched on my truck while getting prepped for the trip to the family farm.

image.jpg

He is now sleeping with some mallard pintail and widgeon friends awaiting the morning.

Since you have both travelers, post a pic of the seagull mounting the DHC traveler

That would be hilarious.

After Stephen has had his way with the puddlers I will see if he has enough energy to entertain old ginger.

[Olly]

Good luck! Take lots of pictures.

[Woody]

Leg Two... Morning One: "A rough start with Stephen Seagul"

As to be expected, Sammy's trip to SW Michigan went off without a hitch. :sarcmark:

Saturday morning we started out by finding that a skunk had set up a homestead under my truck, which was parked in the barn. Naturally cautious of ruining opening morning with a stink that was sure to last for days, I adorned the appropriate armor to battle my fire breathing foe (an orange America's Cup sailing suit).



In the dark and like a Medieval Knight, I pranced around the beast's red cave beating on the walls.



In hopes of scaring it out in to the open, at which time I could strategically make my move… promptly running into the house and cowering by the window. Where I would watch and wait for it to leave on its own accord. My plan worked nearly flawlessly, it scared the smelly dragon from underneath my trusty steed, but it made an abrupt U turn and headed deeper into the barn. My wise old man and I retreated for a short moment to plan our next move. With attack plans drawn up, I unsheathed my weapon of choice and made my move. Slinking around the door and peaking in through the windows. I was slashing through the darkness with my club like MagLite; hoping to catch the shine of his eyes in a distant corner, providing me with the confidence of a clear path. Seeing no eyes, I shook off the fear, took a deep breath and sprinted for the driver side door. I swiftly reached my truck and quickly jumped inside, only to realize my keys were not there. They were still sitting on the dresser inside the house. I quickly made my way back out of the barn and inside. Leaving my dad standing watch, to make sure the devil didn't return to its new home. Returning seconds later and having my dad reassure me that he had not scurried back to his place of residence. I took just a quick glance into the darkness with my flashlight and made a second mad dash, jumped inside, turned the key and quickly pulled the truck and boat and gear out into the yard, doing my very best to avoid anything getting a wicked spray... I and the gear came out unscathed and victorious.

Now already 10 minutes late leaving, my dad, Todd (my childhood friend and college roommate, who took the absent Botiz's place in the blind), and I made our way down the road to our destination with high hopes of a successful hunt in hand. Now the morning throws us another curve ball; we find this at the public (or so we thought) boat launch.

sign.jpg

Seriously confused and a little pissed off we climbed back in to the truck and scrambled to come up with a plan B. Trying to decide between a public land spot we try to avoid hunting and a late season private land spot (neither of which held much promise this time of year). My dad spoke up and said “call Ed.” Ed is a guy I met while hunting this location on the river a couple years ago during early goose season and had hunted with a couple time since. So, I dialed him up to see what he had to say. He told us of a new "boat launch" he had made the weekend before after stumbling across this sign himself. Apparently some D*** had decided he didn't want people hunting that stretch of the river and purchased the boat launch from the county, to stop us.

After all that we set out on our journey down river. With two of us paddling our old 12 foot flat bottom and one of us taking a kayak. We had accidentally forgotten to pack a third kayak for Todd and were forced to paddle this row boat a mile up and down the river. Mind you this was the boat we capsized not so many years ago. So, on top of being a pain in the azz, I was starting out into the darkness a little uneasy. Thirty-five minutes of near hell later, we reached our destination. Threw out the decoys and settled into our newly refurbished blind. Not long after we had sat down the magnificent show began. With the sun starting to rise, the sounds of hundreds of woodies, dozens of teal and a hundred and fifty or so mallards began to ring out from their nearby roosting locations.

IMG_1232.jpg

image.jpg

To Be Continued...

[Eric Haynes]

Leg Two... Morning One: "A rough start with Stephen Seagul"

As to be expected, Sammy's trip to SW Michigan went off without a hitch. :sarcmark:

Saturday morning we started out by finding that a skunk had set up a homestead under my truck, which was parked in the barn. Naturally cautious of ruining opening morning with a stink that was sure to last for days, I adorned the appropriate armor to battle my fire breathing foe (an orange America's Cup sailing suit).



In the dark and like a Medieval Knight, I pranced around the beast's red cave beating on the walls.



In hopes of scaring it out in to the open, at which time I could strategically make my move… promptly running into the house and cowering by the window. Where I would watch and wait for it to leave on its own accord. My plan worked nearly flawlessly, it scared the smelly dragon from underneath my trusty steed, but it made an abrupt U turn and headed deeper into the barn. My wise old man and I retreated for a short moment to plan our next move. With attack plans drawn up, I unsheathed my weapon of choice and made my move. Slinking around the door and peaking in through the windows. I was slashing through the darkness with my club like MagLite; hoping to catch the shine of his eyes in a distant corner, providing me with the confidence of a clear path. Seeing no eyes, I shook off the fear, took a deep breath and sprinted for the driver side door. I swiftly reached my truck and quickly jumped inside, only to realize my keys were not there. They were still sitting on the dresser inside the house. I quickly made my way back out of the barn and inside. Leaving my dad standing watch, to make sure the devil didn't return to its new home. Returning seconds later and having my dad reassure me that he had not scurried back to his place of residence. I took just a quick glance into the darkness with my flashlight and made a second mad dash, jumped inside, turned the key and quickly pulled the truck and boat and gear out into the yard, doing my very best to avoid anything getting a wicked spray... I and the gear came out unscathed and victorious.

Now already 10 minutes late leaving, my dad, Todd (my childhood friend and college roommate, who took the absent Botiz's place in the blind), and I made our way down the road to our destination with high hopes of a successful hunt in hand. Now the morning throws us another curve ball; we find this at the public (or so we thought) boat launch.

sign.jpg

Seriously confused and a little pissed off we climbed back in to the truck and scrambled to come up with a plan B. Trying to decide between a public land spot we try to avoid hunting and a late season private land spot (neither of which held much promise this time of year). My dad spoke up and said “call Ed.” Ed is a guy I met while hunting this location on the river a couple years ago during early goose season and had hunted with a couple time since. So, I dialed him up to see what he had to say. He told us of a new "boat launch" he had made the weekend before after stumbling across this sign himself. Apparently some D*** had decided he didn't want people hunting that stretch of the river and purchased the boat launch from the county, to stop us.

After all that we set out on our journey down river. With two of us paddling our old 12 foot flat bottom and one of us taking a kayak. We had accidentally forgotten to pack a third kayak for Todd and were forced to paddle this row boat a mile up and down the river. Mind you this was the boat we capsized not so many years ago. So, on top of being a pain in the azz, I was starting out into the darkness a little uneasy. Thirty-five minutes of near hell later, we reached our destination. Threw out the decoys and settled into our newly refurbished blind. Not long after we had sat down the magnificent show began. With the sun starting to rise, the sounds of hundreds of woodies, dozens of teal and a hundred and fifty or so mallards began to ring out from their nearby roosting locations.

IMG_1232.jpg

image.jpg

To Be Continued...

Way to make me look lazy with a write up like that. Want to come with me next year when the decoy is with me? I'll put you on the birds, you just do the write up for me.

[The Duck Hammer]

Impressive write up.

[Woody]

Leg Two... Morning One... Part 2...

Almost instantly after the shooting time (7:18 am) the first group flew by. We had already decided we wanted to watch some of the show and use them as a teaching experience to explain some of the finer details, as this was Todd's first real duck hunt (the last one I took him on as well, but it was only my second year chasing these waterfowl we all love so much, and the only thing on the sling when we left was a raccoon that I had shot as it tried to attack my dog Libby). After watching 10 or so large flocks either fly by or land and then leave, on the next flock we made the call... "Cut'Em"... Okay I wish we were that cool. I said "lets take these two" and all three of us nodded our heads and jumped up. Two birds fell, a drake and a hen woody (the hen being Todd's first duck). We took one more woody about 10 or 15 minutes later.

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After that it slowed down a bit. As we waited for ducks to come in to loaf after eating, we decided to eat some breakfast. ourselves. I was a little warm, so a few bites in I decided to stand up and take off my jacket (it went from 38* to 89* while we were out there, but I will cover that later). I glanced over at the decoys and one of the decoys looked quite small... then it moved... a duck had caught us off guard. I whispered, "duck in the decoys, move slow and grab your guns." When all were in position, I made the call. The bird took flight... I missed, Todd missed and quickly he was out of range. To our surprise and delight he swung back around and came zipping over the blind, my dad made an amazing shot and took our only teal for the day.

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We quickly finished our breakfast and got rearranged for what was promising to be a great opener. The sun had fully risen now, so I took the chance to snap some pictures of Sammy in his element.

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To be continued...

[Woody]

While camera in hand, my dad nudged my shoulder... Ducks 10 o'clock... We all hunkered down and readied our guns. They set their wings at 60 yards, no circling, standing there hunched over and excited, just as excited as I was the first time I witnessed cupped wings, I watched what we all dread... The birds flared. This sadly, quickly became a trend. Flock after flock, we watched as birds flared just out of range. After 15 or so gave us the stink eye it became glaringly obvious what our problem was... A flaw in our blind, no cover for the shooting hole, a problem we had thought might show its ugly head. We planned on putting a lid of some sort on it, but ran out of time. Life gets in the way, you know, plus the blind is hours from home for all of us, so it is hard to get out there and work on it. We stuck around and scratched out three more Woodrow's over the next couple hours. One of which, not toot my own horn, I put a sick move on. We had got distracted joking around and laughing when out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a drake woody skirting the edge of the decoys almost out of range. With one fowl swoop I jumped to my feet, grabbed my gun, and started to say, "Shoot that duck." Before I finished the word ‘that,’ the duck had crumpled over and was headed for the drink. I stepped back and finished my sentence "at duck." My blind-mates, part startled and part excited, simultaneously said "holy bleep."

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We decided to call it quits and took a second opportunity for a photo shoot, but of a different kind. As the temperature had reached the high eighties, scorching for a Michigan duck shoot, I had finished out the morning dressed in what I have come to assume (after the Indabro "warts" photos), is business as usual for my coonazz waterfowl brothers…

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shirtless in some waders, of course I capitalized on the opportunity to do a “Rambo” pose.

After reaching the truck and loading up gear, Todd turned to us and asked if we were going out tomorrow.
I said, “of course.”
He quickly asked, “Do you mind if I tag along again?”
I Paused….. “I don’t know…. Yeah you’re welcome anytime.”

Here's Todd in all his glory, holding his first duck (and some extras)

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Leg two, Day two to come later…

[The Duck Hammer]

[Woody]

Leg Two... Morning Two... “THE ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY”

Sunday morning started out much easier than Saturday morning, maybe we had shook off all the opening morning dust. However Sunday morning started Saturday night. Because Todd is now addicted and asked to go again, we had to change up our plans and return to the same blind we used the day before. The place we were planning to go would not fit more than two hunters. Learning from the morning’s hunt we decided to make the doors for the shooting hole. We went with an altered version of what I had seen on an episode on DU TV a few months back. Here is what we came up with… (View looking up at it from inside the blind)

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It is made from rusty fencing bent into a dome and held down/hinged using nail in staples, then covered with grass. We took these and the normal gear back out in to the swamp Sunday morning. We decided to wait until the first morning lull to place the lids on the blind. So, we threw out the decoys and settled in again expecting a fairly similar morning, but without the flaring birds. The show started the same as the day before, about a half hour before first light the sound of distant feeding chuckles began to fill the air. Tired from lack of sleep, but still excited as humanly possible we sat there counting the Minutes and seconds… 10 minutes until shooting time… 5 minutes until shooting time… Then it happened!

Some Jack-a-loons come tearing in from upriver and takes a dogleg, heads right down the ditch and straight in to the location all the birds were roosting. Just like that, minutes before shooting time, our high hopes of a good day were slashed by the sound of distant whistling wings and silhouettes of birds flying by within reach but off limits. These guys continued right on down the river straight to where we were sitting. They went around the bend and wrapped around right up next to us on the opposite side of some grass. They started setting up and even with my flash light hitting them in the eyes from a mere 40 yards, they went on like nothing was wrong. They were now down river of us, JUST SLIGHTLY, and in perfect position to intercept any bird coming back to loaf later in the day. With their demeanor and poor calling, poor shooting, all around poor character, I am left to assume they pulled this stunt after watching us pull in the majority of the ducks the morning prior. Knowing that there was going to be no early morning success, we settled in for the long haul.

As expected these guys repeatedly shot at ducks as they circled our spread. They even did it with 3 separate geese who my dad worked his azz off for, with some beautiful calling, bringing them down from a mile high. Needless to say we worked hard for every duck that went home on the lanyard and in these conditions we were starting out the morning flustered and frustrated. Maybe we should not have let it get to us, but it did and our shooting skill and discipline suffered, missing shots or blowing chances on 5 or 6 flocks/singles. At the end of the morning we headed in with our tails between our legs and only three ducks on the lanyard...

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2 woodrows and 1 mallard
Although we were disappointed with the actions of our fellow hunters and our low numbers, we had a blast hanging out with old friends and family. The weekend was full of hard work, laughs, high fives, and good old fun. We got home just in time to unpack and head for bed. Here Sammy waits to be packaged and shipped to her next destination…

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I enjoyed my time with the rambler and look forward to doing it again sometime in the future, hopefully Titz can make it next time.

Good Luck John, I can't wait to see the photo we talked about

[Woody]

I was very tempted to take this, Olly.

I can only imagine that it could help out if we ever get boarded by the CG.

[jehler]

My lure!!!

[Woody]

My lure!!!

Oh no, maybe that was supposed to be a surprise.

[The Duck Hammer]

My lure!!!

Oh no, maybe that was supposed to be a surprise.

You ruined everything Woody!!!

[Olly]

Woody you can have it if you want. And John I have a box for you and Jr with all kinds of swag in it but you're a dick so I've been lazy mailing it.



Really I'm just forgetful.

[Woody]

Woody you can have it if you want. And John I have a box for you and Jr with all kinds of swag in it but you're a dick so I've been lazy mailing it.



Really I'm just forgetful.

Snagged!

[Woody]

Leg Two... Morning One: "A rough start with Stephen Seagul"

As to be expected, Sammy's trip to SW Michigan went off without a hitch. :sarcmark:

Saturday morning we started out by finding that a skunk had set up a homestead under my truck, which was parked in the barn. Naturally cautious of ruining opening morning with a stink that was sure to last for days, I adorned the appropriate armor to battle my fire breathing foe (an orange America's Cup sailing suit).



In the dark and like a Medieval Knight, I pranced around the beast's red cave beating on the walls.



In hopes of scaring it out in to the open, at which time I could strategically make my move… promptly running into the house and cowering by the window. Where I would watch and wait for it to leave on its own accord. My plan worked nearly flawlessly, it scared the smelly dragon from underneath my trusty steed, but it made an abrupt U turn and headed deeper into the barn. My wise old man and I retreated for a short moment to plan our next move. With attack plans drawn up, I unsheathed my weapon of choice and made my move. Slinking around the door and peaking in through the windows. I was slashing through the darkness with my club like MagLite; hoping to catch the shine of his eyes in a distant corner, providing me with the confidence of a clear path. Seeing no eyes, I shook off the fear, took a deep breath and sprinted for the driver side door. I swiftly reached my truck and quickly jumped inside, only to realize my keys were not there. They were still sitting on the dresser inside the house. I quickly made my way back out of the barn and inside. Leaving my dad standing watch, to make sure the devil didn't return to its new home. Returning seconds later and having my dad reassure me that he had not scurried back to his place of residence. I took just a quick glance into the darkness with my flashlight and made a second mad dash, jumped inside, turned the key and quickly pulled the truck and boat and gear out into the yard, doing my very best to avoid anything getting a wicked spray... I and the gear came out unscathed and victorious.

Now already 10 minutes late leaving, my dad, Todd (my childhood friend and college roommate, who took the absent Botiz's place in the blind), and I made our way down the road to our destination with high hopes of a successful hunt in hand. Now the morning throws us another curve ball; we find this at the public (or so we thought) boat launch.

sign.jpg

Seriously confused and a little pissed off we climbed back in to the truck and scrambled to come up with a plan B. Trying to decide between a public land spot we try to avoid hunting and a late season private land spot (neither of which held much promise this time of year). My dad spoke up and said “call Ed.” Ed is a guy I met while hunting this location on the river a couple years ago during early goose season and had hunted with a couple time since. So, I dialed him up to see what he had to say. He told us of a new "boat launch" he had made the weekend before after stumbling across this sign himself. Apparently some D*** had decided he didn't want people hunting that stretch of the river and purchased the boat launch from the county, to stop us.

After all that we set out on our journey down river. With two of us paddling our old 12 foot flat bottom and one of us taking a kayak. We had accidentally forgotten to pack a third kayak for Todd and were forced to paddle this row boat a mile up and down the river. Mind you this was the boat we capsized not so many years ago. So, on top of being a pain in the azz, I was starting out into the darkness a little uneasy. Thirty-five minutes of near hell later, we reached our destination. Threw out the decoys and settled into our newly refurbished blind. Not long after we had sat down the magnificent show began. With the sun starting to rise, the sounds of hundreds of woodies, dozens of teal and a hundred and fifty or so mallards began to ring out from their nearby roosting locations.

IMG_1232.jpg

image.jpg

To Be Continued...

Way to make me look lazy with a write up like that. Want to come with me next year when the decoy is with me? I'll put you on the birds, you just do the write up for me.

Even though that was a joke, I certainly wouldn't say no.

[Eric Haynes]

Leg Two... Morning One: "A rough start with Stephen Seagul"

As to be expected, Sammy's trip to SW Michigan went off without a hitch. :sarcmark:

Saturday morning we started out by finding that a skunk had set up a homestead under my truck, which was parked in the barn. Naturally cautious of ruining opening morning with a stink that was sure to last for days, I adorned the appropriate armor to battle my fire breathing foe (an orange America's Cup sailing suit).



In the dark and like a Medieval Knight, I pranced around the beast's red cave beating on the walls.



In hopes of scaring it out in to the open, at which time I could strategically make my move… promptly running into the house and cowering by the window. Where I would watch and wait for it to leave on its own accord. My plan worked nearly flawlessly, it scared the smelly dragon from underneath my trusty steed, but it made an abrupt U turn and headed deeper into the barn. My wise old man and I retreated for a short moment to plan our next move. With attack plans drawn up, I unsheathed my weapon of choice and made my move. Slinking around the door and peaking in through the windows. I was slashing through the darkness with my club like MagLite; hoping to catch the shine of his eyes in a distant corner, providing me with the confidence of a clear path. Seeing no eyes, I shook off the fear, took a deep breath and sprinted for the driver side door. I swiftly reached my truck and quickly jumped inside, only to realize my keys were not there. They were still sitting on the dresser inside the house. I quickly made my way back out of the barn and inside. Leaving my dad standing watch, to make sure the devil didn't return to its new home. Returning seconds later and having my dad reassure me that he had not scurried back to his place of residence. I took just a quick glance into the darkness with my flashlight and made a second mad dash, jumped inside, turned the key and quickly pulled the truck and boat and gear out into the yard, doing my very best to avoid anything getting a wicked spray... I and the gear came out unscathed and victorious.

Now already 10 minutes late leaving, my dad, Todd (my childhood friend and college roommate, who took the absent Botiz's place in the blind), and I made our way down the road to our destination with high hopes of a successful hunt in hand. Now the morning throws us another curve ball; we find this at the public (or so we thought) boat launch.

sign.jpg

Seriously confused and a little pissed off we climbed back in to the truck and scrambled to come up with a plan B. Trying to decide between a public land spot we try to avoid hunting and a late season private land spot (neither of which held much promise this time of year). My dad spoke up and said “call Ed.” Ed is a guy I met while hunting this location on the river a couple years ago during early goose season and had hunted with a couple time since. So, I dialed him up to see what he had to say. He told us of a new "boat launch" he had made the weekend before after stumbling across this sign himself. Apparently some D*** had decided he didn't want people hunting that stretch of the river and purchased the boat launch from the county, to stop us.

After all that we set out on our journey down river. With two of us paddling our old 12 foot flat bottom and one of us taking a kayak. We had accidentally forgotten to pack a third kayak for Todd and were forced to paddle this row boat a mile up and down the river. Mind you this was the boat we capsized not so many years ago. So, on top of being a pain in the azz, I was starting out into the darkness a little uneasy. Thirty-five minutes of near hell later, we reached our destination. Threw out the decoys and settled into our newly refurbished blind. Not long after we had sat down the magnificent show began. With the sun starting to rise, the sounds of hundreds of woodies, dozens of teal and a hundred and fifty or so mallards began to ring out from their nearby roosting locations.

IMG_1232.jpg

image.jpg

To Be Continued...

Way to make me look lazy with a write up like that. Want to come with me next year when the decoy is with me? I'll put you on the birds, you just do the write up for me.

Even though that was a joke, I certainly wouldn't say no.

It was a joke, but true. Anyone is welcome to hunt with me anytime. You would definitely have to do the write up though.

[Feelin' Fowl]

Great write up Woody!

[Woody]

Sammy is on the way to John!

[jehler]

Sammy has arrived, he's getting ready for his first adventure right now

ImageUploadedByTapatalk1382102065.367529.jpg

[Olly]

Glad to see he's getting some blood on him.

[jehler]

ImageUploadedByTapatalk1382111726.124189.jpg

ImageUploadedByTapatalk1382111738.623919.jpg

[Redbeard]

Who is this unknown molesting Sammy?


#tazincali

[jehler]

Who is this unknown molesting Sammy?


#tazincali

little brother

[Redbeard]

Who is this unknown molesting Sammy?


#tazincali

little brother

different moms???


#tazincali

[Eric Haynes]

Who is this unknown molesting Sammy?


#tazincali

little brother

Never got the point of wearing waders in the truck.

Sent from my LG-L38C using Tapatalk 2

[jehler]

Who is this unknown molesting Sammy?


#tazincali

little brother

different moms???


#tazincali

yes, not sure about dad, we never took the blood test.... Long story

[jehler]

Who is this unknown molesting Sammy?


#tazincali

little brother

Never got the point of wearing waders in the truck.

Sent from my LG-L38C using Tapatalk 2

we were working today, pulling docks and hoist, in and out all day long so we wear em to work

[Redbeard]

Who is this unknown molesting Sammy?


#tazincali

little brother

different moms???


#tazincali

yes, not sure about dad, we never took the blood test.... Long story

whatever works. Few guys I consider my brothers who ain't blood kin


#tazincali