A few weeks ago, I went on my first guided waterfowl hunt, and I'll never forget it. The reasons why the trip was so memorable however, were not the reasons you might guess. It was both a negative and an enjoyable experience at the same time, for reasons I'll explain in a minute. First I need to give a little detail as to how the trip came to be, which will help you understand why I was so angry, that my wife wisely advised me to cool-off for a few weeks before uploading my fury to the internet!
I'll try to keep this succinct and to the point. My father has terminal lung cancer. He was mentor to my brother and I for all things, and we spent the majority of our childhood outdoors. He taught us to fish, hunt, build a lean-too, tie knots, fight with words when we could, and our fists when we had to. The three of us had been out hunting together innumerable times, but had never been on a guided hunt. He talked about the idea from time to time - of how nice it would be to go out just once, and have all of the work done for us so that we could just enjoy the best part of the hunt together. We laughed at him and said that it was just plain lazy, but dad said it would be just like eating dessert without having to go through supper first. We didn't have the money to go when we were younger, then university, marriage and kids of our own came along, and the guided hunt was just one of those little fantasies that got swept under the rug.
A few months ago, dad surprised my brother and I with a guided waterfowl hunt in Walkerton, Ontario. He was too sick to go himself, but wanted my brother and I to go together while he was still around so he could hear the stories and enjoy some of the spoils of the hunt. He told us to think of him every time we stood up to blast away!
We met up with our guide at the Best Western in Walkerton, Ontario on the Friday night before the hunt. The folks at the Best Western welcomed us immediately and were especially friendly when they learned that we were there with the outfitter group that we had chosen. It was obvious that our guide took the time to cultivate relationships with anyone who would be doing business with his clients. When he arrived at the hotel, he greeted us like old friends and made us feel at home. He is an immediately approachable and likeable guy, and a truly professional gentleman. We went over the details of the following morning and he told us where the best places in town to get a bite and a drink were. Before leaving, he informed the hotel staff that we'd be leaving at 4:45am, and they said they'd have breakfast ready by 4:15.
When we arrived at the field, there were a few more vehicles than I expected. Our guide had lead us to the field and once there got out of his truck to talk to the people in the other vehicles. After a few minutes, it became apparent that he was arguing with them. He came over to us and explained that Brandon, our guide for the day, had been at the field since 4:00, setting up the blind and decoys. The group were with another outfitting, and they arrived at the field around 5:00. Even though Brandon had been there and set up before they arrived, the other hunters refused to hunt another field. Due to the fact that the other outfitting company's owner had permission to hunt that field extending from when our guide used to work with them. Due to circumstances that are none of my business, they had a falling out and our guide started his own company. We had no way to get rid of them, other than to appeal to their sense of decency and propriety, which failed.
As dawn broke, the birds started flying - and my God, there were a lot of them. 200-300 birds to a flock, and they just kept coming! The only problem was that the other group had set up about 300 yards away, between us and the birds. Every time a flock came from the lake to the field, they set down on their party, and dropped like flies. Not a single bird came close to us. As the sun came up and the birds went down, I was suddenly glad that dad hadn't been able to make it. It would have made him sick. We figured that after a while, the other party would have the decency to let a few flocks by and share in the wealth of birds that were flying (we saw a total of 2000-3000 birds by noon), but that wasn't the case. My dad had spent good money on that hunt, expecting us to come back to him with birds and stories, but instead, we would return with a frustrating story that would break his heart.
It was around the time that we were most frustrated by the ignorance of the other group, as well as their hunters (our party agreed unilaterally that if we had been in the group, we'd have demanded our guides take us to an unoccupied field), that pigeons began to fly out of a nearby barn. Strangely enough, they unvaryingly flew past our position just as flocks of ducks and geese were descending on the other party. We didn't want to go home empty handed, so we fired on the pigeons every time. Our marksmanship wasn't up to snuff that day however, and we only hit a single bird. Sadly, the pigeon's timing and our resulting fire ended in the unfortunate spooking of each subsequent flock that descended on the ther party. I suppose that's the downside of a crowded field. But as dad had requested, we thought of him while I blasted away - And we were SMILING!
It’s too bad that all of the hard work and expert calling that Brandon put into our hunt came to no avail. All of the outfitter's staff went above and beyond, delivering coffee, pizza, and an extra case of shells so we could try again for damned illusive pigeons. The owner even comped the other guys in our group a free hunt the next day to make up for it. My brother and I couldn't stay, but he offered us a free hunt next fall. What a class act! The actions of an irresponsible party are not his fault, but he made good on his own dime regardless.
In the end, we didn't have birds to bring home to dad. I briefly considered stopping at Zehr's and grabbing a duck to serve as a prop with which to give him a better story, but without pictures it wouldn't have worked. Besides, I have yet to tell him a lie that hasn't resulted in a boxed ear. Instead, we gave him a story about a whole lot of lucky pigeons, and that made him smile, too.
I'll try to keep this succinct and to the point. My father has terminal lung cancer. He was mentor to my brother and I for all things, and we spent the majority of our childhood outdoors. He taught us to fish, hunt, build a lean-too, tie knots, fight with words when we could, and our fists when we had to. The three of us had been out hunting together innumerable times, but had never been on a guided hunt. He talked about the idea from time to time - of how nice it would be to go out just once, and have all of the work done for us so that we could just enjoy the best part of the hunt together. We laughed at him and said that it was just plain lazy, but dad said it would be just like eating dessert without having to go through supper first. We didn't have the money to go when we were younger, then university, marriage and kids of our own came along, and the guided hunt was just one of those little fantasies that got swept under the rug.
A few months ago, dad surprised my brother and I with a guided waterfowl hunt in Walkerton, Ontario. He was too sick to go himself, but wanted my brother and I to go together while he was still around so he could hear the stories and enjoy some of the spoils of the hunt. He told us to think of him every time we stood up to blast away!
We met up with our guide at the Best Western in Walkerton, Ontario on the Friday night before the hunt. The folks at the Best Western welcomed us immediately and were especially friendly when they learned that we were there with the outfitter group that we had chosen. It was obvious that our guide took the time to cultivate relationships with anyone who would be doing business with his clients. When he arrived at the hotel, he greeted us like old friends and made us feel at home. He is an immediately approachable and likeable guy, and a truly professional gentleman. We went over the details of the following morning and he told us where the best places in town to get a bite and a drink were. Before leaving, he informed the hotel staff that we'd be leaving at 4:45am, and they said they'd have breakfast ready by 4:15.
When we arrived at the field, there were a few more vehicles than I expected. Our guide had lead us to the field and once there got out of his truck to talk to the people in the other vehicles. After a few minutes, it became apparent that he was arguing with them. He came over to us and explained that Brandon, our guide for the day, had been at the field since 4:00, setting up the blind and decoys. The group were with another outfitting, and they arrived at the field around 5:00. Even though Brandon had been there and set up before they arrived, the other hunters refused to hunt another field. Due to the fact that the other outfitting company's owner had permission to hunt that field extending from when our guide used to work with them. Due to circumstances that are none of my business, they had a falling out and our guide started his own company. We had no way to get rid of them, other than to appeal to their sense of decency and propriety, which failed.
As dawn broke, the birds started flying - and my God, there were a lot of them. 200-300 birds to a flock, and they just kept coming! The only problem was that the other group had set up about 300 yards away, between us and the birds. Every time a flock came from the lake to the field, they set down on their party, and dropped like flies. Not a single bird came close to us. As the sun came up and the birds went down, I was suddenly glad that dad hadn't been able to make it. It would have made him sick. We figured that after a while, the other party would have the decency to let a few flocks by and share in the wealth of birds that were flying (we saw a total of 2000-3000 birds by noon), but that wasn't the case. My dad had spent good money on that hunt, expecting us to come back to him with birds and stories, but instead, we would return with a frustrating story that would break his heart.
It was around the time that we were most frustrated by the ignorance of the other group, as well as their hunters (our party agreed unilaterally that if we had been in the group, we'd have demanded our guides take us to an unoccupied field), that pigeons began to fly out of a nearby barn. Strangely enough, they unvaryingly flew past our position just as flocks of ducks and geese were descending on the other party. We didn't want to go home empty handed, so we fired on the pigeons every time. Our marksmanship wasn't up to snuff that day however, and we only hit a single bird. Sadly, the pigeon's timing and our resulting fire ended in the unfortunate spooking of each subsequent flock that descended on the ther party. I suppose that's the downside of a crowded field. But as dad had requested, we thought of him while I blasted away - And we were SMILING!
It’s too bad that all of the hard work and expert calling that Brandon put into our hunt came to no avail. All of the outfitter's staff went above and beyond, delivering coffee, pizza, and an extra case of shells so we could try again for damned illusive pigeons. The owner even comped the other guys in our group a free hunt the next day to make up for it. My brother and I couldn't stay, but he offered us a free hunt next fall. What a class act! The actions of an irresponsible party are not his fault, but he made good on his own dime regardless.
In the end, we didn't have birds to bring home to dad. I briefly considered stopping at Zehr's and grabbing a duck to serve as a prop with which to give him a better story, but without pictures it wouldn't have worked. Besides, I have yet to tell him a lie that hasn't resulted in a boxed ear. Instead, we gave him a story about a whole lot of lucky pigeons, and that made him smile, too.
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