Mitch, Brutus, Ruby and the tail of the week

Per the previous couple of years, Mitch who also takes a week's annual leave at the start of the season was able to join dad and I at the ponds. We arrived at 1pm on Wednesday, to be greeted by another beautiful still clam and un-ducky feeling day. We pottered around setting our gear up and getting the hut ready before heading out for an afternoon hunt. Things were really quiet so our bag of a single duck was about par for the course.

NZ Grey Duck (Pacific Black Duck)

We caught up on a whole bunch of things, and soon it was 6pm so with nothing doing we pulled the pin. Back at base we cooked up dinner then sat around chatting until hit the hay time. I slept like a baby and all too soon the alarm went and again the routine of tea/coffee/breakfast preps was underway.

We had a little breeze helping us this morning, and the ducks came in dribs and drabs. Definitely warier after almost a week of the season, but enough came within range to make a solid morning's hunting. Mitch and I went back to the hut to prepare a lunch of toasted sandwiches with cheese, bacon, tomato and avocado and brought a foil wrapped package back to dad who guarded the pond while we were gone. We knocked down a couple of birds in the afternoon, and then went for a walk to see how high (in this case low, bone-dry) the water through the swamp was and returned with a duck that Brutus found out in a neighbouring pond area. Returning to our pond we sat and waited in vain for an evening flight; with a waxing moon the ducks just didn't need to fly early so we called it a day with 12 birds in the hutch.

That night Coch and his dad were arriving, so while dad and Mitch prepared the evening meal I upped and moved our decoys to our farthest and most picturesque pond, the Willow Pond. In the dark sky lightning flashed in the distance - here was a chance of duck producing weather if it stayed around... I got back and joined the lads dinner and as we finished cleaning up the rain came, arriving exactly the same time as Coch and his dad. We kicked back, and chewed the fat and before I knew it, it was another late one.

After a breakfast involving (yet more) bacon, bread, coffee and tea we moved off to our pozzies.

There was simply no flight to speak of; despite shots around the area now and again nothing flew. Our bag consisted of a single Grey Duck that flopped in to the pond.

Bru and Zulu

Bru and Ruby

I had a bit of fun taking snaps before we began pulling the dekes. Always a pleasure hunting with Mitch, its good to kick back and take in a bit of peace and quiet with him and his dogs.

Back home, to swap out my duck gear for my pheasant kit, and hit the road once again.....