What’s a little Wind and Ice When It Comes to Duck Hunting
The Driver’s side wiper blade broke off the swing arm. The ice had it frozen to the windshield. The arm harmlessly swung over the windshield. As I try to make the repair, the cold wind hurt my hands. The single digit cold pushed by the 30 knot winds bit my face. It was a hurt you cold morning.
Sunrise was more than two hours distant. Back home in Carroll County they had received 6 inches of new snow overnight. Here in Virginia, we had maybe two inches of snow covered with a thin sheet of ice. I would much rather have the deeper snows to play in than ice to contend with. I snapped the windshield wiper back into place and warmed my frozen fingers in my arm pits waiting for the heater to warm the inside of the truck.
I locked the front hubs of the truck, but never slid the lever into 4X4, until I reached the ice covered gravel parking lot and steep hill leading down to the boat ramp. The ramp was covered in ice. I dared not back the truck onto the ramp. I would have to carry the canoe over the ice before sliding it into the icy Potomac River. I slid on my hip boots and wool coat.
The wind blew the river into a frenzy. Two foot plus waves rolled up the boat ramp. The northwest wind blew over 30 knots, so the weather man said. He also said it was cold out, but I already knew that. The numbness in my fingers told me so.
The ropes holding the canoe to the truck had frozen overnight. Using my Zippo lighter I warmed the ropes. Taking too long, I poured a little lighter fluid on the rope and ignited the rope. I let it burn just long enough to melt the ice and not damage the rope.
With my favorite decoys placed in the bow, I waded into the water dragging the canoe until it freely floated. Carefully, but quickly, I stepped into the boat before the winds slammed it back onto shore. Fighting the winds, I paddled into the swells. Once again, I praise the handling of my Charles River Old Town canoe. This is not the first time she has seen rough waters such as these. Quickly a paper thin layer of ice coats the inside bottom of the boat from the water my boots brought into the boat and the water dripping from my paddle. The paddle also becomes coated with a thin layer of ice.
The paddle to my duck hunting spot is a short one, but against the wind. I will have the wind to my back when I set the decoys and hide in the debris of the river. A perfect set up. The ice in the canoe and the high winds tossing the canoe out of position turns setting the decoys to an impossible job. I fight the wind with wet cold hands on the paddle between unraveling the decoys cords and tossing them into the river. The spread is not pretty, but I get the 18 decoys floating in some sort of order.
Again the rope is frozen when I tie it to the stake. I position myself in the back of a cove off the main river with the wind coming over my back. The main force of the wind is broken by the trees behind me. I have to maintain a hold on the stake so the bow of the canoe does not swing around into the bank.
I load three shells into my Browning pump shot gun. On days like this I am thankful for keeping the old pump shotgun and not going with an autoloader. I’ve seen too many of those fail on crazy cold and wet days like this. By the time the sun lightens the day and legal shooting time arrives, frozen water droplets hang off the barrel and forearm. My hip boots had frozen stiff in my folded leg position. I switch off the first pair of gloves, wet from paddling and placing the decoys, for my fur lined leather gloves. The dry warmth feels like heaven on my hands.
My eyes scan the clear blue sky for ducks. I wished the cloud cover from the storm that passed overnight had stayed a little longer into the day. That was what I was counting on for this hunt, stormy weather. What I had was the post storm clear blue sky, cold temps and wind, lots of wind.
A single duck pitches into the decoys, I raise the shotgun and with one shot it floats belly up. I untie the canoe, grab the ice covered paddle and retrieve my first duck of the morning. While out, I also retrieve two decoys the wind tried to steal from me. They had floated more than a hundred yards from where I had tossed them.
An hour passes with only a few more ducks passing high over head. Too soon it is time to load up and head off to work. I reverse the process, collecting decoys and return to the boat ramp. With frozen fingers I wrap the decoy cords, place the decoys back into the slotted bags and use the frozen rope to tie the canoe back onto the truck.
The heater warms the truck. Before I enter the warm, I stand with wet gloves and ice covered hip boots on and gaze toward the white capped waves blowing across the river. This is my kind of morning; feeling the cold of the natural world; feeling the power of the winds; watching the sun rise on a new day over the water; holding hopes of making the right choices to be in the right place at the right time to collect a meal of duck breasts. Yep, I may get some funny looks while driving around in a snow storm with a canoe tied to the top of my truck, but mornings like this are what keeps one soul alive.
Stay in the house when the weather turns a little less than perfect and you could miss scenes like this.
Sorry for no photos of the hunt itself but after the mishap of destroying a camera on a kayak fishing trip this past summer, I thought it wise not to get the camera out while in an ice covered canoe getting blown around in 30 knot winds.
