I've spent the past few days down around Bozeman looking for places to hunt. There are some block management areas within a couple hours so Jill and I headed out to one that looked promising. Not really knowing what to expect or where to go, we definitely did more driving than hunting but that's what happens when looking for new spots to hunt. Having maps definitely helps but the maps don't show cover or much in the way of typography so until you actually get there, it's kind of a crap shoot. We finally wound up on the Shields River near Clyde Park.
We stopped at a parking area and headed out with dogs in tow and shotguns at the ready. The parking area was on a bluff above the river bottom next to a coral we had to walk past before we could get to a spot where we could start hunting. It was about a 400 yard walk to the river.
Walking along the river, on top of the bluff I spotted a gadwal in a little back eddy. Half sneaking up on it and half just bum rushing it, I got into position for a shot before it jumped. Gadwals are puddle ducks that can get moving pretty quick. This one was no exception and as it busted up off the water and headed out, I raised the gun and blasted it; one shot and it dropped dead falling just on the edge of the eddy.
We had to move quickly before the duck got swept down-stream in the current. Cutter still doesn't exactly understand his role yet in the whole shooting/retrieving gig so although I fulfilled my obligation, he fell a little short. (He did however, get more excited than scared as the gun went off, which is a huge step from where he was a few weeks ago.)
Still on top the bluff, considerably higher than the water, I ran down-stream of where the duck dropped to find a safe way to traverse the steep cliff. The plan was to get down close to the water where there was a little ledge above a cut-bank and work my way back up to the duck where it drifted in circles; grabbing just enough off the edge of the main current to pull it downstream and then just before hitting the main current, right in the pocket where the water splits between rushing further down or getting pulled back up, the duck would get sucked back in and up for another trip. It was safe for now, always getting sucked back into the eddy but eventually the inertia of the circling eddy would carry the duck out into the main current and it would be lost.
The weather he been very cold and snowy the past 2 days so there was a couple inches of snow and some ice forming in the soft water of the river. Most of the ponds where frozen solid but if there was moving water, the ice had yet to grab hold. However, regardless of where the water was, it was hovering around freezing and definitely wasn't looking all that inviting standing 20 feet above it looking down. And the cut-bank I was looking into was deep--so deep I couldn't see bottom and the water was gushing.
I worked my way down the cliff holding on to my shot-gun with one hand and willow shoots with the other. My only safety net was those slippery little willow shoots. Although I was moving fast, I was testing my footing and my grip before fully committing. Getting down to the ledge, I steered upstream to the eddy and worked towards it stepping over willows and carefully placing one foot directly in front of the other as the ledge grew more and more narrow.
At one point the ledge disappeared as a chunk of the bank had been washed away. I had to make a quick little jump past it and was relieved to find I'm still pretty agile for my old age. Just a few more yards and I would be at the eddy where the duck cycled.
Unfortunately, the momentum of the duck circling inside the eddy gained just enough to send it to the outer edge and into the main current before I could reach it. As it was sent downstream past me, I had to make a snap decision. I saw there was a riffle a ways down and figured I could get out in the main current far enough to grab the duck as it rushed past. The water in the riffle wouldn't get deeper than the thirteen inches of boots I had to play with. I orientated my body back downstream and took off. I would have to get down there before the duck did. The race was on.
With the quickened pace of my actions combined with the fact it was really cold and my legs were becoming more and more clumsy, my agility and grace was definitely compromised. (Apparently, so was my judgement.) In a few short moments, my day went from being pretty good to full-on sucking ass.
My first few steps downstream were promising. I was gaining on the drifting bird and I actually thought I would catch it until I came to the washed out portion of the bank. Gun in one hand and a fist-full of willow in the other, I jumped to cross the opening. Immediately I felt what was my safety net in one instant become my nemesis the next as a willow branch wrapped around my lead foot causing it to come up well short of its intended destination.
Have you ever had one of those falling dreams? Well, this was nothing like it accept the whole fear thing because in the dream, it's the fear that wakes you up and you don't get the pain of hitting the ground or the rush of literally freezing water like I was inevitably going to experience.
I gripped onto those willows as tightly as I could with one finally attempt to circumvent the inevitable but as my body swung and I felt the branches slipping, I was left with the reality that I could keep fighting or just let go and at least save myself from going in head-first. I did let go but just a little too late and my foot was still tangled up in the brush so although it wasn't quite head-first, I landed in a position that didn't save me at all from taking a full head-to-toe bath.
In all my time on the water and in the back country pushing the limits, I've had the pleasure of experiencing the shock of cold water rushing over my face a few times and let me tell you, you never get used to it. The shock of that cold of water always brings out one reaction--to gasp for air and although I knew that wouldn't serve me well I couldn't help it. I sucked in a healthy dose of water before being able to lift my head up. It was impossible to control my breathing, which can cause a bit of panic in and of itself let alone piling on the fact that I couldn't find the bottom and the current was pulling me hard to a place I could only imagine. I had no control and that's pretty much the worst feeling in the world.
A lot of things were going through my head in those short few seconds that seemed to last way longer than any three seconds should. I didn't want to let go of my gun and lose it forever so...I didn't. I also, strangely enough, was still focused on that fricken duck and I actually caught myself looking back for it thinking maybe I could grab it before making my way to the softer side of the river and on to the bank. What brought me to more rational thoughts however, was the reality of the sweepers that were hanging off the bank. I snapping out of recovery mode for the duck, and pulled myself to the soft side, which brought out some more disconcerting thoughts as my legs were so numb from the cold I almost had to shout out load to get them to listen to what I wanted them to do.
Feeling a little more in control as I stood up in thigh-deep water I let my thoughts go back to the duck. I figured I was already wet so I finished the race downstream and cut the little bastard off and pulled it from the water. (Gadwals are about half the size of a mallard. Nice work and well worth the effort I would say.)
It was Jill's first time out hunting and we were only about 15 minutes into it when I went swimming so I felt a little guilty and honestly, with all the wool and layers I had on, I felt pretty good so I figured we could at least finish up the bottom we were hunting before going back to the truck. Don't ever do that. I'm just saying. When I finally did start feeling cold the walk back to the truck was brutal. With temps in the teens, it didn't take long for my jacket, pants and boots to freeze completely solid. I couldn't even pull the zippers down to take them off once at the truck until we could get the heat flowing and thaw out. The drive home felt like I was sitting in a cold diaper too but in the end, all was well. I didn't get the dreaded pneumonia they all talk about and I'm virtually unscathed--just had to cut the trip a little short.
Keep 'em where they live....
P.S. REDEMPTION
We ate that little bastard the next day during the Packers game as an appetizer. I filleted the breasts out and stuffed them with spinach, onion, soy, garlic, and wrapped them in bacon. It was f'n good and thinking back, almost worth the swim.
And thanks for the help Cutter. At least he posed for the picture.
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