HEADING WESTWARD BACK TO THE BEGINING

As the Indian summer had streak well into October and being alone for several weeks in the forest, I yearned for the open space of the Prairie. I would head west to find more Huns and Sharptail and visit with long time friends. And so I left the Northwood filled with wonderful memories, plenty of shooting and great ruffed dinners. I would head toward Alberta hunt the Praise again and pass through the States from the Canadian Rockies.

This drive is always special from sunrise to sunset. as the skies were alive with the constant flocks of geese staging for the south. I was in the area I wanted to hunt when there were no more blue phase geese just pure white Arctic geese. I was back in the the western flyway

FI had to stop by Lake Diefenbaker and catch some LUNKER rainbow trout on fly rods. For many years I have been camping by Diefenbaker hunting was superb and so was the fly fishing. I was ito my friends home for an evening of visiting, watching the world series or Corner Gas, catching up on the family and a home cooked meals. The rye flowed with pepsi as did the Molson or Pilzner. How grand these small town were and all over the province I was constantly being cooked for and entertained by the wonderful hospitality of the farming community. You see up here the hunter is a respected endeavouring

PUSHING INTO THE FORREST

To the Northwood’s.

I knew the forest grouse numbers were way up this year but the number were ridiclous and I often had to stop grouse shooting within the hour as not to exceed my limit of twenty. I enjoyed the quiet isolation of the deep forest impregnated with the scent of the black spruce and poplar trees. I could think of the French trappers and Jesuits who explore this land in the 16^th century and the vast numbers of fur animals that thrived in this lush place but mostly I dreamed of flushing ruffed grouse as they disappeared into the thick forest stands.

This habitat is where the German Wirehair Fe Rey thrives and excels. She can point or flush and will even point the tree the grouse lands in. She is an incredible dog after many years of hunting she is perfect for flushing and the retrieve of the ruffed.

I was up north of Flin Flon when the rain stopped. There were no hotels for a hundred miles and I was cozy in the Lance overlooking a lake filled with loons and song birds with the wolves howling at night. Within a minute or so I flushed a covey of ruffed. My new Holland and Holland Royal swung through the flush and the birds just continued to fly with it sortie. Not a good beginning but I would later learn to keep my head down on the Holland. Fe was off again into he bush and managed to flush to cock ruffed over me and the open bore Holland and Holland royal cut loose with a string of lead. She was on it quickly and brought it back to drop it at my feet. Fe would get and extra ration this evening.

Camping here is beyond explanation being alone in wild and pristine habitat where it could snow a foot over night. I knew I could handle anything except deep mud in the Ford Diesel with the extra weight of the Lance. The Lance was awesome totally self contained with dual batteries fuel by a new solar panel I installed. The queen size bed was perfect for a good night sleep and I could sleep comfortably even as the temp dipped below 0. I had my cabin the woods and the dogs as companions and I was experiencing the joys of the wild living off the harvest

IT RAINED DUCKS

This afternoon it rained green heads. The decoy spread stayed in the pea field after the morning shoot. Morning shoot had plenty of blues phase Arctic, giant Canada’s and few lesser. The coffin blinds worked wells but the 4 dozen big foot and light snow pulled them in. We would have duck and goose breast for supper in a Currituck sauce. Even the dogs where chomping their lips. The low clouds, impending snow where fast cutting across the flat prairies building in the south. It would be a good afternoon duck shoot. Who could have imagined what was to happen after lunch. The pea field comprised a half section near the Cree Res. The whites leased the land from the band and they were more than willing to let us hunt the fields for a piece of the action. They also enjoy ducks and geese feed on the grain fields but we stopped at giving away the whisky

Field peas, very high protein souce and soil nitrogen fixer, are a rotational crop as part of wheat cycle. After combining they are shipped to feed lots for cattle fattening and also to the Mid East for pulse, a staple in their diets. Migrating water fowl prefer these fields to barley and wheat.

One of my hunting friends was a southern man with an III as suffix to his name. He was fifth generation and could tell you which battle his ancestors fought in the “war of Northern aggression.” He was willing to take on the northern yankee flight of ducks with valor. By 4:30 a ight drizzle had begun and there were fifteen mallards down. By 5:30, a limit. The Winchester model 21 duck models handled the 3-inch bismuth with ease and birds fell from upwards of 50 yards. Most important was the dogs working to retrieve all the sailors’ birds. Belle found eight birds in the deep cover and her feet were almost bloody from the stubble in the next field where many ducks tried to escape to. She would come back with two ducks in her mouth

THE ISLAND BOYZ

My first day visiting Sykes was hard on the dogs. I had to chain them up in order to keep them from wandering the countryside . Something they were used to doing down on the Prairies. This was the parkland and the bush was loaded with whitetail. IT won't take much for the hunting dogs to stray.

When I arrived after a filling Fall dinner at Herndon, The Wheeler Island hunters belonged to a duck club down near the California Pacific coastal range. The were straight out of California , the north thank God and all had been duck hunting together for many years. They were very excited about having a natural gas field under their marsh. Although, they were not uber dog guys they had labs back home and one even managed to sneak a cute little springer in named Jack. Jack thought he had died and gone to dog heaven with all the birds.

The patrons were two fathers and their sons who were on a return trip with Sykes. Jim and Harold were the senior members of the group and I thought at first were brothers they way they related to each other. Harold’s son, Derik was the most forthright and engaging being very transparent and great winger shooter. Harold enjoyed his duck shooting but it was the spicy “Bloody Marys" made by Derik that set the tone with Jim curing his mallard breast in a tasty jell sauce. After the morning shoot and a bloody Mary this crew spent the remainder of the morning hand cleaning ALL their birds for transport back home. They reaped the cornucopia of game.

At once, I held these hunters apart from the other American I have been with and hunted with who so often come and go with little respect for the game they harvest. Although I decided not to hunt until the mallards were further mature in 10 days or more . I enjoyed their enthusiasm for the process. Rarely had I witnessed the American caring for their birds in such a professional manner. Jim and his three sons truly had the times of their lives leaving the pressures of the Bay traffic and pressure to add value to their portfolio for at least this week. All of them came together without one cross word and truly a treat to see family and friends enjoy one another.

I enjoyed being akin to the Cal scene again, albeit for just a short time. Great wines, talk of expensive hunt clubs, winter ski trip and attempts at fly fishing, founder shares, Series A and B rounds and pre money valuations. I recalled quickly what I didn't miss about the Bay culture.

Jim Sr, a meticulous man, brought some great vintages and daily prepared mallard "de jour" marinated in a Currituck sauce worthy of my duck club in North Carolina. Well into the weeks and Sykes tiring of two daily shoots, I decided to show these gentlemen hunter the Quills Lakes, the reason for such abundance of waterfowl in good water years. And so Sykes who aimed to please his clients packed up my Weber gas grill with pressed duck breast, Jim’s excellent choice of a Napa Cab and off we were to watch the sun go down, the witness ducks hop from one slough to another and the White geese leave by the millions to feed on the left over field peas and barley. We would have a California gathering on the Quills

At the end of the week they parted happy campers and vowed to return. I hope the waters returns next year for it was an exceptional season for ducks. I will stop in to see Sykes when I go back to the Parklands next year.

Yikes with Sykes

Yikes with Sykes

Sunday October 5

I was in an up beat mood after chasing Huns and Sharp tails in southern Saskatchewan for a week. I will return to these grounds later in the trip when the grouse have bunched up and the white fronted geese are fat and excellent for roasting. Daughter, Cate was back safe in San Francisco after her Oxford University Studies. She and the two boys traveled with me many times during there home schooling years they all appreciate the warmth the Prairies exudes. Catherine is an independent strikingly handsome woman being 6’ tall a little less than 130 lbs. She is becoming a scholar with wide breadth of writing and analytical skill. Our two sons are immersed with engineering courses at the University. So it was just I and the two dogs that were traveling this year. I love being alone not having a schedule and spending time where I wish. Ellen was busy with a new analysis project and the hunting dog were ready and so was I for the cool season to change the ducks from drab color to mating plumage. I would visit around the Quill Lakes with friends until the 2 week and if the weather held go up north to the wolf poplar black spruce country to camp deep in the bush hunt ruffed and spruce grouse, and be alone. I could return to the central part of the province to shoot geese and ducks when the northern greenhead and snow geese blanketed the pot hole and the decoy shooting is fit for a King.

I meant Sykes while fly fishing Oregon. He asked me to visit his waterfowl lodge in Saskatchewan close to my traditional duck hunting area. Sykes was short on good help although he had a talent Mennonite cook his guides were locals and didn't until Sykes trained to determined if the geese were feeding or ready lift off and stage to the next larger pot hole. I agreed to introduce him to some of my farmer friends and show him the Quills but I couldn’t hunt or guide for him as I was very busy this fall. Still he wanted me to come up and stay with him and give him some advice on hunting strategy. And so I arrived around the first week near my hunting grounds. Sykesd was in the midst of his frrrirst gruop and to working 12 hours a day. He was nonstop but most important knew how to deal with clients and Sykes.

This year the spring rains and runoff had recharged the soil and there were pothole filled with ducks and geese as I hadn’t seen in 20 years. The farmers had been draining the shallow slough and seeding them for so long that when the rains water did show it ripped a new river down to a basin lake and flooded out vacation homes at Fishing Lake My farmer friends around the Quills all tell me that the ducks were back and like the 1950. They were dead on and the shooting esp. later in October was nothing but spectacular

The duck population around the Quill had exploded and so I would take some time to visit Sykes before the real Duck shooting been in the 3 rd week. Sykes is a one man operation with energy to match. He enjoys the center of attention and is very charming his clients. I enjoyed him and stayed in the background as he showed some very good hunters a very good series of hunts. I arrived at the d3ewveloing lodge after s fall dinner at Henedon. I was filled with home cooked garden reared veggies, ham, and deserts. When I entered Sykes place they were being served desert of apple crumb pie and the aroma hit me as the door swung open. Sykes was at the table, Filson hat lifted well above his brow and the quietkly introduce me to his group of family duck hunters from the Bay area. I would watch with amusement for the next week as Sykes and these close knit group of duck hunters day after day enjoyed to the fullest what the Quill had to offer.

The outside of lodge was in development but the inside was taking shape as a first class destination for the hunter. I thought it might need a woman touch but that impression quickly faded when I enter the lodge to a vaulted ceiling supporting a rock façade fireplace and an impressive clockwise twisted juniper tree that anchored the bar. His dinning room was wonderful; rich color and the mud room w big and warm. Sykes was the chief, court jester and guide wrapped into a single human. He was well on his way to build a first class lodge within an hour of the world’s finest goose duck hunting assuming the water and pot holes stay filled. He had all the equipment from go devil Jon Boat to dozens of Zinks coffin blinds, big foots and field duck decoys to lure the duck hordes. Sykes wanted me to help him scout which I did towards Foam Lake and the Quill but I could not take money and I was way to involve with other commits to begin the process.

It's Time to let the Dawgs Loose

Let the Hunts Begin

The back roads are always empty in southern part of the Provinces. They had a dry summer and the crop was off early but the prices are high. I find a place near the bottom lands that always produced Huns and grouse. I am using my new old Holland and Holland Royal ejector with Damascus tubes and a new leather pad I had installed. The game gun fits me to a tee and with open bore over pointing dogs, the Holland is deadly. My farmer friends who shoot more practical guns have Mossberg pumps and one even splurged to use a Remington 870. They and their boys always join me hoping to see me shoot my Hammerguns but they are satisfied as I am using Damascus. This will be a morning shoot and the birds are plentiful and mature. By noon we have bagged twelve Huns and four grouse. I have to tag mine as a Alien non residence, typical over use of terms by gov types, while the rest of the natives just fields dress them for tomorrow nights supper.

The dogs are watered as we head back to the farm for a noon dinner. The Mrs. has prepared a feast of Saskatchewan table fare and although next week is the Canadian Thanksgiving, Lorrie she pull out all the stops from her garden we feast on fresh butchered chickens, red mashed potatoes, buttered turnip pirogues and heaps of ripe sweet tomatoes and cucs. I bring Ellen’s pickle and the readily pass the test. Ellen is invited to move up here and garden. Ellen would be happy with a high sped internet connection and a loamy silt soil for her gardens. Saskatchewan is bettered wired than the US and there is wireless even “out yonder.”

Table talk ranges from the early harvest and the fields having no moisture to weather the winter to Bush and Cheney getting us into Iraq and the overwhelming debit and credit crash. I am not an apologist for Bush and it is tough to hear how angry many are up here about America is toppled as the leader of the free world. They believe as I that the armed forces are the finest with a task hard to due but in the end they will prevail as the Canadian Force are doing in Afghanistan. I’ve had enough of CNN and “fair and balanced Fox and Limbaugh and I turned my attention to the living room to watch the teenage boys roughing on the floor it with my dogs. They can not get enough of them and their playfulness. They are used to farm dogs that keep the coyotes and foxes away from the poultry. They love the lab especially for her retrieving abilities on cripple but Fe the wirehair is so wolfish looking they enjoy her antics and hunting powers but fear her a bit.

Late afternoon after a siesta from the food we load the dogs and Jack will get into waders. We throw five greenhead decoys into the back of the dodge and the three pickup head down the grid road to the five acres pot hole that was bursting with mallards. The tactic k is to first scare off the ducks quickly surround the tree lined water and safely shoot the greenheads as they return beckoned by calls and a few decoys. It is almost like shooting ducks in timber. Within ten minutes the mallard’s ducks begin to trickle back. We are mindful that Susie shooting is fines and so we pass several hens before Belle is sent to retrieve two ecliptic mallards. There are seven of us and the limit is 56 and these farmers still enjoy roast and Bar B Qed duck like mother used to cook. I love my Duck