• Fog, Friends, Food, Fun – All About Duck Hunting
• Farms Ponds Frozen, Search Reservoirs for Quacker’s
•   Using Google Maps and Digital Reckoning

By Jim Low

Like a faithless lover, duck hunting is hard to give up on.  I, along with many other Missouri waterfowlers, wrote off the 2016-2017 duck season as a bad job weeks ago.  But when hunting buddy and long-time friend Bill Powell asked me to join him on one last hunt at Pomme de Terre Lake, the siren’s song was irresistible.  Here was a chance to redeem an otherwise disappointing season with a mixed bag of divers and puddle ducks.  Who knew?  Maybe a brace of canvasbacks awaited us.

A large part of Bill’s motivation lay in testing the blind he was building for his new duck boat.  I might have seen the handwriting on the wall when, the night before our departure, he admitted that work on the blind had not progressed as hoped.  Instead of hunting from the comfort of his boat, we would motor to our chosen spot and hunker down in brush at the water’s edge.

My misgivings vanished when I woke to dress at 2 a.m. and peered out the bedroom window.  The fog was thick enough to stir with a spoon.  Duck weather!  By the time we got to Wheatland Park on Pomme de Terre’s northwestern shore, the air was so thick I had to ground-guide Bill as he backed the trailer down the boat ramp.  Launching the boat turned out to be the least of our problems.  The new 25HP Mercury motor stubbornly refused to catch, despite repeated mental review of the starting checklist.  Tank full?  Check.  Fuel Line connected?  Check.  Vent open?  Check.  Primer bulb pumped and firm?  Check.  But still no ignition.  Ten minutes and several expletives later, Bill discovered the missing item on his list.  Kill switch?  On!  Switch to off position…Varoom!

With motor purring like a contented tiger, Bill turned the bow into…an impenetrable fog bank.  The boat ramp was still visible, so Bill knew which direction was north.  All we had to do was motor three-quarters of a mile due south.  But even in our sleep-deprived condition we were sharp enough to know we would lose our bearings the moment the shoreline disappeared, and Bill’s boat had no compass or GPS unit to guide us.  With the boundless and equally unjustified confidence inspired by technology, I whipped out my smart phone and launched Google Maps.  In seconds, I was looking at a dot (us) moving slowly across the screen headed – due north?

“Turn around!” I shouted over the motor’s roar, fearing we might crash into the shore we had just left.  Bill dutifully turned what he judged to be 180 degrees and soon had us headed – due east.  “Turn right!” I shouted over the motor’s roar.

This went on for five or 10 minutes, until the boat ramp appeared again.  That’s when it dawned on me that the cursor on my phone’s screen had changed from the usual arrow, with its pointy end indicating direction of travel, to a largish dot with a funnel shaped thing protruding from one side.  This led to several questions.  Why had the cursor changed?  Had I accidentally switched a setting?  Did Google Maps automatically make the change when we went from land to water?  From day to night?  Was that funnel supposed to be the wake behind our boat or a beam of light preceding it?

This, in turn, led to several minutes of fumbling with settings, widening and narrowing the view to find landmarks and ordering Bill to go faster, slower, stop, turn left, turn right and stop altogether while I tried to figure out how facts on the water related to the image on my screen.  About this time, Bill looked up and exclaimed, “Oh, there it is!” Apparently I had navigated us – entirely by accident – to the desired spot.  Never ones to look a gift horse in the mouth, we proceeded to transfer our hunting gear to shore so Bill could motor farther down the cove (keeping the shoreline in sight!) and hide the boat.  Meanwhile, I began setting out decoys.

Everything went smoothly until I dumped the bag containing scaup decoys on a 100-foot jerk line.  There was evidence of an elegant scheme to keep decoy cords and the main line orderly.  However, that effort had been defeated by the hurly-burly of tossing decoy bags into and out of truck and boat.  Utter chaos now prevailed, and a pocket knife seemed the only remedy.  Bill set about deploying the other decoys while I applied years of experience with tangled baitcasting reels to the diver rig.  Amazingly, I had it mostly untangled by the time shooting light arrived.

That’s when Bill discovered that he had left our stools and food in the truck.  No matter.  We had managed to remember our guns and ammo, and we had camo netting to drape over buttonbush and willows to create individual blinds.  We were set.  All we needed was ducks.

Late-season hunts on southern Missouri’s big Corps of Engineers reservoirs are most productive when neighboring ponds and streams are frozen.  That had been true the previous week.  However, the past few days had been warm, and puddle ducks now were contentedly preening on a thousand farm ponds.  So, we pinned our hopes on diving ducks, whose preference for big water keeps hunters in business at Pomme de Terre regardless of weather.

We did see a few goldeneyes and ringnecks, but none that showed significant interest in our decoys.  The only shots we fired were at a pair of Canada geese that strayed dangerously close around 8 a.m.  Feathers drifted down as the pair disappeared into the fog.  Moments later, we heard honking out on the water a few hundred yards away.  The distressed calling continued and it seemed clear that one of the birds was down.  Bill hotfooted it back to the boat with his retriever, Hector, and went in search of the crippled bird. They returned empty-handed half an hour later.

Two hours and several decoy adjustments later, we admitted defeat and collected our gear.  As we motored back to the boat ramp, Bill noticed that his shotgun was missing.  Back to the point we went and retrieved the gun in its cunningly camouflaged case.  At least the fog had lifted, and we could find our way without digital assistance.

At the ramp, we experienced what we thought was our final humiliation of the day. Earlier in the morning, when Bill pulled up to park his truck after launching the boat, the fog apparently had confused him so thoroughly that he parked 50 yards too far downhill. As a result, his trailer was blocking half of the boat ramp’s width.  “Did I really do that?” Bill asked in dismay. Yep.  He sure did.  The one boater who arrived after us had kindly refrained from leaving a nasty note or scratches on Bill’s new truck.  But he surely must have had some choice words for the rubes who preceded him.

On our way home, as Hector snoozed contentedly between us, we decided to visit a pond owned by one of my neighbors.  Geese regularly visit there, spreading gooey green poop liberally across lawn and sidewalk.  She is delighted to have me visit periodically and put the fear of God in these feathered manure spreaders.  To simplify our approach, we traded vehicles, putting guns and retriever in my truck for the trip to the pond.

Alas, we found it deserted, dashing our last hope.  I dropped Bill and Hector back at his truck before heading home, ready for a nap.  Then I realized that Bill hadn’t retrieved his shotgun from the back of my truck.  After a quick phone call, we both reversed directions and returned to our rendezvous point to do a final sorting of gear.  He still ended up with my phone charger, but that was small potatoes in the Chinese fire drill that our day had become.

Every hunt creates memories, regardless of whether game is taken.  If nothing else, our last duck hunt of the 2016-17 season resulted in a full limit of stories to tell.

• New Shotshells DO Shoot Farther and Kill – BE CAREFUL
• Hunt for the Camaraderie, the Excitement, the Deep Spiritual Meaning

By Jim Low

I don’t ordinarily watch hunting shows on television, but the Hunt Channel caught me in a weak moment.  I’m still coming to terms with the fact that my 2016 duck hunting season ended without me firing a single shot at a mallard.  Sad.  So sad that when I saw a duck-hunting program listed on my satellite TV menu, I clicked in, hoping at least to share the experience of luckier hunters.  What a disappointment.

All the physical elements of a duck hunt were there – guys, guns, decoys, dogs and the factor that has eluded me this year, ducks.  Yet somehow it didn’t add up to hunting.  There was plenty of killing, though.  Five minutes into the program I had already seen more birds fall out of the air than would have been necessary for me to call a day in the marsh a success.  But something was missing.

For one thing, there was none of the banter that enlivens a morning spent with hunting buddies.  No reminiscing about past hunts, no good-natured jibes about shooting ability or choice of ammunition.  Mostly it was grim determination and gear talk. Long shots were the order of the day.  Despite the presence of large numbers of ducks that readily worked the decoys, only a few managed to get closer than 40 yards before the three hunters unleashed a barrage of expensive non-toxic shot in their general direction.  The implicit message was that hunting skill is superfluous when you can simply buy bigger, better shot shells capable of knocking down ducks at 60 yards.  Never mind the large proportion of crippled birds.

Neophyte waterfowlers would not have learned much from the endless series of money shots.  The hosts offered no observations about wind or other weather variables and how they might affect hunting strategy.  There was no explanation of how the decoy spread was structured to invite passing ducks to land.  No wonder, since the spread showed no sign of forethought.  It was an amorphous wad of bobbing plastic, with no opening to lure birds into shotgun range.

Violating the most basic rule of duck calling, the trio continued to blow loudly on their calls even when the birds were swooping toward the decoys.  When ducks fell, the party’s lone retriever piled into the water unbidden, a serious breach of retriever etiquette.  The only dog work and handling that viewers got to see was when the Labrador Retriever delivered a duck to hand.  All you saw was a wild barrage of shooting, one or several ducks falling and – if you were lucky – a dog climbing back into the boat with a duck.

There was plenty of product placement, however.  To be honest, that description implies a level of subtlety the show’s producers did not possess.  “Product placement” implies that hunters are shown using particular brands and models of equipment.  To compensate for a lack of careful filming, ham-handed editing superimposed huge product photos over the hunting video when a sponsor’s gewgaw was purportedly in use.  The whole thing would have made the brazen pitchmen of AMC’s Mad Men blush.

Three-quarters of a century ago, Aldo Leopold lamented the fact that outdoor media were becoming mere billboards for outdoor gadgets.  He said he was glad he wouldn’t live to see the end result.  I know how he felt.  I don’t mind gadgeteers making a buck by peddling bigger, better, faster and generally over-rated products.  I even end up buying some of them and then laughing at myself.  I once bought a box of steel shot shells touted as “hypersonic.” When my hunting buddy ran out of ammo, he teasingly asked me to lend him a couple of my “hyperbolic” loads.  Made me laugh and blush simultaneously.

Up to a point, commercializing hunting doesn’t bother me.  It’s good for the economy and real hunters quickly figure out which gimmicks work and are compatible with their standards for fair chase.  What really troubles me is reductive treatment of blood sports.  New hunters, potential hunters and non-hunters who watch shows like the one I saw would never guess that hunting is about more than killing things.  The Spanish philosopher and hunter Jose Ortega y Gasset said that he did not hunt to kill, he killed in order to have hunted.

I wanted to kill ducks this fall, I really did, but I still considered my time in the marsh with friends worthwhile, in spite of the scarcity of killing.  It would have been even more satisfactory if ducks had deigned to visit my marsh, even if I had failed to kill one.  I will continue to hunt as long as there is a possibility of ducks cupping their wings and sliding into a cleverly-conceived decoy spread, whether it happens or not.

I don’t consider the guys in the hunting video bad people or unethical hunters.  I strongly suspect they understand, deep down, the truth of y Gasset’s view of the relationship between hunting and killing.  However, I do consider them and the producers of their show to be thoughtless and embarrassingly inept storytellers.  If you are going to portray hunting in a public forum, please don’t cheapen it by reducing the experience to hunting porn.  Do your best to capture the art, the camaraderie, the excitement and the deep spiritual meaning that comprise hunting at its best.  I know it’s not as easy as stringing together a bunch of kill shots, but it’s more truthful.

• Labs, Beagles & Bassets 
•   Secret, Succulent Rabbit Recipe 

By Jim Low

My friend Dave Urich has hunted rabbits behind beagles since childhood.  He has always loved the music of baying hounds, but he doesn’t enjoy racing to rescue freshly shot bunnies from a pack of crazed canines.  He has never succeeded in teaching his beagles not to tear up rabbits, so he found another solution.

Enter Smith & Wesson*, a pair of Labrador retrievers.  Smith is a black lab, while Wesson is more or less the same shade of yellow as the well-known brand of cooking oil.  Dave keeps Smith & Wesson at heel while his pack of six to eight beagles rousts rabbits.  When he bags a bunny with his .410 over-under, the labs go into action.  They usually beat the beagles to the game and gleefully deliver it to Dave’s waiting hand.

This system works fine, but Dave isn’t one to settle for “good” when a little tinkering might get him to “better” or all the way to “perfect.” In that spirit, Dave added a basset hound named Porterhouse to the mix.  Beagles are an excitable and hasty lot, prone to missing small olfactory clues and being fooled by of cottontail chicanery.  They would mill around in circles for hours if not forcibly redirected.

Bassets, on the other hand, have keener noses than their longer-legged cousins and are nothing if not deliberate.  Porterhouse normally trails minutes behind the beagle pack, patiently following meandering traces of rabbit spoor as if every molecule were the finest French cologne.  Rabbits that cross a creek or double back and then hide in out-of-the-way nooks watch the howling beagle pack pass by and think they have it made.  Next thing you know, Porterhouse has his nose beneath their backsides and the chase is on again.

This is much more orderly in theory than it is in practice.  Individual beagles go off on tangents that take them to the next county.  Others decide it would be fun to chase deer.  Labs get bored and wander off to roll in raccoon poop when Dave isn’t looking.  “Chaos” is too mild a word for a hunt with Dave’s dogs, but entertainment is never in short supply.  To keep things manageable, Dave fits every member of his pack – except those carrying guns – with shock collars, which he controls individually to correct the behavior of whichever dog might go rogue at a given moment.  How he keeps track of the dogs, let alone the collars, is beyond me, but we haven’t lost a dog yet.

That is more than I can say for rabbits.  We do well enough shooting them, but with so many eager dogs in play, we seldom get through a day without losing at least one rabbit to canine exuberance.  It’s a small price to pay for so much fun.  Eating them can be extremely pleasant, too.  Rabbit meat is a lot like chicken minus the generous helping of fat that goes with chicken skin.  Frying in back grease and then slow-braising in a covered skillet supplies the moisture that rabbit flesh lacks, and that is a perfectly acceptable way to cook it.  My favorite, however, involves heavy cream, white wine and bowtie pasta.  Here’s how I do it.

Meat and Cooking

Remove the meat of two or three quartered rabbits from the bone.  Sear them in olive oil with chopped garlic in a cast-iron Dutch oven.  Cut into half-inch chunks and set aside in a covered container.

Sauce

Sautee 4 green onions in butter in the Dutch oven until they start to soften.  Add 12 ounces of dry white wine and 12 ounces of chicken stock and stir to dissolve browning residue from bottom of oven.  Add four bay leaves, two teaspoons of peppercorns, 12 chopped sprigs of fresh thyme and simmer until reduced by two-thirds.

Add 8 ounces of half-and half to the sauce and simmer until reduced by half.  Remove from heat and strain the sauce into another container.  Discard the seasonings and return strained sauce to the Dutch oven.

Dice a stick of butter and whisk it into sauce.  Add salt and fresh lemon juice to taste.  Stir in the diced meat and keep it warm while preparing the pasta.

Pasta

Slice two bell peppers – one red and one green – into thin strips.  Cut 16 ounces of fresh mushrooms into quarters.  Sautee pepper strips and mushrooms in butter until they begin to soften, but are still firm.  Set aside.

Cook a large package of bowtie pasta or wide egg noodles, drain and pour into a large serving bowl.  Arrange the peppers and mushrooms on top.  Pour on the sauce and serve.

* I asked Dave how his basset hound acquired such an unusual, but undeniably descriptive name.  “None of my dogs answer to their names,” he said, “So I give them names that I like.  For a while I was in the habit of naming them after cuts of meat.” He says that led to “Pork Chop,” “Ribeye,” “Tenderloin” and “T-bone.” If I ever acquire a beagle of my own, I’m calling him “Ground Chuck.” “Chateaubriand” might be a good choice for a classy bird dog.

• Missouri Deer Magic
• Mentoring – Builds Character, Humility 
• Camaraderie, Friendship, Fun  
• Organic Meat for the Freezer

By Jim Low

One of the things I love about deer hunting in Missouri is its democratic nature.  With 2.5 million acres of public hunting land managed by the Missouri Department of Conservation (MDC) and the USDA Forest Service, anyone can pursue white-tailed deer in the Show-Me State.  Most deer hunters chase whitetails on private land at least part of the time, but the abundance of public land helps ensure the continuation of a vigorous hunting tradition.

While I am fortunate enough to have deer hunting property of my own, I always open the November portion of firearms deer season with friends in southern Cole County.  While not exactly a “deer camp,” the camaraderie of hunting with long-time friends, Tom and Susie Schulz, adds a dimension to the experience that I would miss even if I managed to shoot a big buck elsewhere on my own.

So, opening morning found me at Tom and Susie’s place, scanning a weedy food plot for activity.  I didn’t have to wait long.  Less than an hour into the season, a beautiful spike buck emerged from the woods to check a scrape 20 yards from my stand.  I know lots of hunters who would have passed on this yearling deer, hoping for a big-antlered buck.  But to me, taking a medium-sized buck or a fat doe is as exciting as dropping a buck with coat-rack antlers.

I freely admit to being a meat hunter.  My wife and I both prefer venison to beef, and the chance to stack loins, back straps, roasts, steaks, stew meat and ground venison in the freezer is mostly what deer hunting is about.  Don’t get me wrong.  I go weak-kneed at the sight of a massive set of antlers just as most hunters do, but I have exactly the same reaction to the appearance of a pair of 150-pound does.  If I have two antlerless tags in my pocket and enough ambition to tackle processing two deer, I’ll shoot both of them.  Then, I’ll wonder at their beauty as I prepare to turn them into a year’s meat supply.

The only thing sweeter is getting the chance to “make meat” or bag a trophy buck with friends is doing both in one day.  That’s what happened the second Saturday of this year’s deer season.

Years ago, I began mentoring a boy of 16 who had a passion for hunting but no one in his family to take him.  Scott Gerlt has matured into a fine and accomplished young man and what began as mentorship has ripened into a rewarding outdoor partnership.  After striking out in the duck marsh last Saturday morning, Scott suggested the possibility of hunting deer in the afternoon.  That seemed like a good idea, so I called Susie, got her blessing and headed out to their place.  Scott, Tom and I were in our stands by 3:30.  Susie elected to monitor events from the house via text messages.

Scott had never hunted deer there before, but he was intrigued by accounts of abundant deer, including some big ones.  At 4:30 I heard shots from Scott’s direction.  A text from Susie informed me that Scott had shot a forkhorn.  Thirty minutes later, a beautiful, mature doe came cantering toward me.  When she pulled up short and turned broadside to test the air, I put a solid copper, 160-grain Barnes bullet through both her lungs.  She was down seconds later, having conveniently run 120 yards toward the road.  “Doe down!” I texted Susie.

Tom and Scott soon arrived to help me load my doe.  That done, Scott asked if I would like to see his forkhorn.  Why not, I thought.  It ought to be as fine on the table as my doe.

OMG.  Scott and Tom had been pulling my leg.  Tom’s truck bed held not a forkhorn but a big – and I mean BIG – buck.  I don’t have much experience scoring antlers, but I would be surprised if this one didn’t gross 160.  The net score will suffer from asymmetry in the G2 and G3 tines and a ring-hanger point on the left side. But the length, spread and mass all are impressive.  It’s a deer we all will remember, regardless of whether it makes the Show-Me Missouri Big Bucks or Boone & Crockett club books.

Before the hunt, Scott told me he wasn’t interested in antlers.  He wanted a doe for the freezer.  He didn’t do anything special to “earn” this trophy. Heck, he hadn’t even thought he wanted it.  Yet there he was, posing for photos and considering how to broach the subject of taxidermy with his wife.  On the way home, he was thinking about asking the Schulz’s if he can bring his 5-year-old daughter, Maddie, hunting at Tom and Susie’s to show her what all the fuss is about.

That’s what I mean when I say deer hunting is democratic.  In Missouri, anyone can hope to shoot a trophy deer – whatever that means to them.

With the threat of CWD looming on the horizon in this part of the country, for Scott and Maddie’s sake, I hope it doesn’t come to that.

• Learn What It Is, What It Means

By Jim Low

Last weekend, Missouri hunters brought 19,200 deer to 75 stations set up by the Missouri Department of Conservation (MDC) to gather tissue samples to be tested for chronic wasting disease (CWD).  It was a huge effort that involved approximately 1,200 MDC employees – the majority of MDC’s full-time employees – working at sampling stations on opening weekend of the November firearms deer season.

This intensive effort is the latest piece of MDC’s ongoing program to detect and slow the spread of a disease that – if left unchecked – will spell the end of deer hunting as we know it in the Show-Me State.  That would be a catastrophe for several reasons.  For one thing, the state’s deer herd is the foundation of a deep and rich outdoor tradition.  I don’t know how many people the Kansas City Royals, the St.  Louis Blues or the MU Tigers pull in for a game, but I’m sure those figures would be dwarfed by the more than 500,000 hunters who pour into Missouri’s forests and fields every November in pursuit of deer.

Deer hunting is more than a cherished tradition in Missouri.  It also yields approximately 2.5 million pounds of lean red meat annually.  If you assume a very conservative value of $5 per pound for organic, free-range venison, that’s $12.5 million worth of meat.  And thanks to hunters’ generosity through the Share the Harvest program, approximately 10 percent of Missouri’s annual deer harvest goes to food banks and local charities that provide nutritional assistance to our neediest families.  Besides all that, economists figure that deer hunting supports around 12,000 Show-Me State jobs and pumps more than $1 billion into the state and local economies.

However, if you ask deer hunters why they go out with rifle in hand each November, you aren’t likely to hear about dollars and cents.  I posed this question to several hunters while I was at the Cole County R-5 School in Eugene on opening day, having my deer sampled for CWD.  Every single one mentioned the mental and emotional boost they get from time spent in the woods, engaged in the age-old quest to provide food for themselves and their families.  Their sentiments were summed up most eloquently by one of the younger hunters I spoke with, David Newton, of Jefferson City.

“There is something spiritual and right in my soul when I get to hunt,” Newton told me.  “My life is really busy, and even if I don’t get to shoot anything, if I get to sit in the woods and think about the world, see how things slowly move, it puts my mind in the right place.  There’s also the challenge of providing food for my family, having the blessing of being able to take dominion over the earth like God gave us.  It all fits in.”

I also asked hunters if the spread of CWD in Missouri concerns them.  They all said yes, and again, Newton had a good answer.

“As someone who is passionate about hunting, it’s certainly something I’m concerned about and want to see dealt with sooner rather than later,” said Newton.  “I hear guys talk about the time in the past when there weren’t deer around.  I’m a young guy, so if I hunt long enough, I know I’m going to see deer.  But if deer get sick and start dying out, there won’t be deer any more.  I’ve got three boys.  When they’re old enough to hunt, I don’t want them to have five or six years when they don’t see a deer.”

All this is enough to make you wonder how we got to the point where such a valuable and treasured resource is in danger of disappearing.  As in other eastern states where CWD has cropped up in the past 20 years, Missouri’s outbreaks in free-ranging deer all have occurred adjacent to high-fence facilities where deer are kept for breeding and shooting.  Since the owners of these facilities have a financial stake in deer health, you might think they would be in the forefront of efforts to contain CWD.  You would be wrong.  Missouri’s deer breeders and purveyors of canned hunts have fought tooth and nail against common-sense measures proposed by the Missouri Conservation Commission as a compromise to allow captive-deer facilities to continue operating.

There was a time when the average hunter’s attitude toward captive-deer operations was live-and-let-live.  Paying to shoot a “frankendeer” with freakishly large antlers as it bellied up to a timed corn feeder might not have appealed to them, but they weren’t willing to criticize others for doing so, even if it seemed like the opposite of hunting.  But now, with CWD threatening to destroy the sport they love, and with the danger of creating a new outbreak every time a deer is imported or moved from one shooting pen to another in Missouri, attitudes are changing.

Earlier this year, the Arkansas Game & Fish Commission announced the discovery of an extensive CWD outbreak in counties bordering southwestern Missouri.  This expands the already huge area that MDC must monitor for the presence and spread of CWD.  At this rate, CWD could be so widespread in Missouri that containment is impossible within a very few years.

Missouri deer breeders and pay-to-shoot operations currently are unregulated, as a lawsuit they brought against the Conservation Commission works its way through the legal system.  So far, their money has spoken louder than hunters’ voices in the courts and in the Missouri legislature.   If you care about deer hunting, read up on CWD at mdc.mo.gov/CWD, and express your desire for action forcefully to the Conservation Commission and to your state and national legislators.

After having my deer sampled for CWD, I also asked other hunters there if they thought shooting deer inside fenced enclosures is “hunting.” Not one said yes.

I’m inclined to say no,” said Newton.  “Every intuition in me says no.  Maybe that’s rooted in the pride of hunting and the feeling that it’s not as challenging.  I think this idea of shooting for sport and shooting enclosed animals, I don’t think it’s hunting.  I don’t think its showing proper reverence or honoring the opportunity we have to hunt.”

Details about MDC’s CWD sampling are printed in the 2016 Fall Deer and Turkey Hunting booklet, available wherever hunting permits are sold.  Hunters who shoot deer throughout the rest of the hunting season in the 29 counties of the CWD management zone can still have their deer tested for the disease.  Contact the MDC Central Regional Office in Columbia at 573-815-7900, the MDC Northeast Regional Office in Kirksville at 660-785-2420, or the MDC St.  Louis Regional Office in St.  Charles at 636-441-4554.  Hunters can also find voluntary CWD sampling stations at mdc.mo.gov/CWD.

On a much more positive note, thanks to all of you who turned out to vote for renewing Missouri’s 1/10^th of 1 percent sales tax for parks and soil and water conservation.  Eight out of 10 voters approved the renewal, sending a resounding message to state officials about how much Missourians value their parks.  Well done!

-Fun, Tasty Harvest, Little Gear Needed

By Jim Low

One of the things I miss from time that I have spent in Arkansas is green-timber duck hunting.  Missouri once had a considerable cypress-tupelo swamp in the southeastern corner of the state, but precious little of that is left.  What remains is a long way from my home in Jefferson City, but I still manage to get a taste of green-timber hunting during the first couple of weeks of duck season each year.

Wood ducks nest in wooded sloughs and along the margins of lakes, ponds, streams and Missouri’s big public wetland areas.  You can even find them around wildlife watering holes on land owned by the USDA Forest Service and the Missouri Department of Conservation.  I first discovered this when I was in college at MU and augmented my meager food budget with game from public land south and east of Columbia.  As I stalked squirrels one day, I spied a pair of woodies in a pond small enough to throw a rock across.  Both birds went home with me that day.  They provided the basis for one of the first meals I ever cooked for the lissome young woman who has brightened my days and nights for the past 43 years.

Thousands of wood ducks remain in Missouri into early November.  Until they depart for milder climes, they make it possible to enjoy the spectacle of web-footed prey weaving through tree trunks to splash down amid decoys.  My preferred spot to wait for them is along the banks of Mussel Fork Creek in Chariton County.  To be perfectly accurate, I hunt just over the banks of Mussel Fork, at the edge of a small, privately owned wetland.  Mussel Fork itself often is rather short of water this time of year, whereas the borrow ditch at my duck club – Mussel Fork Legacy Marsh – always offers hungry wood ducks a congenial place to loaf and chow down on their favorite food – pin oak acorns.

Last Friday, Mussel Fork’s pre-dawn silence was enlivened by the chortles of leopard frogs who were understandably confused about the season.  The calendar said November, but the thermometer tilted toward April.  My golden retriever and I were comfortable without parka or neoprene vest as we watched the lightening eastern sky impart a pink glow to water beneath half a dozen wood duck decoys.  Faced into the sun isn’t my first choice of duck-hunting positons, but I didn’t choose this spot – the ducks did.  The previous day I flushed 20 or so woodies from the corner where two levees meet, and I knew where I would be the following morning.

As daylight stole among the pin oaks, I learned why this spot attracted so many “wood widgeons.” The trees along the nearly dry creek behind me came alive with the squeals of wood ducks.  Dozens flew over my hiding spot as they headed out to forage, but I didn’t have to wait that long.  Several groups saw no reason to fly to distant spots when food was nearby.  They swooped in on Willa and me at five- to 10-minute intervals.

Admittedly, this was not the full green-timber experience.  I was at the edge of the trees, not surrounded by them.  But the ambiance had much in common with a northern Arkansas bayou, and the gunning was still challenging.  I spent five shells dropping two wood ducks.  When a hen hit the water, I declared my sporting limit filled.  Woodies continued to check us out as I took a few photos to memorialize the morning.

You don’t need much gear to hunt wood ducks.  The half-dozen I use is about twice as many as necessary.  I own a wood duck call, but almost never use it, having never seen an instance where it appeared to influence wood duck behavior.  What you absolutely must have is an idea of where wood ducks are hanging out.  The presence of pin oak trees whose branches overhang water is a huge advantage, but this doesn’t narrow the field much.  It’s also helpful to find a fallen tree that has sunk most of the way into the mud, providing ample perching space on its trunk and limbs.  But the gold standard of wood duck holes is a pocket of some sort.  An oxbow or a slough where a tributary enters the main stream is good.  So is a small pond, the back of an isolated lake cove or a dead end or bend in a borrow ditch.

Missouri has literally hundreds of public areas with excellent wood duck hunting spots.  One example is Mussel Fork Conservation Area in Linn and Macon counties.  Its 2,491 acres include four ponds, two wetlands and four miles of Mussel Fork Creek.  The Conservation Department’s website makes it easy to find areas like this in nearly every county.  Once you pick an area, the best way to find a productive spot is to simply walk creek banks, levees or wetland edges until you flush a bunch of wood ducks.  Leave immediately and return at about the same time the next day, and you likely will be in the money.  If forced to hunt without scouting beforehand, choose a likely spot and set out a small spinning-wing decoy with a handful of decoys to attract the attention of passing birds.  Don’t fret if you don’t own any wood duck decoys.  Hen mallard, gadwall or pintail hen dekes work fine.

As their name implies, wood ducks are creatures of the woods.  They tend to hug the edge of timber rather than flying out over large, open expanses.  As a result, I seldom get shots at wood ducks much beyond 30 yards.  No.  4 or 3 steel shot

works well at that range.  I hunt with an over/under shotgun for versatility in choke selection.  Screw an improved cylinder tube into one barrel and either modified of skeet choke in the other, depending on the likelihood of longer versus shorter shots.

Wood ducks are right up there with blue-winged teal, canvasbacks and prime rib for eating quality.  To let the flavor shine, filet the breast meat from the bone and cut it across the grain into cutlets about ¾ inch thick.  Salt and pepper these lightly and sear them in a hot skillet with butter or olive oil.  When they are still pink in the middle, set the cutlets aside on a warm plate.  Add a little red wine to the skillet and sauté some sliced mushrooms until tender.  Serve the meat and mushrooms with your choice of potatoes, bread or buttered egg noodles.  There’s no finer eating.

–Ground Blinds offer Advantages of Comfort and Safety

-Low cost, Protection from Weather 

By Jim Low

A while back, a friend invited me to hunt deer on his property.  When I asked if he had a tree stand I could hunt from, or if I needed to bring my own, he said he didn’t use tree stands anymore.  He had gone to all ground blinds.  Having never hunted out of a ground blind, I decided to give one of his a try.  It was an eye-opening experience.  So much so, that I got one of my own.  Here are a few things I have learned about ground blinds and hunting from them.

PLUS/MINUS

Hunting from a ground blind has disadvantages.  The most significant to me is visibility.  Being 10 to 15 feet off the ground puts you above forest undergrowth, providing a clear view of approaching deer.  Elevation also gets you above minor undulations in the terrain, extending your field of view even farther.

The visibility factor is particularly important when bowhunting.  Even a twig can deflect an arrow, so after setting up a ground blind you must ensure clear fields of fire.  In my case, this involved a couple of hours of cutting bushes, brambles, saplings and sprouts with lopping shears.  The spot where I put my ground blind was in second-growth forest, so I also used a chainsaw to take out some of the smaller trees.

This wasn’t a bad thing in terms of forest management.  The area around my blind was overcrowded with small trees, so my work amounted to a timber-stand improvement cut, which needed to be done anyway.  The area is more open now, and the remaining red oaks will be more vigorous and produce more acorns, which means more food for deer and turkeys.

Another plus to ground blinds is safety.  I love hunting from a tree stand, but climbing up and down to and from them can be dicey after a snow or ice storm.  Older hunters, whose strength and reflexes are reduced, are at particular risk from falls, making ground blinds an attractive option for them.

Ground blinds also offer comfort.  Having four walls and a roof around you makes hunting more attractive when the mercury plummets.  You can’t shoot a deer if you aren’t in the woods, and ground blinds allow you to stay in the woods much longer than you would if you were 15 feet in the air, exposed to wind, rain, sleet or snow.

Being in a ground blind also gives you the freedom to stand up and stretch and otherwise move around without the risk of being spotted by deer.  Outdoor retailers also sell chairs made specifically for use with ground blinds, further increasing the comfort factor.

WHAT TO LOOK FOR

One of the first things to consider when buying a ground blind is weight.  This isn’t a big deal if you can drive to your hunting spot, but if your chosen site is a mile from the nearest road, a 5- or 10-pound difference is significant.

Durability is the most important factor in my book.  Look closely at the design and materials used in struts, hinges, zippers and other stress points.  Consider the thickness of fabric and look for double stitching on seams.  If you buy your blind online, go to a brick-and-mortar store first, and examine the one you are considering.  Ask the clerk to let you take down the display model and then set it up again, so you find out how easy or difficult it is.  Better to learn now if you can’t set a particular blind up without damaging it.  This is also an opportunity to check for durability.

Consider the field of view from inside.  You don’t need 360 degrees of visibility, but 270 degrees is handy for spotting deer coming from behind.  The ability to open and close window panels is handy, since it permits you to exclude wind and precipitation from different directions.  This also permits you to darken the area behind you, so as not to be silhouetted against a light background, making movement inside the blind visible to deer.

Be sure your chosen blind has camouflage netting to cover the windows.  This enables you to see out, while hiding what’s inside from deer.  Bowhunters should be sure to get a blind with shoot-through window netting.  To work, these must be fastened at both top and bottom.  Otherwise, even a sharp broadhead can catch loose mesh enough to deflect the arrow’s flight.

When choosing a chair for your blind, be sure to buy one with adjustable legs, so it can be leveled on slanted or uneven ground.  Again, if you plan to buy online, try to find a store where you can test-drive your chosen model to check for comfort.  If this isn’t possible, don’t hesitate to send an uncomfortable chair back for a refund or exchange.  You are going to be sitting in this thing a lot of hours.  It needs to be well-suited to your body.

PRODUCT REVIEW

My blind is a Blackout Hybrid from Bass Pro Shops (http://www.basspro.com/BlackOut-Hybrid-180-Hunting-Ground-Blind/product/2215666/).  I got it with Bass Pro’s companion Black Out hard-arm chair (http://www.basspro.com/BlackOut-Swivel-Hard-Arm-Chair/product/1302280931/?cmCat=CROSSSELL_PRODUCT_HU_VTT1).  On balance, I like them a lot.  The blind only weighs 14 pounds and is ridiculously simple to set up.  All you do is pull on the strap at the center of each side panel to pop them into place.  It is tall enough to allow all but the tallest hunters to stand upright inside and has plenty of room for two chairs, day packs and other gear.  Multiple-panel windows provide excellent field of view and versatility, and the shoot-through camo netting is easy to install and remove.  The zippers are sturdy and function smoothly.  The ground anchors are sturdy and have step-on braces that make driving them into the ground a cinch.  Built-in side pockets are handy for stowing small items.  The blind is rather heavy, but I don’t have to go with it, and the sturdy nylon canvas has a shoulder strap to facilitate carrying.

I am especially pleased with the chair.  I have back problems, so I’m really picky about chairs.  Not one in 100 pieces of inside furniture are comfortable for me to sit in.  The Black Out chair is so ergonomically perfect that I can sit in it for

hours without the usual need of pillows or other stuff to make them comfortable.  The locks on the adjustable legs are easy to operate and lock positively.  Wide, circular plates prevent the feet from sinking into any but the softest ground.  The chair swivels smoothly and silently. Like the blind, it comes with a carrying strap.

The Blackout Hybrid blind and chair’s faults are few and very minor.  The pull cords on the zippers are flimsy.  However, when they break – as they inevitably do – they zippers still operate easily without them.  I honestly don’t know why they even bothered including the string pulls.  The upper portion of the chair slips down onto the base, which is very convenient, but there is no locking device to keep it in place.  This has not caused me any problems yet.  A thumb screw on the mounting sleeve would ensure that the chair stays on the base.  However, that would interfere with the chair’s swiveling.  Clearly, I’m grasping at straws when it comes to finding anything wrong with the chair.

I haven’t used my ground blind for turkey hunting yet.  It isn’t compatible with my run-and-gun style of hunting, but it will be great when I introduce fidgety youngsters to the sport, or years from now, when I’m too old and decrepit to chase gobblers all over god’s half-acre.

SAFETY

One thing to remember when you move from tree stands to ground blinds is that you lose the automatic back-stop effect.  If you miss when shooting down from a tree stand, your bullet or arrow goes straight into the ground, not across the field or over the next ridge.  It’s important to remember this when choosing a location for and using a ground blind.

In Missouri and many other states, there is a requirement to wear blaze orange when deer hunting.  This rule has saved dozens of lives and prevented hundreds of injuries since it went into effect more than 30 years ago, but wearing hunter orange does no good when you are inside a ground blind.  To alert other hunters to your presence, hang an orange hat or vest on the outside of your blind, or sew a piece of orange cloth to the top for permanent protection.

-Woodcock Hunting is a Challenge

-Flushes, Shots, Missouri Fun

By Jim Low

It isn’t my favorite game bird – that would be the wild turkey.  Nor is it the most delicious I’ve ever eaten – that would the rock ptarmigan.  But for a wingshooting challenge, my hands-down favorite is the American woodcock.  If that weren’t enough, the sporty little “timberdoodle” plugs the gaping hole between dove and quail seasons in Missouri’s upland bird hunting calendar.  Though you seldom find them here before Nov. 1, woodcock season opens Oct. 15 and provides a plausible excuse for field boots, shooting vest and elegant double guns that seem to rise to the shoulder of their own volition.

My golden retriever and I went hunting three times this fall before finally seeing our first woodcock.  A load of No. 9s from my favorite woodcock gun – a plain-Jane Merkel that retains perhaps 5 percent of its original finish – sent dozens of cottonwood leaves tumbling to the ground.  The bird continued on its way, never to be seen again.  It was the only bird we saw that day.

Halloween was different.  I had just enough time to hunt a postage-stamp covert within two miles of the house, but the weather felt right, with a stronger-than-predicted cool front having pushed through the night before.  Fifty yards from the truck, a big adult woodcock flushed from the edge of a cedar thicket, and after spiraling up 15 feet it pitched into a tangled confusion of limbs and needles.  Shooting would have been pointless, even if I had been quick enough to snap off a shot, which I wasn’t.  So we pinned our hopes on a second flush.  But before we could pursue the departed bird, another sputtered out of the same spot amid the welter of cottonwood saplings.

A young bird, still unschooled in evading hunters, went up and then swerved straight left on as predicable an arc as any woodcock ever does.  The bird crumpled at my shot, and we both watched it fall.  Willa was on it in seconds.  After delivering the first woodcock of the year to hand, she was eager to find another, but I calmed her down long enough for a selfie.

While tens or perhaps hundreds of thousands of Missourians hunt doves each year, woodcock hunters number only a few hundred.  I suspect we all are Cubs fans.  If we had a patron saint, it would be Don Quixote.  If you think quail hunters are die-hards, you never met a timberdoodle addict.

Part of the charm of hunting woodcock is the birds’ surpassing peculiarity.  Although technically they are shorebirds, you won’t find them in marshes.  Instead, they haunt wooded stream borders and adjacent uplands.  There, they probe sandy soil for earthworms, which comprise 70 percent of their diet.  Because they spend so much of their time nostril-deep in the ground, their eyes and ears have migrated to the top of their heads.  Their 3-inch beaks are prehensile, and are controlled by a Rube Goldberg arrangement of tendons that encircle their bony eye sockets before attaching to muscles beneath their skulls.  Their feet are set far back on their bodies, giving them an adorable, waddling gait.

At least so I’m told.  I’ve never actually seen one walk.  They tend to hold so tight, you practically have to launch them into the air with the toe of your boot.  And because their plumage is a perfect match for a leaf-littered forest floor, finding them – before flushing or after shooting – is next to impossible with unaided human senses.  That’s why virtually all woodcock hunting is done with dogs.  Timberdoodles’ tight-sitting tendency makes them the perfect game for training young pointing dogs.  It’s also just right for flushing dogs.  Spaniels tend to hunt methodically and close to their handlers, and retrievers can easily be taught to stay within woodcock shooting distance.

Speaking of shooting distance, it’s close.  Often very close.  My golden retriever flushes most birds within 20 yards of me, often it’s closer to 10.  This is good, because woodcock like cover so thick that you rarely get a clear shot beyond 30 yards.  Naturally, this affects gun and ammunition selection.  A light, fast-handling double gun gives you the best chance of getting off a shot with an appropriate choke.  I recently bought a Weatherby Orion with 26-inch barrels and a single-selective trigger.  I couldn’t wait to hunt woodcock with it.  But after two hunts, I have given up on it as a woodcock gun until I grow more accustomed to shifting the barrel selector in the excitement of a flush.  Instead, I’m sticking to guns with double triggers.

Fortunately, I own two guns that fit this description: the aforementioned Merkel side-by-side and a 1970s-vintage Zoli over-and-under.  Not so fortunately, the Merkel is choked full and extra-full.  The Zoli is choked full and modified.  The Merkel clearly was intended for pass-shooting driven birds, and the Zoli’s chokes are perfect for doves or pheasants.  Both are completely wrong for woodcock.

I solve this problem with spreader loads.  These shells include a cardboard baffle separating the shot column into four compartments inside the shot shell.  Once the shot leaves the barrel, the cardboard catches air and scatters the pellets, giving you a great killing pattern at about 15 yards, regardless of choke.  I load the tightest-choked barrel with a spreader shell and the other with a light load of No.  8 or 9 shot.  I learned long ago to reach for the

appropriate trigger for the target’s distance.  I hope one day to develop the same reflex for the Orion’s trigger selector.

Willa and I went out again today, Nov.  1.  We had four flushes.  I fired five shots.  We killed zero birds.  It was a wonderful hunt.

Yea Cubs.

Ride on, Don Quixote.e

-Boundless Potential

-Youth Replenished for Aging Hunters

By Jim Low

Only 7 a.m., and my mind already wandered.  The temperature was in the low 40s, not bad for bowhunting in early October.  I was excited about being in my favorite tree stand, 20 yards from the intersection of two deer trails, a creek and a clover field.  Yet, I had to discipline myself to stay a while longer before climbing down to have breakfast and run errands.  A moment later I was very glad I had.

A flash of motion in the pasture 100 yards away caught my eye. Before I could fully raise my crossbow, two does had jumped the fence onto our property, crossed the creek and bounded to within 40 yards.  Already spooked by something, they now were standing directly downwind of me and were on full alert, tails up, ears swiveling and noses trying to pinpoint the source of human scent.  The larger doe decided it was time to leave. She took a dozen quick, tense steps, moving cross-wind until she reached the trail junction a mere 20 yards from my stand.  There, she paused to test the wind again. It was a fatal mistake.

The sharp thwack of fiberglass limbs snapping forward was followed by a hollow “whop” as the bolt struck home.  Startled by the sound and taken through both lungs by a 1 1/8-inch broadhead, the doe bolted toward toward the creek bottom at the northern limit of my property.  A moment after she disappeared from sight, I heard a crash, then brief thrashing.  My first crossbow deer was unconscious within seconds of the shot.

I retrieved my bolt, which was buried 6 inches in the soil even after passing through ribs and vitals. Then I looked for a sprig of shrubby St.  John’s wort to place in the doe’s mouth.  It might seem silly to some, but I like the old Indian tradition of thanking the deer for giving its life.  After doing so, I set to work.

WHY A CROSSBOW?

I sold my compound bow last year as a concession to age.  Surgery on both wrists put me out of the bowhunting business several years ago and I missed it.  So, halfway through archery deer season, I got a hunting methods exemption card allowing me to hunt with a crossbow.  I never got a shot at a deer, but it felt good to be back in the game.

Today, no one needs an exemption to hunt with a crossbow in Missouri.  The Conservation Department made crossbows a legal method for the archery hunting starting this year.  This means that hunters with joint problems and those who lack the strength to draw and hold a vertical bow now can enjoy archery hunting.

My new bow – a Parker ThunderHawk – throws bolts, as crossbow arrows are called, at 320 feet per second – 221 mph.  The optional scope with a lighted, multi-dot reticle allows accurate shooting at dusk and dawn.  I also opted for a rope-and-pully device that makes cocking manageable for almost anyone.

Even with these technological advantages, the most important things that define archery hunting are as true with crossbows as with longbows.  Shots must be taken within 40 yards, 50 at most.  Beyond that, arrow drop is too rapid for accurate shooting.  As with vertical bows, shot placement is more critical than when hunting with a gun, because there is no devastating shock or ability to break large bones.  And if you miss your fist shot, the complicated cocking process makes a second shot with a crossbow even less likely than with a vertical bow.

My first crossbow kill was textbook, with the doe giving me a close, broadside shot, and the broadhead piercing both lungs.  If I had any doubts about the ThunderHawk’s ability to do a vertical bow’s job, they evaporated when I walked up on my doe.  She was a fine animal, sleek in her new winter coat and in the full flush of vigorous youth.  After checking and field-dressing her, I drove her to a nearby locker plant and donated her to the Share the Harvest program.  Her lean, organic, free-range meat will feed a family fallen experiencing hard times.

I did keep a few things, however.  One was her beautiful loin meat, which I harvested before driving to the locker plant.  I dropped these off at the home of an old friend.  Joel and his lovely wife, Marty, love venison, but declining health has ended his hunting career.  His delighted surprise when I handed him the prize cuts was worth their weight in gold.

I also kept memories of the crisp morning air, the blaze of sumac and dogwood leaves in the field edge and the inexpressible thrill of that moment when the doe’s life hung in the balance.  When she might have turned and run but didn’t.  When I might have decided to wait and see if a buck was trailing the pair of does.  When my shot might have missed.

Possibilities.  That’s what October is to me.  Boundless potential.  This might be the only deer I kill this year.  I might or might not shoot a turkey for Thanksgiving.  The spiraling woodcock might elude me and my dog, and ducks might arrive and be gone before I get a good crack at them.  This could be the last year I climb a tree and watch nature’s parade.  But in the middle of Missouri’s golden month, everything is still possible.