Post #20 - "Cutest Couple around Town"

Prior to the times of frozen ground and icy temps, and even back a “decade” ago (insert Dad joke here"), the ducks were taking to the sky and pushing onwards to warmer climates and a southerly direction.  While having earned the title of “waterfowler” from my marathon weekend in Ely back in September of the same year (2019), I had very little prospects of being able to successfully harvest another duck.  The various times I’d gone out there had been very few sightings of the birds, and if such sightings were to be had they often were of sky high birds who had no intention of ever coming down from their beastly height.  Such is an issue I’ve come to find in waterfowling, that the birds themselves have a strong upper hand in determining the outcome of a chance encounter against us hunters.  Though the season was still in full swing and I being down from my Northern zone and into the Central zone as I was back home at the parent’s place in Kettle River, I had my sights set on filling my game pouch with some grouse and possibly a bushel of squirrels as well.  The setting for my adventure afield that beginning of November took place in an area relatively known to me from the water, but as for the forest lands that surrounded it, they were foreign and an uncharted map.  Sight set, and General Andrew’s State Forest my playground for the afternoon.

Without giving away clearly obvious details describing exactly where I was at, because let’s be honest, all hunter’s have their stash of “gems” for hunting grounds and those have been earned through time, effort, and being shown them by others who have gone before them.  Needless to say, this area I was in had been showed to me in the past by others with much more experience, but that pertained only to the lake aspect, and here I was more invested in combing along the lake shore but also had a particular interest in kicking it along a dusty and sandy logging road with giant pines on either side.  These woods I felt could hold a vast amount of squirrels, as well as the logging aspect to attract grouse into, as they tend to appreciate newly logged areas as well as areas with small rocks/pebbles available to help crush their food within their crop. 

Arriving to the area I was furnished in my bright blaze orange vest and camouflage sweatshirt, blue jeans, and dark green mud boots, I looked more like a man who’d gone to leisurely hunt, but I had already logged miles this season in such gear and was loaded up with enough shotgun shells to fend off a zombie outbreak.  I took out Krieg and loaded him with 3 shells, and made my way combing along the shoreline and over to where I often set up for duck hunting, thinking I could perhaps stumble across a duck out on the water.  To no surprise, there was none to be found and I continued along my way along the shore and making my way up towards the logging road and the thickness of the untamed forest surrounding it.  As I wound my way through the tangle of branches everywhere, I took some time to smell the pines, and feeling the way the cooler air felt as it was one of the last times I’d more than likely be out here before the lake fully froze over and the ground covered in snow once again. 

I often wonder what it would be like to live in southern states and to never experience snow and winter to the extreme that northern MN has, but that idea goes out the window simply because I could never imagine being without the cold weather life.  It has grown to be a part of me as much as anything else in life.  We live and die by the winter months, are tested by it to our very core and resolve.  To take that away would be like removing the essence of what makes a flower beautiful, it would simply cause it to wither shrivel and die away.

Such thoughts tend to be on my mind when out walking around hunting and exploring new territory and forest lands.  Never sure where my mind will take me, I snapped back from my temporary dream state and found that I’d come to a new crossroads on my logging trail.  For the way forward had a large sign stating that it was private land, but to the right and continuing down this logging road led to a flooded road alongside the shoreline of what looked to be a small lake.  Never one for purposefully crossing into private property, I decided to continue down the logging road and away from the “No Trespassing” signs that hung all about, and thought the shoreline might hold something of particular interest to me. 

Not having to go far, I meandered down the hill of the trail and instantly rose Krieg up to shooting position, for right below me in the shallows of the shoreline was a lone bird.  Quickly making a positive ID and determining it was a legal duck, I found it just beyond my neon sight bead and slowly pulled back on my left index finger.

“Blaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmm!”

The concussion of my shot echoing amongst the trees and after the shot I could see that I’d put bb’s on target and that my bird was crippled and slowly swimming away with their webbed feet. Seeing this and not wanting a repeat of Ely and stripping down to the skivvs again, especially with the cool water I don’t think my boys would ever descend. I quickly raised Krieg once more and aimed at the duck.

“Blaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmmm!”

This second shot was the one that ended the swimming, for the duck lay floating on the water now and only a merely 3 feet from shore.  Finding a stick of a solid and sturdy nature, I waded out a few steps and worked the duck back in with the stick until I had a firm grasp on its neck and lifted it from the cool water.  It happened to be a Ringneck hen, my first of the species and my second duck lifetime.  I was absolutely blown away because I had no intention of running into a duck in these pine woods, and especially not with being very visible with blue jeans and a blaze orange vest on (perhaps my duck hunting success comes from wearing such gear and not the traditional full camouflage?).  Regardless of the odds at play, I was thankful for being handed such an opportunity to explore new land and to be able to come home with some fresh duck for the kitchen table.  This hen meant as much to me as my first, and continues to stoke my newfound passion of waterfowling, and progressing me along the ranks from greenhorn to budding amateur. 

Goes to show that despite what you feel you’ll encounter on a hunt will often times be the far opposite, especially in those wild squirrel woods.

Voted “Cutest Couple Around Town” - Kettle River, 2019

Krieg and duck #2 lifetime - Central Duck Zone 2019

Ty G. Anderson

February 7th | 2020