A Bollocks hunt

Bollocks is the largest of our ponds by surface area, and our lowest producer simply by dint of the fact that it is under-hunted. There's a great story about the old timers who first found the pond back in the day; one ended up removing his trousers and climbing a tree to get his bearings and thus the pond was named. I'd have loved to have seen it back then in the days of the grey duck, when waves of the birds would descend, the shooters would then pop up and shoot the birds on the water. How things have changed. The old buggers when I began shooting in 1979 talked about the old buggers of their youth; travelling the river on cabin craft and punts. They'd smash hundreds of ducks; I wonder how many made it to the table? The river then was winding, dank and festooned with willows all around; now the banks are cleared and the river widened. The greys will never return like that.

Bollocks

Dad and I met at the landing Friday 8pm , quickly loaded The Booger and headed off down river. Given that dad had used the hut the night before he'd left the fire set and punt ready for us to roll, so we grabbed a the decoys and went out to set up. At this point there was a breeze rolling; but not the mini gale we were expecting? Were the weather forecasters wrong again? Having set and reset the decoys to our liking it was back to the hut for a few quiets; I wanted to drink myself into a Stone's induced coma to try and get a full night's sleep. Pity I had to get up 3 times in the night for toilet stops... the alarm went off waayyyyy too early so I rattled around making coffee, bacon and eggs and then it was time to get going. At 4 there's been only a breeze, but the breeze was building and by the time shooting time came around the breeze was a full blown wind, the rare northerly of which duck hunting dreams are made in our area!

Swamp light, never seen anywhere else

The wind was steady and ruffled the exposed end of the pond. We had our decoys tucked into the still water except for a group of actives on a jerk string, they'd come into play soon. The first birds were moving, prior to the sun coming up but they were on their way to destinations only they knew and were not to be distracted. The first duck to fall was a grey that sprang in over the trees, ducking into the wind shadow and pulling up to be met with a load of #3 steel. After that the birds came in ones and twos and the wind steadily increased.



Zulu retrieves

The decoys on the jerk string worked a treat, a number of times mallards would zoom in in the wind, curl around and set straight for the group of ducks moving around on the edge of the wind shadow. Shots were varied but with birds decoying we could mostly pick our shots.




Increasing bag

Wind ripples

Rain spattered down from time to time, quite simply as a backdrop to a duck hunt you'd be hard pressed to find better conditions. We chipped away until noon, when it was time to go and see if rain had raised the water in the trees surrounding our area. I waded through slop and crap into a small pond area that was full of teal - or so I thought until a small group of mallards jumped - but my shot was to no avail. As the dog and I moved through another mallard jumped and I waited for a gap in the trees before taking her. We waited at the area for 20 minutes to see if anything returned and I put a shot in on a mallard drake that caught him squarely enough, but not enough to dump him and he limped off... not cool.

Back to the other side of our clearing - still no water there although the wind in the trees gave me the opportunity to approach a dried pond unseen. 3 pukeko took to the air and I dropped them, reloaded and another jumped so I took him before spinning to take yet another that leapt behind me. 5 with 5 shots - not bad! Back through to another dried pond and another pukeko jumped - so close that I missed completely before taking him with the follow up. 6 with 7, job done. Under normal conditions they're impossible to stalk so the wind noise gave perfect cover to clean up some of the pests. Back to the hut to make some lunch and coffee for us - besides which I'd sweated badly on my walk and wind was now cutting through me, chilling me in the process. So a quick change of clothes also.

I arrived back to the pond and soon more ducks arrived. I closed out my limit on a pair of mallards that swung in and pulled up and out. Great stuff, a "late season" limit is pretty pleasing.

Limit. Boom.

Pop, waiting for birds

The wind by now was howling and three times my Splasher Flasher was tipped over and even the sheltered portion of the pond was rippling. Teal flew in mobs, buzzing us and swooping over the ponds - what a great little game bird they'd make.

Teal

We continued to hunt, with dad taking birds here and there. I enjoy spending a full day in the maimai, and pop was enjoying himself too but I could see he was getting pretty tired, with his concentration waning a few times while taking shots. We made the call to up sticks at 5.30 as I had to get back to the smoke and he wanted to have time to clean up. Soon the sun was setting and despite the conditions, nothing was flying. From up the river came regular shooting but we figured it was just some bored morons shooting god knows what. (It was). God knows why people would do that on one of the prime hunting days of the year.

Sun set over the swamp

Taking in the decoys was easy enough, and we made good time cleaning up the hut, packing the boat and heading off. Rick and Coch would be arriving to hunt in the morning on the tail of the weather surge.

An amazing day in the swamp, a bit of a Bollocks hunt in name only and a great day with pop.