In 1953, the early December opening of goose and duck season, was hailed by hunters for the rain and high winds that back, to back, to back, weather systems fostered. The wind would blow from the southeast for 2 or 3 days days, then blow from the northwest for a few days, the cycle repeated continuously for the entire season, then add in a couple of real northers and you had real goose weather! Our group of hunters, sneakers would better apply, took full advantage of the weather to try the patience of many of the rice farmers, game wardens and our parents.

The area north of Westheimer, west of Highway 6, along FM 1091, all the way to Fulshear on the Brazos River was prime goose country, now it is subdivisions and shopping malls and the geese have vacated the premises. Back then, after a driver passed Post Oak Road, street signs changed from Westheimer to FM 1091, today Westheimer extends for miles past Highway 6 and is the center of commerce for west Houston!

Around 11:00 AM, the last day of goose and duck season, four of us were heading home from a reasonably successful goose hunt, success being measured by; a vehicle not being stuck beyond retrieval, none of the hunters injured, not being stopped by the law and, maybe even a few geese. We were coming in, heading east on FM 1091 and wishing we could get permission to hunt on Cinco Ranch, the large ranch on our left, twenty sections or more, laying north of 1091, all the way to Highway 6. The ranch now sports malls, country clubs, shooting ranges and some very, large, pricey, subdivisions.

Probably 400 yards north of the road, inside the fence of Cinco Ranch, we spotted a huge gaggle of geese and right away one of our group said that we should sneak ‘em. After a quick uwey, we stopped on the soggy shoulder, donned our hip boots, slipped on our hooded parkas and grabbed our shotguns. Going over and under the barbwire fence, then hitting the ground, we started our sneak.

A long crawl is 400 yards, shotguns cradled in our arms, military style, keeping our heads down, we inched along and with each inch the noise of the geese cackling grew louder. No alarm calls so we were doing OK, inches turned into feet, feet into yards as we reached the 100 yard mark, only 60 or so, more to go, then raise up and let fly!

Hearing a strange peeping sound, I knew it wasn’t a rattler, then, the whirring of 20 or more quail bursting into the air startled me so much that I leaped to my feet and shouted a few choice expletives! That’s all it took for the dreaded alarm call to sound and thousands of geese spooked and got airborne. We all stood, we could only watch as they gained altitude and honked their way to safety.

That was our first, and last, and only sneak on Cinco Ranch!

As we were driving to the Honey Hole, it dawned on me that this would be my last trip of the year to this fantastic hunting spot and for any more ducks I’d have to wait until the special teal season in the middle of September. Mickey, Patrick and I arrived at our spot, it was still wet and slippery from the rain, we’ve had rain for the past 2 days, but we slogged in, put out the decoys and settled back to await legal shooting time.

It’s always tempting to pop one a minute or two before time, but we didn’t have the chance, because no ducks showed. Ten minutes after, 5 big ducks, too gloomy to identify them, were cruising along, noticed our decoys, circled and set their wings. We popped up and greeted them, 6 booms later, 4 were down, big fat gadwalls. We picked up 2 more singles and by 9:00 we were gathering up the decoys and started our walk out.

On our way back to Goldthwaite, Patrick noticed a big bunch of ducks in a winter wheat field. We turned around to get a better look at them. It wasn’t just a bunch of ducks, there were over 2,000 feeding in this one wet, field, it almost looked like blackbirds, but rest assured, they were all kinds of ducks! No wonder we finished so early, the ducks were out feeding and not around the Honey Hole. Patrick cleaned ‘em and his take was that they were northern birds and had fattened up on their way down, in fact, I’ll have to trim the fat off of the breasts!

We have found a wonderful way to cook ducks and now with the season closing, I’ll let everyone in on the secret. Take 4 duck breasts, trim off all the fat, then soak in milk for 24 hours. After soaking, for big ducks, cut the breast in half, then wash off. For teal, no need to halve the breasts, but still wash. Cut in half 4 pieces of bacon, then slice up 2 jalapenos, we use jalapeno quarters from the store, lay the 8 pieces of bacon on the duck breasts, top each with a slice of jalapeno and grill slowly, until the bacon is done. Rice goes well with this, and if you’re a wine drinker, a good Texas Red tops it off.

On our way home we were already planning for the next duck season!

Either hunting quail or still hunting, deer, I had walked over almost all of the 2,000 acres of our McCulloch County hunting lease. One thing I had noticed was that in the winter the stock tanks almost always had ducks on them and many times I would flush and even pop a couple of shots at them, in season of course.

Noticing one particular spring fed, stock tank, almost a full acre, with a tall dam on one end, that was nearly impossible to sneak, I had chosen this one for my first, formal duck hunt on our deer lease. This stock tank was long and narrow and the end where I would hunt had a rock bottom and was only a foot or two deep. Since the water was so shallow, I wouldn’t even need to take Gus to retrieve ‘em and he could rest up for the afternoon’s quail hunt. There were several mesquite trees around its edge and a rough blind wouldn’t be hard to throw together, then I could put my 12, plastic decoys to good use, decoys that had been used with good results in Texas, Arizona and Georgia!

In the dark, pulling on my well used hip boots, using dead mesquite limbs, I hastily scrambled a rough blind together, then set the decoys in two groups, placing a group of 4 on my right and the other 8 on my left, leaving a space between the two where the ducks could land. In my makeshift blind, squatting on one knee, I loaded my 20, gauge pump with high velocity 6’s, (lead shot because the Gulf coast was the only place where steel shot were required) and waited.

As shooting time neared, the 12 plastic decoys were bouncing on the ripples and I could already hear ducks quacking and whistling. Shooting time and the first ones to circle and set their wings were 5 sleek, graceful pintails, bam, bam, bam, my pump barked and 3 splashed into the water. With a minimum of calling, ducks piled in and being able to clearly identify the drakes of the various species – mallards, widgeon and gadwall, I thinned them out. One thing stands out in my memory, the teal, beautiful green wing teal that would swoop over the decoys, circle them, set their wings, then at the last moment, speed of somewhere else, there must have been 3 or 4 bunches of them.

The most important thing was proper identification of ducks on the wing, because back then, the limit was 8 drakes, however no open season on canvasbacks or redheads and we were allowed a mallard and pintail hen. So just shooting drakes, I was elated to get my limit in just under 30 minutes, all big ducks, shooting 8 with 10 shots, having to shoot two twice!

As the morning ended, there was a touch of gloom to my story, bad news, I picked up my decoys and carried 4 to the bank, laid them down next to my toesack and returned to the water for 4 more. The next thing I knew, along came a cow, stepped on a decoy and smashed it beyond repair. Now I only had 11 plastic decoys. Thinking back, I should have carried my sack out with me and only made one trip, but I’m really lucky that the cow didn’t step on all 4 of the decoys!

Driving out to my Katy Prairie lease, I had noticed on the next ranch to the east, several thousand geese rafted up in a cut rice field and with an east wind, I began figuring that if somehow they flushed, they would circle back with the wind, then, maybe their path would bring them over toward me on my lease hunkered down behind a rice levee? My chances were extremely slim, but if someone or something busted them up, maybe a 60 MM, mortar, who knew?

No football this Sunday because the Houston Oilers had lost a first round playoff game the week before and since the weather was awful, almost cold, windy, misty alternating with a light rain, I had thought this afternoon would be a great time to run out to my lease and try to bag a couple of low flying geese. When I arrived, except for 2 hunters on the far end of the property, over 2 miles away, I was by myself.

We weren’t supposed to shoot any quail, but I took Gus, my Brittany spaniel, along anyway. If anyone, like the rice farmer asked, he was retrieving geese for me and me not even knowing if he would bring in a goose because he certainly didn’t like to retrieve ducks! Wouldn’t you know it, walking out to my hunting spot, a brushy fence corner behind a rice levee, Gus locked down hard and quickly slipping two, 8’s, that just happened to be in my pocket, into my O/U, I walked into the covey, about a dozen birds, and they came rocketing out of the fence row!

To honor Gus’ point I had to shoot one, so I picked out a cock and popped him! Gus made an excellent retrieve and reloading the 4’s, I snuck the quail into a pocket of my hunting coat and, not going after the singles, walked a little faster, down to my fence corner.

Less than an hour later, that something to flush the geese proved mot to be a mortar, but a Piper Cub that swooped low over them and honking in protest, up they came! My 3 inch, magnum, O/U was loaded with number 4 lead shot, lead then since the steel shot ban wouldn’t start until the next year, then sliding 2 more shells between the fingers of my left hand, began my wait.

Sure enough, the geese, thousands of them, caught the wind and were barreling toward me. Deciding that I would wait until the first birds were almost over me, then cover them up, just like an incoming dove, let fly, quickly reload, then take 2 more shots. My plan worked, on my first 2 shots, 2 snows came tumbling down. Quickly reloading the shells from my left hand, I picked out several big birds that were swinging away from me, took two more long shots and they both tumbled down, 2 more snows.

The first 2 had fallen quite close to us and Gus was worrying over one of them when I sent him out to look for the others. With my help, Gus found one crumpled in the fencerow, then looking for what seemed like an hour, he finally found the last one. It was a runner with only a broken wing and when Gus caught it and brought it in, it was a funny sight, since the goose looked to be almost his size.

Gus had saved the day finding the last goose, but anyway, I don’t think the rice farmer will miss one quail!

Last Saturday, Patrick Berg and Brian had limited out at the Honey Hole, a good norther was coming, it was very windy and cloudy, so this past Monday, Mickey Donahoo, Patrick and I went there for a go at the ducks.  We walked into a new spot sheltered from the wind, put out our decoys that included a flying Mojo duck and a feeding one, built us some ground blinds and waited for the ducks.

Twenty minutes before shooting time there was no mad rush of ducks like on our past trips so we began wondering what was going on?  Shooting time, still no ducks and 10 minutes later a flight o 5 big ducks circled our decoys and set their wings, big ducks, probably mallards, but we couldn’t identify them in the gloom.  Seeing them more clearly, their orange feet standing out, I picked out two flying almost together, one a greenhead, the other a hen, I shot them, they plopped into the water and I swung on one making tracks for safer climes!  This was an easy shot, the greenhead was climbing and gaining altitude and all I had to do was set the front sight on him and bam, he tumbled into the water.

We had fair shooting for the next 20 minutes, fair shooting, but excellent dog work, we bagged 4 more, then it stopped, nothing was flying, so we packed everything up and walked out.

Not a bad mornings hunt, our bag was 3 mallards, 2 gadwall, a teal and a ring neck, pictured above. We then made tentative plans to make another trip on Thursday.

Before sunup on Thursday, we were creeping into a strange area on the other side of the Honey Hole, creeping because we were following the map on Patrick’s hand held.  Finally arriving at the spot, we got out and began unloading, loaded up the cart and headed for a spot blocked from the wind.

We picked out a nice spot (to us), a secluded little opening in the weeds where we placed the decoys, positioned our ground blinds and waited for shooting time.  Shooting time came and went, a lot of ducks were flying, but our decoys attracted no attention.  The ducks were landing about a hundred yards out from our decoys, so we decided to move closer to the action.  Going into high gear, we moved the ground blinds and decoys, but all of this took up 15 more minutes.  Thirty minutes into our hunt, we hadn’t popped a cap!

Finally a ring neck buzzed past the decoys, looked them over, set wings and bam, Patrick dropped him.  This started a trickle of ducks, all of us scoring, but we only knocked down 3 more ring necks, a single teal and a gadwall drake, 6 ducks after missing the best part.  Patrick had a lunch appointment so at 9:00 AM we cut it off, packed up and headed back to Goldthwaite.

Here’s Mickey and our morning haul.

Early this past Friday, the 13th if you’re superstitious, Mickey Donahoo and I took off for his hunting lease, a 4, hour drive from Goldthwaite, with the objective of bagging a javelina, or collared peccary, Pecari tajaca and a feral pig.  The lease is situated 15 miles off the beaten track between Sonora and Ozona and it’s nearly 4,000 acres of rough and tumble, west Texas, including lots of rocks, is a beautiful place!  A little after 11:00 AM we arrived at this “oasis” in the desert, 2 cabins and a quite livable, old ranch house, where we stayed for the next 2 days.

Finishing the chores, filling the corn/protein feeders and resetting the feeder timers, Mickey cut them back to one second’s worth of corn and protein cubes at 7:00 AM.  After a quick lunch that we finished at 3:00 PM, we were headed out into a big flat, to a blind, feeder combination to await a hoped for javelina, when we rounded a corner and by a water trough, (like my old one, see my post “[The Water Trough], September 15, 2011”),  were 43 turkeys.  Here’s a shot of the water trough, with 10 of the big birds, they were spread out way too far for a wide angle “shot”, so I got the next one of 13 more, then they flushed, almost like a covey of quail.
    

Arrival at the blind was anticlimactic, especially looking at the crude structure pictured, it was near falling down, in fact I told Mickey, “I don’t think the blind’s floor would hold the both of us, 200 pounders!”  We took along an old tarp for a little head covering, draped it over the blind and awaited the “hoped for” javelina.  The feeder went off and during its process, out walked a javelina, a good sized one that we weighed later at 45 pounds and I shot it, possibly the shortest javelina hunt on record!  We took these pictures and a close up of the animal’s tusks.

Not 15 minutes later, out walked more javelina, big ones and little ones rooting around for the corn and protein.  We didn’t notice anything about the food being thrown by the feeder, but as we were leaving, we found a dog chow sack on a 4 wheeler suspiciously owned by the owner of the blind we used.  The picture shows 5.

The next morning, up before the sun, with the temp at 24, we bundled up and headed out in the other direction, to the top of the flat mountain for a go with the feral pigs.  My blind was the most spacious and comfortable one that I had ever used, a true pleasure, but these super digs, including the rooting around the feeder, didn’t yield a feral pig.

One for two isn’t bad anyway and the javelina’s back strap will be wonderful, grilled with bacon and jalapenos!

Remembering my first trip to Rick Haney’s ranch, north of Abilene, this trip set the tone for the rest of my visits for the next 10 years! This time I was exposed in grand style to the excellent food prepared in an old, original, bar-b-que pit, to the fabulous hunting, the inherent dangers and, surprisingly, to an unnatural being!

After a 6, hour drive from my office up to the ranch, it was too late for much of a quail hunt, so we decided to go out and try to shoot a feral hog. Driving for a couple of miles to the place where the road ended at a creek, Rick and I got out of his truck and walked across the shallow, stream. After crossing, he sent me up a hill to watch for a hog in the small valley below and then he walked to the next hill and took up his position.

At last light I hadn’t seen anything, but Rick’s rifle boomed and shortly he walked up and yelled toward my “hide”, “Hey, come and give me a hand.” Heading his way, we drug the 100 pound, plus young male, hog back to the truck. He gutted the hog, we loaded it up, then headed back to the old ranch house.

We processed the hog, ate a late supper prepared on the old pit, then hit the sack with visions of quail dancing in our head. Waking up once during the night, I heard a clump, clump, clump out on his porch, that circled two sides of the house, but I paid no attention thinking it was Rick walking around.

Early the next morning when we got up, it was cold and I asked Rick if he had been up walking around during the night? His reply was, “No, it must have been animals under the house. They bump into the cross beams and make noise.” Pretty good answer, I thought.

Starting near his house, we worked east toward the creek near to where he shot the hog yesterday. Putting Gus out, soon we bumped into a nice covey of birds and shot 4. A good start as we continued hunting along the creek. Finding several more coveys, for the morning hunt we accumulated a good mess of birds. We loaded up Gus and headed back to the ranch house, cleaned and iced the birds, ate a sandwich, took a quick “power nap”, then got in the truck and headed back to the creek. Walking across, we put out Rooster and began our afternoon hunt.

Not having gone a hundred yards, Rooster locked down on a hard point, we walked in and “Whirrrrr”, a nice covey of about 20 birds took flight. Bam, bam, bam, bam, we unloaded on the birds and 3 fell to our fusillade. Rick and I fetched a bird each and Rooster hunted dead and after several circles, found the last one. Rick said, “I marked those birds going over the hill, right by those mesquites. I’ll loop around and try to push them back toward you. You walk on ahead and we’ll meet about 400 yards up the creek.”

Rooster ranged out up over the hill and loosing track of him for a minute, I pressed on up the creek. The next thing I knew, here came Rooster running fast and right behind him a really big hog, 250 pounds or more! Rooster was heading my way with the hog in hot pursuit. What to do? No trees big enough to climb! I can’t out run him! Shoot him with my trusty, 20, gauge, skeet grade, pump, loaded with number eight shot? Since hog’s have a thick, muscle like covering, over their shoulders and head, bird shot won’t faze them, and my trusty .22 mag pistol, was back in the truck.

Then, I remembered a line from the late author and classic chronicler of African hunting adventures, Robert Ruark and a novel about lion hunting, that if you shot a charging lion in the nose with a shotgun, it would stop the charge. So I stood my ground, shouldered my weapon, and shooting right over Rooster’s back, bam, bam, bam, as Rooster ducked behind me, I noticed the shots didn’t even faze the hog, Ruark must have been using 00 buck! The hog came so close to me I could clearly see his tusks, the moisture droplets on his nose and even the individual hairs on his back. It literally blew past me, within six inches of my left leg and as he passed by, my trusty dog, Rooster, quickly moved to my front.

The hog kept going. Sitting down on the ground, in case of a return engagement with the hog, I reloaded my shotgun as Rick walked up and said, “Birds? You OK?” I replied, “Yeah, but do I have a story to tell you.”

I was lucky again, because that big hog could have inflicted major damage to my body parts!

Hunting with Rick for the next 10 years, I became intimately involved with the midnight thumping too!

This past Monday, way before sunup, Mickey Donahoo, Patrick Berg and I met at the Baptist Church and loaded everything into Patrick’s truck, then headed off for the Honey Hole, see my post of December 22, 2011, “[Covered Up]”.  On our arrival there were 2 more hunters getting ready to walk in, but they told us they weren’t going in very far, so we decided to walk the extra half-mile to give them plenty of room.   In the dark, we loaded everything on to Patrick’s cart (pulled by him of course) and headed on out.

Getting the decoys out, including our Mojo duck, setting up our ground blinds, we finished everything 20 minutes before legal shooting time and waited for the sun to come up.  Ten minutes before shooting time, one bunch of teal swooped by, circled around, set their wings, looked over our spread, didn’t like something and headed off for a safer destination.  This time we weren’t treated to a “duck explosion”, but had to settle for singles and doubles, creating a problem for yours truly!

Wanting to shoot 3-inch shells, I had left my twelve gauge, autoloader (2-3/4 shells only) at home and took my O/U, that turned out to be a big mistake for me!  The O/U is a great gun for shooting clay birds or pigeons, see my post of March 6, 2008, “[The Pigeon Shoot]”.  The gun handles well, points sweetly, but for shooting fast flying, teal, it’s a little barrel heavy and unlike spring, summer and fall shooting sports, when you’re bundled up for the cold, it doesn’t shoulder very good!

For the first 2 teal, I was “a day late and a dollar short”, with Mickey and Patrick knocking down both birds.  Mumbling under my breath, I hadn’t yet figured out the problem, all I could do was cover back up and wait for the next ones.  The next teal was a crossing shot that Mickey downed before I could even get the gun pointed, then the wind changed from our backs, the north, to the west, now blowing from our right to the left.

Being on the right of our set up, the birds were now decoying to my right in a spot between the edge of our spread and a dozen coots, confidence decoys that Patrick had put out to help draw in the ducks.  As the first 2 teal plopped into the opening, my partners sprung to the attack, firing 2 shots and splashing both.  This was nice, making our total 5 ducks, but their shots were fired over my head, not to my liking.

Sitting out the rest of the morning, I didn’t take any more shots, only dispatching a couple of cripples and like my daddy once said, “Boy, if you got limits each time out, they’d call it shooting instead of hunting.”  Not a good day for me, a big fat zero on ducks, but Mickey and Patrick did limit out making our drive home bearable.

However, there is a sequel to this story.  For Christmas Layla gave me a .17 HMR revolver, better said she surprised me, literally floored me, however there was a problem with the pistol.  The pistol wouldn’t cycle properly and the spent shells wouldn’t eject.  Taking it back to where she purchased it, they allowed me to swap them the malfunctioning pistol for a new, pump shotgun that will handle 3-1/2, 3 and 2-3/4 inch shells.  We’re going back to the Honey Hole on Saturday and I’ll let everyone know how well (I hope) it works.

This year’s white tail deer season ended this past Sunday afternoon and for my family it was a huge success.  Colton and Randy scored with real nice bucks, Tim Allbee, one of Brad’s friends, picked up a spike and overall we harvested 5 doe.

Mickey Donahoo kicked things off with one of our Goldthwaite footballers, scoring on a spike.  Here’s a game cam “shot” of the hunter and the spike.

Three weeks later, Randy out waited a nice buck, shot him, then, with a neighbors help found the buck the next morning.  Check out my post, [“Deer Season, November 27, 2011, (Perseverance)”].

Here’s the buck, tucked in a small clearing, where Spike the wonder Dachshund, closely followed by Wesley found him.

Almost a month later, Colton and I out waited this very good, old, buck.  Several game cam “shots” showed that he’d been showing up at the corn feeder at MaMaw’s Blind around 7:30 AM, so over the Christmas holidays we decided to concentrate on that spot.  It paid off and on Christmas Eve, right on time, Colton nailed him, one shot with my .270, dropping him in his tracks!  Look at the post on “[Deer Season, December 26, 2011″].

On a sadder note, the spike that Rebekah missed, later was jumping a fence, on the way over got his foot caught in the top 2 wires and wasn’t found until a week ago.  Here’s the spike in healthier times.

Eldred Lawrence was a friend of Buck, my former father-in-law and we had been acquaintances in years past, but hadn’t seen one another in 8 or 10.  Purely by chance, on a Saturday afternoon in 1990, he and I met up.  At the time he was looking for another gun on a 2,000 acre, quail/dove lease down in Crystal City, Texas.  The next day Layla and I drove down, looked it over and quickly decided it would work out fine for us.

Being on the lease for three years, from first hunt to last, this was some of the consistently best shooting I have ever experienced!  It was a three-hour plus drive from our home in Cypress, so I could leave at 5:00 AM and be hunting by 8:30, then be back by 8:30 PM and, thinking back, gas prices were around $.75 per gallon.

In January of 1992, Randy, and I had planned a hunt to tie in with quail season and the special dove season and, wouldn’t you know it, one of us had a conflict.  He had to be back to Cypress by 6:00 PM for an event at his church.  This past summer, Randy had received, and accepted, the call to enter the ministry and had just entered Southwest Baptist Seminary in Ft. Worth, so we decided to leave early and try to get away right after lunch.

Just outside of Crystal City. Gus and I are “on point” and walking in on the birds.

We arrived early, it was a chilly morning for south Texas, and along with Gus, my Brittany, were hunting as the sun came up.  The shooting was good and within an hour we had half limits of quail.  We were hunting around an old WW II, Quonset hut full of milo seeds.    Milo is a sorghum grass that heads out and is harvested for cattle food and both white wing and mourning dove, along with quail, find the seeds irresistible.  As we walked toward the hut we could see the doves swarming around it.

Randy picked a spot at one end of the hut and I got on the other, the shooting was fast and furious, so we took a break and counted up, both of us had our limits.  We stopped shooting and both said this was too easy!

Gus was worn out from retrieving doves.  He would sit by my leg, run out and get each bird I shot, then run back and let me take it from his mouth.  He was coughing and spitting out feathers because when a dog picks up a dove, his teeth will cause the feathers to come out in his mouth. Since we had a time limit and our dog was worn out, I revived him with a can of dog food and soon he was ready to hunt some more.

Randy and I enjoyed the break and by 10:00 AM we were chasing a bevy of “blues”, (scalies or scaled quail), noted runners and the race was on.  The bob’s on this lease were excellent runners, but the “blues” left them in the dust.  This covey ran us and left us panting, but we thinned their numbers by 6 birds.  And soon, we ran across another covey of bobs and filled out our limits.

Gus retrieving one, of the many quail we bagged on our Crystal City hunt.

Taking stock of our situation we knew that we each had limits of doves, along with limits of quail and looking at my watch I saw it was 11:00 AM.  We sat down, skinned the quail, breasted the doves and by noon our hands were washed, the birds iced and we were headed home.  Randy made his activity on time and since 2004, he’s been a Baptist Pastor in San Marcos, Texas.

Four limits in four hours, on two species of game, still stands as a family record.