The focus

A year in the planning and accumulation of gear finally came to a head - Christmas Island 2015 was now a reality!

It had begun when TT and I had been discussing a trip to a new place for us, to chase species new to us. A few calls and emails and we had a crew:

TT
Me
Jase [Coch]
Seig from Cali
Zak, Seig's boy
Bruce from Cali and
Teresa, Bruce's wife.

I came to appreciate our US friends immensely, down to earth, hard working self made people and my god was Teresa the most competitive women I'd ever met! 3 weeks prior to the trip she'd never cast a fly, by the end she'd landed some massive fish in prolific numbers.

CXI is suffering a terrible run of Westerly weather, which is unusual in that it brings rain, lots and lots of it. This meant that straight off the bat the guides were telling us that it would be difficult to see fish and at first they were correct; but given that most of our party are avid trout spotters [sight fishing being the backbone of our summer trout angling] we managed far better than the Aussies we met from other lodges who had relatively low fish number days.

I kept a diary which I referred to. Because Jase and I were teamed, I was able to document our trip rather than the whole crew's.

Day 1 Guide: Pedro Location: "Y" Flat or something like that. We got off at CXI after 4.5 hour flight ex Nadi. Yes, its that close. Got settled in, changed, applied sunscreen, got hydrated, got going. We jumped in one of the old outrigger boats and headed across the lagoon. First impression "how about this heat?". [We'd come to miss that heat]. Weather was nice enough, but full of cloud in the sky - welcome to the tropics muinus the blue skies! Pedro got us going and soon Jase had his first bone, a small model but success! He then hit another that came in on the edge of vision and he cast to. Soon I hooked a neat trigger that ate my bonefish fly, the first of a number we'd cast to with mixed success. It bored off to the left, then bored off to the right, all completely unstoppable. Then found a neat hole that he buried himself in. Ehem. Soon after, Pedro helped me with spotting bones. We cast to a particular concentration and soon had my first bone. Then another and another, 6 fish in that little session.   Jase & Pedro   First bone [excuse the zinc, you cant apply enough]     I was soon focusing on a big bone when Jase came running, yelling for his #12 which the guide was carrying. He and Pedro took of'; Jase had spotted what the guide called a 30kg GT and got a cast in, the fish followed but turned away... we were pretty encouraged by day 1. Lessons learned: always carry your big rod, when you need it you need it fast. Take a fly patch, Ease of grabbing new flies is paramount and when wading it can be hard to access fly boxes and stuff [I had mine in a waterproof pack]. Keep applying sunscreen; my legs turned a funny shade of red...    Day II Guide: Tyrone Location: Huff Dam - Back Country [Milkfish farm area]   Getting to the fishing spot required a 90 minute ride on the truck. [We later found that we could access the same spots via a 30 min boat ride, and that the access which was supposed to be allowed only once a week via Fisheries land was a bit of a tall story. Dunno why they'd say stuff like that.   Anyhow the drive was an adventure in itself! Jase had first session with the guide and did well, taking a nice blue trev and lots of bones. I wandered off on my own and had the very devil of a time trying to locate fish under the broken clouded sky. Rain squalls smashed through. I found a patch of water that was rippled by more than just the wind and began to cast into it; 4 bones in 4 casts brightened the day somewhat. I hooked and lost a good blue trev [that looked black as he cruised the ledge] and caught a bunch of species like yellow perch, goatfish, bones and some ooglies. Later on I had Tyrone for the afternoon session and we went to a long peninsula that had a sand bar across to an island. I had my #12 on my back, my #8 in my hand and Tyrone carried my #10 [for medium trevs]. As we approached the bar I saw a massive bow wave and a behemoth GT came out of the depths. I said quietly to Tyrone "GT!!! F*CK, LOOK AT THAT MASSIVE BIG F*CK OFF GT!!!! HOLY MOSES ON THE F*CKN MOUNTAIN, LOOK AT THAT...." [you get the idea]. The people are very god fearing, but Tyrone understood my indiscretion and literally threw the 10 weight at me. I had a cast in front of that fish and he turned and followed the Fatboy before simply sinking into the depths. I was always going to be outgunned if I'd hit him... but still, there was no time to unleash the #12. I did catch a small GT of about 2.5kg on the #8 that ran me around like stink. Jase caught a neat golden trev [Andrew in our party caught a honker of about 5kg also]. Little did I know that that would be my largest GT....    Travelling to Huff Dam   A Booby bird     Beautiful flats... changeable weather     Goat fish ["GT Candy" according to guides]     "G'day Ray! [and Ray]     Lessons learned: ALWAYS HAVE YOUR BIG GUN LOADED AND AT HAND! use down time wisely, Jase and I would tie up new leaders each night and pack them in ziplock bags. This saved a heap of time on the flats over the rest of the stay. Don't drink Fijian over proof rum. Take spare rods; Seig had his #9 broken by a well meaning guide. He had another on hand. That would be the first of several rods busted, Bruce later broke his #12 high sticking a GT...   Day III Guide: Tyrone Location: All over   We asked to be taken out to see if we could raise tuna, or sailfish, or even marlin. We packed a set of boonie bird teasers and deployed them. The guides [we had 2 onboard with 3 anglers] were not exactly enthused by blue water fishing and it showed. After a coupel hours of no action we asked to be taken in close to see if we could raise a GT on the popping rod the guides had brought. They really couldn't be bothered with that lark and in frustration I called it. Not before I cast an algae fly to some schools of large milkfish... and caught a snapper of some sort. The ride back was a bit quiet all round. However when we got back into the lagoon I was soon happy again - I spotted my first [of many] tailing bones! The guide was off seeing to some business in the bushes and I was surrounded by tailing bones! Holy no way!!!! I had an epic session, despite the weather turning diabolically cloudy and windy. I caught my largest bone to date, and in front of an audience stalked, hooked and landed a neat trigger on the #8.   Watching the teasers [note the rain jacket]   Ready for the tease n switch..   Tyrone with my trigger on #8... note utter lack of cover or holes for him to run to, the only reason I bettered him after many long searing runs...     Lessons learned. Spotting bones in inclement weather means finding really skinny water. Anything over shin deep is an exercise in futility. Rain jacket very handy. When you have your big gun loaded and ready, you won't see a GT... also, tie lots of flies with bead chain eyes for the skinny water. The advice given to us mainly by Aussies was to tie lots with brass eyes in the #2 - #4 range. Without exception the guides selected #6's and #8's. Tie sparse. My flies were often given haircuts by the guides. Soon I was doing the same when taking flies from the box.   Day IV Guide: Tyrone Location: Orvis Flat   My diary starts as follows "Today was a b*stard..." We woke to rain and it stayed rainy. The streets were flooded, the wind blew its arse off and an intense storm arrived.  We fished the same flats as day 1, but by now I was switched on to seeing what I was looking at. I fished ankle deep water and took 32 bones, plus had many refusals and stuffed up a number of shots. The number of bones was staggering. I also caught a nice blue trev but stuffed up the focus on my camera, so only blurry shots. Again we fished in rain jackets and today we pulled the pin as a wall of blackness approached the township of London in the distance. We made haste to get going but got caught in an intense monsoon like rain storm. There was no visibility. The guides huddled in the bow like drowned rats. Attan, our boatman had a light jacket and couldn't take off his sunnies as they were his windscreen. We knew we were lost out there as we trundled around for 40 minutes with the guys chattering away, then out of the gloom a landmark was spotted and we did an about turn.  We arrived back to a camp full of similar stories except most of the team had been home or almost home before it arrived. Mid 20 degree weather is cool for a person from Kiribati. The guides were not quite hypothermic from the rain, but certainly didn't like the temp at all. We became accustomed to what are normal NZ summer temps.   Lessons learned: Take a weather proof camera. I didn't pull the SLR out often on this day due to the rain.    Day V Guide: Tyrone Location: all over   The team were offered the chance to go to the Korean Wreck, a legendary coastal location only truly fishable on the neap tides that we had timed our trip for. Jase and I decided to not go, and to continue our GT quest in the lagoon. We got unloaded from the boat and I gave Tyrone my bonefish rod and walked the edge of a deep drop off with the #12, pumping out cast after cast with a foam popper to see if I could raise a GT. I must have made a couple hundred casts over the next few hours, and didn't raise anything except a sweat. Then we changed focus and I spent a neat day walking the flats. I took 25 bones that day and lost 2 very big fish, one to coral and another that broke my tippet on the strike. We arrived back at base to mixed reports from the team; the swell had been pounding in and made life difficult for them. Seig had managed 2 GTs in the 5kg range but the rest had mainly tails of woe, of difficult line management as waves pounded in. Seig began to feel ill, and would spend the next 48 hours losing his lunch at both ends. We were pretty sure it was due to lack of hydration. The guys were all stuffed, that pounding surf had knocked them around a bit. In every respect Í felt I'd had a brilliant catching day.   rain, anyone?     Tough vis     Neat little bone   Lessons learned: You cannot drink enough water while on the equator. I took electrolytes and a sports drink bottle and drank that plus another litre to 2 litres per day. Check your leader, often. I lost a big bone to a frayed leader - only checked after the fact. Learn to manage your line. You need to carry it coiled and ready to shoot, and away from the coral. Every surface is ugly on line coating.   Day VI Guide: David Location: Orvis and Smokey Flats   Tyrone had a day off to attend a village council meeting. David had a different style. The spotting was again, difficult but he put me in front of 3 big triggers, and several GT's. I got hooks in 2 of the triggers [and got absolutely murdered] and none of the GT's. The morning was still and I had an excited feeling in my gut that today was the day. GT's busted up in several spots and then suddenly a big bow wave was coming our way - I had a cast out in front of it and retrieved a big brush fly... no dice. I saw bones before David did and began to catch them; possibly his time off [he hadn't guided for a week] had curtailed his fish vision. I don't know. The afternoon session on Smokey flat was difficult. I was pleased under the circumstances to take a number of fish, whilst Jase and David had a real tough one. Jase later admitted that this was his toughest session of the trip. I simply had a vis window that allowed me to see multiple bones slide off a coral patch onto a sandy patch within range. The other guys were more on the dark coral itself.   Huge storms passed by in the distance. We were lucky to not get a soaking. That evening, we had a special gift giving session for the guide's kids and other village children. It was hugely appreciated, and I believe, set us apart from the usual 'sports'. In fact in a number of ways our self sufficiency was appreciated by the guides as they got both downtime, and the occasional sneaky cast in. David when given the chance took less than 30 seconds to snare a bone from the time I handed him my rod and said you have a go'.... brilliant.   Awesome stillness       Little bubba GT   Conditions to be savoured and treasured - what its 'supposed to be like'     Spot the bone   Best weather day of our trip     But lurking on the horizon...       It appears that when the guides aren't fishing, they are doing something else that starts with F... :)       Our American buddies, Zak and Teresa giving gifts   The kids singing their 'Happy Song' to say thanks     Lessons learned: Talk to your guides. Ask lots of questions. We fished where we did today because David knew that a rising morning tide on this flat was a signal for GTs to come and play. Koha is a language not understood by many. The yanks not in our group were stunned that we'd think to do bring gifts for total strangers. The yanks in our group who we'd asked to contribute went wayyy over the top and it really made their trip. A visit to the $2 Shop can make a poor kids year - Teresa brought a whole suitcase stuffed with little treasures - she earned that big GT from positive karma. If I could have taken less crap that I never used and stuffed more gifts in to my luggage, I'd have been richer for it. So ended week 1.

The final week

Opening seems like yesterday... and once again our A/W season has come to an end. I needed to visit our ponds one last time and so made my way in holiday traffic down. The trip takes 90 minutes normally but was well over 2 hours this time. I met Andy who had his boat on the back of his truck... Andy had run into a real cock who decided to park his truck in the turnaround area at the boat ramp. Guys who do this normally come back to find their car well mudded, but this guy had parked beside his son Mr Cock Jr [also parked stupidly] and in the process had ground his wagon down the side of his boy's... so maybe there is some divine justice.  

We arrived at the hut where dad and Larry were ensconced and sat down in front of a nice warm fire, and it was good to be home again. 

We awoke at 5.15 and Andy and I sorted coffee and breakfast, then we got out to the ponds. I had only the morning to hunt, before needing to head home. With enough hunters around to keep the birds moving, Andy and I had a good little shoot. It wasn't perfect by any means; I had a misfire with a spoonie drake in the sights - he was flying with 2 hens, one of which Andy knocked down, and we missed a few but I was happy with my bag of 5 mallards, especially as the final bird, a big beautiful drake who decided to do a slow fly-by, carried a band. *Bling*.

Camera got fogged, made the shots more interesting






A fogged camera can't explain this though... 



*Bling*




The drive home was uneventful, except that the next morning's goose hunt had been called off due to lack of birds in attendance. That gave me the opportunity of a sleep-in, before  heading up to Northland for a duck hunt. We gathered at the pond 2pm and set the decoys. The first bird visited before we were ready and soon we were on the board. The gaps between birds were filled with excellent jokes [mine], funny stories [also mine] and soon I was threatened with eviction. We also ate a quarter full ice-cream tub of goose jerky... yummmmmm







The wind was making it difficult for the birds to take their normal approach and so many flared out before committing; even so the shooting was pretty good from the lads. We called it when it got dark and then released the hounds for the pick-up before retiring to a barbecue of duck sausages,  and a few coldies.



So with that, another duck season has swiftly passed in our region. we still have another month in Northland, so hopefully a fee more hunts can be undertaken before June ends.

Pheasants in the rain

Prior to the season, Craig reached out to our crew to let us know that he'd be away from the farm for the second weekend of the duck season, which is the traditional opening of our pheasant hunting season. Rather, we'd begin on the Friday preceding the third weekend; for me that meant missing the first day as my leave is taken between now and next year! Hendrik, Brad, Mick, Mitch and Craig, with Craig's guest Florian would all be in the field. Andy, Jethro and I would be the late comers.

Upon arrival at Craig's, a glance in the killing shed revealed a deer, 3 pigs and a string of pheasants on the wall; Day 1 looked to have been a hell of a success! I'd arrived last and after getting the gear inside sat down to a drink and catch-up with the boys. Florian and Craig had returned from a successful Thar hunt in the Southern Alps with some nice heads. Mitch regaled us with tales of his duck opening with 'Crazy Lance' that had us in stitches. We talked smack until 11 pm and I was at that stage fit to drop... so the lads all trooped off and I fell asleep in front of the fire, stretched out on the floor with cushions for a mattress.

Jethro was first up and put the kettle on, outside the forecast rain had arrived. Clouds hugged the hills and mist rolled down the valleys and the drain drizzled in and on. I enjoy hunting pheasants in the rain; they tend to either be in the open or tucked up somewhere very dry; there's no in-between. We ate, got wet weather gear on and set off. With 9 guns we'd need a bit of organisation; I'd go with Mick and Andy and dogs Heidi and Keira and hunt the true right edge of the river. Mitch, Brad and Jethro would push the other side. our party waited for our opposite bank companions to walk to the bridge and come back down to meet us and then we moved slowly ahead with the dogs pushing the cover. The first birds broke well ahead of us but as we approached their hang-out, another broke. He was up and away from us all but I had the safe line to shoot and promptly missed! Florian plucked some feathers with his shot but the bird sailed away. The guys spent some time searching for the bird and as they did so Keira nudged another bird for Andy which he hit as it crossed the river before landing in a paddock on the far side and running. Keira crossed the river and seemed to hit the scent but quickly lost it.

Andy walked back around to the bridge and looped around while the rest of the party continued downstream. The next bird flew my way and was an easy shot - first pheasant of the season! The next bird that was pushed Mitch called as my bird and I got him with a long crosser [which I only realised later; Mitch had fired also but had missed]. The birds were holding well and we were only seeing cock birds; had they pushed the hens out? Next up came my big 'DOH!' moment. A bird ran well ahead of us and took to the paddock from the bank. He ran and looked to fly so I stepped back; he then ran ahead to my right so I turned hard right and walked and he stopped... then turned and ran to the only cover which was a stunted tree in the paddock. Clumps of longer grass afforded him some cover and he ducked in. I chuckled at my sheep dog act and walked quietly over to within 5m before kicking an irrigation pod to get him into the air. BOOM! BOOM! ... not a feather flew from the bird... an easy going away at an angle shot.... I did a little frustration boogie, then had a giggle. Andy returned and I hung back as I'd had enough shots.

Wet

Hendrik, a man with style

We arrived at a kale paddock, the scene of the majority of the previous day's carnage apparently; and we spread out and began to push through the soggy cover. Keira pushed a bird up between Andy and I put him down slightly before Andy's shot. Another bird was taken further down the paddock. We moved slowly to cover the last 5m of cover and a bird got up which Andy took smoothly.

That proved to be a nice melanistic cock bird. The crop extended onto a peninsula, although at that point it seemed to have been ravaged by cattle or simply not taken so was patchy. The group moved through and Keira hit a scent, moved across the line and bumped 2 cocks which took to the air and dropped as the guys on the right flank took them down.

That signaled the end of the morning's hunt... the rain still fell so we looked like bedraggled rats as we wandered back to the vehicles. Lunch was well received, cheeses, rolls, salami, coffee.. then we were out to the shed to clean our kills. 3 pigs and 35 odd pheasants were dealt to in quick time and the meat put on ice.

Then a good solid energy-returning lunch and a change of clothes. Hendrik, Mick & Mitch had to leave at that point so it was a smaller party that set out in the afternoon. We'd cover ground untouched over the past day and a half. As we parked near our chosen spot, a bunch of birds popped up out of a bowl, and while we waited they made their way to cover, a heavy gorse patch. While Andy and Craig waited, Jethro, Florian and I moved into a gully to cover their escape and soon the guys with dogs [Craig was working his new bitch Sika] pushed through. Birds popped out one by one, all hens barring one cock bird which took a hit as he passed down the line. We regathered and split up to cover the ground and soon shots began to pop. I covered a higher plateau but apparently a number of birds were bumped out by Sika, out of my view, as she ran a bit wild. We moved to the southern edge of the farm in a sweeping group but all we could find was hens. Finally Andy gave a signal that a cock bird was spotted in a deep depression. Florian and Jet covered the far end and Andy put Keira down the guts... I get a bit mesmirised watching her work and soon she pushed into a small fern patch and out came Mr. Rooster. He flew my way and I had to let him pass to ensure a safe shot, and I promptly missed him with the first shot before regathering and cleaning him up. My shooting was akin to muppetry, perhaps the fit of the little Merkel after the big waterfowl gun was throwing me. Darkness began to drop and we returned with 4 birds in the bag. We hung the birds and got into dry clothing. Jet made a move home at that point. Andy and I got a big meal of duck sausages, salad and mashed spuds on the go and Craig's brother Mike joined us for dinner. Then we had a call to make.... go out in the wet to find a pig up the hill, or stay in the nice dry warm house. On top of the rain a cold southerly had sprung up, but despite that we decided to take a spot light and go up the hill.

Issue #1: Andy's truck has town tires
Issue #2: The only rifle available was a lever action Browning

Issue number 1 exhibited itself less than a quarter of the way to our get put point, as Andy's truck slid into a small ditch [way better than sliding into the abyss on the other side of the track] and stuck fast. So we'd walk from there. There's something highly refreshing about being out in the rain on a stormy night and we made good time up the hill, soon I was steaming hot from my merino layer under Goretex wet weather gear. As we went, Craig lit up the valleys and bush patches with the spotlight and we saw numerous fallow hinds with fawns on our way. We'd only take scrubby stags if we found them. At the tip paddock we made out a grey grizzled pig by a big rock, so moved uphill to close the gap. Nearing the rock Craig switched on the light and Mr Pig came trotting straight towards us, fast. Andy brought the rifle up but was clearly having trouble with the unfamiliar configuration of the lever action, as the pig drew closer.. soon he was 5m out and Craig hissed 'shoot him NOW' and began to ready his backup plan - he'd brought along his shotgun and buckshot - when BOOM Andy touched off and the pig dropped on the spot.

He was a good fat bugger too, and Craig quickly field dressed him for the carry back. Lacking twine to make a pack of the animal, Andy was forced to carry him by the back legs - the true 'piggy back'. We trudged into the darkness, down hill thankfully, and soon were taking turns at carrying the animal. Finally we arrived at Andy's truck, so we stashed the pig in the back and continued our walk back to the house. Back home we had a beer or 2 and soon Craig began to nod off... I felt the same and hit the hay.

I awoke as the sky lightened and got breakfast on the go; Craig was up and about also but Andy stayed in his bed for a while longer. We ate and then Andy and I set off to retrieve his truck while Craig did some work. With a bit of digging and to-ing and fro-ing I pulled Andy's truck out easily enough, and we got back to base to ready for a morning hunt. The 3 of us set out to cover the farm area closest to the road. The first birds encountered were quail which Craig asked us not to shoot, as the population base is small. We walked for a number of kms during which a melanistic cock bird eluded us, Craig's gun's extractor slipped over the rim of a cartridge which took some fixing, and no other birds were seen. We walked areas that in the past had been kind to us, but perhaps the southerly wind had kept the bird holed up? We made the call to return home, but as we walked a steep muddy track I glanced ahead and 200m away saw 2 cock birds on a rise. At this stage they hadn't seen us, unsurprisingly as they went intent on fighting each other. Around and around they'd circle, heads close to the ground before rearing up and jumping together with claws outstretched and wings beating. It was quite some spectacle!

After a few minutes Craig suggested that we use their state of distraction to close in, hopefully unobserved, but of course with our high viz gear they spotted us quickly, broke off their engagement and one took to the air while the other ran. Andy and i split off to find the runner, while Craig took Max around to the other side of the gully to find the flier. Our mini hunt was interesting; we popped up where we thought the bird had run to but Keira was not interested, so after sweeping back and forth Andy took here back to the fight scene and started from there. He and Keira moved away from me and I slowly followed. The wee girl hit the scent and pushed out the cock from his hiding place, which Andy took with his second barrel. on the board!

We walked around to where Craig was sitting, his hunt for the flier had been unsuccessful. As we wandered down the track though, Max's head popped up and he darted off the track into the scrub. Out clattered the missing cock bird which flew straight down the track and departed stage right with having avoided 3 shots from the boys... being behind them I had the best seat in the house but wasn't doing any ribbing after my misses the day before. Suddenly birds began to take to the air down in the bush - we;d found them, but all eluded us. We saw where a couple had landed so sauntered the several hundred metres over to an old swamp below a heavily wooded rock outcrop. Max bumped a cock bird in front of me which I managed to fold while another burst away far to our left. We retrieved the bird and began our wander back to the cars.

Always a good weekend at the ranch, and this was another ripper.

Mud, stubble and lots of trouble [for the ducks!]

This time of year seems to fly by in a haze induced by lack of sleep, road trips, varied hunting and plenty of ammo usage. Add in work and its no wonder that it’s hard to remember exactly what happened where…. Rolling into the second week of the game bird season, I had a pretty clean slate. I’d planned a visit to the ponds initially but when Tony called with a plan… and not just any plan, but a great one, well things just changed on the spot.

It went like this.

Our mate Richard had discovered a maize crop that due to unfortunate circumstances had been harvested both late [when the crop was man near flattened by weather] and with ancient equipment. Whole heads of maize were everywhere. Ducks were attacking in droves. It sounded just a wee bit too good to be true… but then came the kicker. Following the maize hunt we’d head off up north, grab Tony’s boat and head to his and Chewy’s maimai on the Kaipara Harbour, spend the evening in there and have a good tide for the Sunday morning hunt.

Now that, in my books, sounded like a ripper of a plan with the added bonus that I could spend Saturday morning at home with the family.

Saturday rolled around and after a leisurely morning I began to put my gear together for the hunt. 30 field decoys. A wing spinner. Layout blind. Lead ammo [there’s a novelty, we’d be hunting well away from water and I had half a case of lead #4 to get through].  Into the truck and off to the meeting point. Richard arrived first and we had a catch up in the sun. It was warm and a very late season cicada chirped away. A SW wind was forecast and we hoped that it would arrive; with 5 shooters in layout blinds we needed to be able to get the birds to set properly. Matt, Chewy and tony rolled in and we got on our way. The drive out along the peninsula is always pleasant and soon we were passing through beautiful territory. I saw a couple of cock pheasants along the way, shining in the afternoon sun. We arrived at our entry point, got the quad off the trailer, gear onto trailer and then we all clambered aboard. We met 3 hunters who were leaving the property; their bag was a single magpie. The paddock we were to hunt in was indeed a harvesting disaster – whole ears of maize lay everywhere. Feathers and footprints. Paradise ducks lifted off and wheeled around. The wind was now blowing nicely and we walked the paddock surveying our options. We settled on hunting from the side of a small rise overlooking a depression, which would allow us to set 5 blinds bringing guns to bear on birds drifting left to right. 

A wing spinner finished the spread and we settled back. We didn’t have to wait long for the first parries to arrive and each took a couple. About 4pm the first ducks appeared. They were flying up the valley behind us but keeping their distance as they eyed the spread. That was the signal to stop shooting parries. We hadn’t gone overboard with our camo efforts, but had jammed as many stalks and stubble leaves in to the loops on our blinds as we could reasonably manage.  But the sun was our real enemy, as it dropped behind us our blinds threw long [albeit narrow] shadows. The first real duck in was a grey that took us all by surprised, swooped in over the ridge to our left and came straight in. Tony or Matt took the bird and we sat back in anticipation. More and more birds were in the air but staying out of range. Flocks of grey ducks interspersed with the occasional mallard buzzed around. I am unused to seeing greys in such numbers; in the swamp I haunt they usually fly in singles or pairs. Finally the sun dipped below the peak behind us and the duck switch was thrown. Ducks came in in pairs, singles and small groups and not much got away. I’d only brought a single packet of lead shells and was soon through that and the other guys were getting through their ammo supplies fast as well. Ducks cupped up and swung in on the breeze and as the sky darkened the shooting became more and more exciting.

Between 5.30 and 6.15 the most insane hunting was had and by the time the flight began to button off we had 5 duck limits on the ground, along with 10 parries. The dogs got to work rounding up the birds and we deconstructed the decoy spread, took down the blinds and got things stacked onto the trailer. That hunt was memorable for the perfect conditions allowing us all to get stuck in, and as usual the great company.

We said goodbye to Richard and then convoyed north to pick up the guys’ trucks. At Warkworth we said goodbye to Matt; Tony, Chewy and I were headed to Wellsford to collect the boat and headed out onto the Kaipara Harbour for the second part of our weekend.

At Tony’s we loaded our gear onto the boat, jumped into Chewy’s truck and set off along the backroads, arriving at the landing. Boat launched, we set off by the light of headlamps and within 10 minutes arrived at the lads’ island. Their maimai was set on poles with a shooting platform atop the living area which consisted of 4 bunks, a kitchenette and a deck surrounding 2 sides of the structure. Chewy cranked up the cooktop and got duck sausages on the go, while Tony and I drove around setting decoys in the darkness. A quick meal of sausages on bread, and a few coldies on the shooting deck and I for one was ready to hit the hay.

The alarm went at 6 and we got a brew on, climbed into cool weather gear and got set up for our morning’s shoot. It was clam and still and less than ideal for harbour shooting. Behind us, parries moved around over the farmland but not many ducks were getting going. Then a small breeze sprang up and soon strengthened. Behind us, 2 ducks zoomed in over the mangroves and I called to the boys – they set and came in on Tony’s side and we laid into them – 2 down!

The next birds to arrive were a small group and a pair, after some coaxing they set and came in but pulled up 30m out. We each ditched a bird but the survivors got out faster than our follow up shots. More birds turned up now again but the major flurry was when Chewy went to retrieve the boat which was tied up in a creek several hundred metres away and covered by shade cloth. While he was away, 2 mobs appeared and Tony and I put several birds on the deck including one which flew 200m before dropping stone dead. Nera, Tony’s black lab, retrieved the close birds before Chewy arrived and collected the long bird. He then took off to drive up some nearby creeks to see if he could push any birds out – he did, but nothing came to Tony and I.

On Chewy’s return we had a cuppa, then all piled into the boat to retrieve the decoys. Like a well-oiled machine we grabbed dekes and then would the 5m cords in…. this made pond shooting look easy. We still had the tide on our side so were able to make a couple of trips back to the ramp to unload our gear and decoys. Back at Tony’s, we ate a barbecued breakfast before Matt arrived with the previous day’s bag and we made short work of breasting out our birds.

That concluded a couple of great – and unexpected – hunts. With only 2 weeks of our season to go, it all seems to have gone by so fast….

A week in pictures

The opening week of our game bird hunting season has come and gone. Despite my camera playing up, between myself and friends we got some great photos which hopefully depict the week nicely. We had some great hunts, and the birds have been in great condition.

Let the good times roll!

Some photos courtesy Tony Dobbs and Darryl Snowdon.