The man who got me into hunting (my father) and I got to go out on our first hunt since before I moved to Alberta 12 years ago. He hunted for decades on PEI but has since given it up to chase birds on the golf course instead (doesn't have to clean those ones says he).
As usual, whenever the two of us attempt anything, it rapidly becomes a royal clusterf**k. Got the dekes set out and it starts with what seemed like a good omen when Dad let rip at the first flock of birds to come through after legal light and knocked down 3 bluebill with the one shot. Then it went into comedic mode as we always ended up looking the wrong way and being buzzed by birds that weren't there a second ago. His shooting went to crap after the first smash and mine didn't end up much better.
At one point a mallard zipped by and we both fired. Suddenly, Dad wasn't beside me any more. I thought he had ducked down for some reason and so I continued with a second shot at the bird, bringing it down but still able to swim.
I look over and lo and behold, the old man isn't in the boat anymore -- sort of.
His feet still are.
He's got his knees hooked over the gunwales while the rest of him is floating in the marsh.
I ask, "You OK?"
He replies, "Yeah."
I say, "Good. I'll get you once I finish this duck." and promptly water swat the greenheaded rat before struggling to haul my father's sodden and flopping arse back into the boat.
The FIRST was the fact that after hunting for more than 40 years on PEI, Dad finally shot his first ever goose. A pair came in and I knocked the first one down and as the other was leaving, Dad smoked it in the head and neck and set it doing the "funky chicken". The one I hit still had its head up so I asked Dad to finish it.
He said the sunlight tricked him.
I think he's lying and was just getting even for leaving him in the water.
Anyway instead of the goose he pounded one of my Bigfoot floaters --
Bastard.
Ended the day with 17 birds. 3 Geese, 4 Mallards, 4 Bluebills, 2 Canvasback, 1 Redhead, 1 Gadwall, 1 Wigeon, and 1 Bluewing Teal.
As usual, whenever the two of us attempt anything, it rapidly becomes a royal clusterf**k. Got the dekes set out and it starts with what seemed like a good omen when Dad let rip at the first flock of birds to come through after legal light and knocked down 3 bluebill with the one shot. Then it went into comedic mode as we always ended up looking the wrong way and being buzzed by birds that weren't there a second ago. His shooting went to crap after the first smash and mine didn't end up much better.
At one point a mallard zipped by and we both fired. Suddenly, Dad wasn't beside me any more. I thought he had ducked down for some reason and so I continued with a second shot at the bird, bringing it down but still able to swim.
I look over and lo and behold, the old man isn't in the boat anymore -- sort of.
His feet still are.
He's got his knees hooked over the gunwales while the rest of him is floating in the marsh.
I ask, "You OK?"
He replies, "Yeah."
I say, "Good. I'll get you once I finish this duck." and promptly water swat the greenheaded rat before struggling to haul my father's sodden and flopping arse back into the boat.
The FIRST was the fact that after hunting for more than 40 years on PEI, Dad finally shot his first ever goose. A pair came in and I knocked the first one down and as the other was leaving, Dad smoked it in the head and neck and set it doing the "funky chicken". The one I hit still had its head up so I asked Dad to finish it.
He said the sunlight tricked him.
I think he's lying and was just getting even for leaving him in the water.
Anyway instead of the goose he pounded one of my Bigfoot floaters --
Bastard.
Ended the day with 17 birds. 3 Geese, 4 Mallards, 4 Bluebills, 2 Canvasback, 1 Redhead, 1 Gadwall, 1 Wigeon, and 1 Bluewing Teal.
