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Archive for the ‘Thoughts on hunting’ Category


There is nothing better than spending a few hours along the river on an early Sunday morning for a waterfowl hunt. Especially after an incredibly stressful work week. I was a bit disappointed though because I was not going to be able to bring my kayak along with me. My truck was getting repaired. I knew this would limit my ability to get closer to the ducks, and I would be forced to stay on the muddy banks.

This means jumping over medium size distributaries and sometimes crossing wider parts of the river that is chest high and in icy cold waters. In situations like these, I usually find a large fallen tree several meters long that was left over by the beavers. I push it across at the narrowest part of the river, then I use the log as support in the deeper parts of the water. Once I am done I then move the logs out-of-the-way in case some boats come through after me. On occasions I can find recently built beaver dams and cross over them like a land bridge. I also sometimes use a walking stick for balance and to check the depth of the water before stepping in. Experience and good judgement have allowed me to continue to blog about it, even after having spent several minutes in icy cold water.

I am always very excited about getting a few hours to myself in nature, especially this time a year. The river and marshes this time of year are just spectacular along with the light snow fall. Also it gets so cold that fewer people come out later in the season. This makes it safer since there are less hunters and it also provides more available hunting spots to set up. You can also still hunt and attempt to flush the ducks for a couple of kilometres without ever meeting anyone.

I am always so appreciative to be able spend time outdoors and release the stress from our daily lives, but with hunting comes reality and this means that you will not always be guaranteed a harvest. The Canada geese have been hunted in this area of mine for several years now and as a result as soon as they clear the tree line along the river’s edge they increase their altitude and makes it a no go for shots.

As the Canada geese numbers decrease this time a year with only five weeks left to the season, I focus my attention on mallards, black ducks and teal. But these birds like to land in very isolated parts of the marsh where it is still open and not yet frozen over and these spots are quite often only accessible by water. So, after having spent the good part of an hour stalking the shores of the river, I turned toward the marsh and circled around its perimeter forming the shape of a ring. This is in knee-deep water and also sometimes using little mud islands that look like thousands of crane nests as land steps around the deeper parts.

I had taken a few shots at some ducks and missed, I soon realized after a few hours that this hunt was a total bust as far has getting a harvest, yet this was my reality for this Sunday. This can be extremely discouraging for any waterfowl hunter as well as exhausting. I knew that I was blessed having spent some amazing time outdoors and being able to shed the stress from the week, but rather disappointed about not harvesting.

What I found can be challenging to accept is the fact that on days like these, even after having spent time outdoors, you were still not able to harvest. Also even though you will have other times to go out, it is just simply discouraging. I find myself fighting against the negative energies of disappointment about not having harvested. Because ultimately every waterfowl hunter wants to bring home some birds. This I find can be especially hard on new members to the sport, because you want to harvest and not necessarily put your current abilities in question.

I will be going out again next weekend and this time I will be bringing my kayak. I am hopeful that I will be able to remedy this harvesting situation, in addition to continue my never-ending pursuit of being able to find the true balance between time at the marsh and having a successful harvest. Family and friends will consider you very lucky about having spent time alone in the great outdoors. But unless they share your passion for the sport they will not always be understanding to the fact that you are disappointed in your performance and that it may take a few hours to digest this fact. Then you ask yourself the question, is getting a harvest the definition of a successful hunt? Or are you simply a very lucky person to have had some time to yourself?

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wetlandsNature is ruthless in all of its beauty. There exists a place on earth for everyone where you are free of judgement and the negative energies of the world. For that moment you are king, nature is powerful and a healer. Out there you can scream a loud and not a soul will hear you or call back. Once you have conquered your fears and solitude only then have you truly understood the spirit of a woodsman. CSGH 2016.

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Two days ago I was reading an online article published by a hunting site, the honest author wrote about waterfowl hunting and how sometimes you can leave the hunting site full of frustration directed at your missed shots and the desire to improve for the next time. Particularly when trying to harvest Canada geese in flight or readying themselves for a landing.

I find it extremely interesting how some authors always need to write and emphasize the number of years of experience they have and choose their best hunting examples to try to educate you on the types of shot sizes you should use and of course write about the importance of patterning. Like many have written before, each gun fires differently or does it?

The other evening while on the water, I felt something very different from the many other waterfowl hunts I have experienced. There was a greater sense of know how and I felt a higher level of calm and as a result if I missed a duck or goose, it did not matter because I knew that I would get the next as I have done before.

Authors and experts write about the best practices when it comes to our sports fundamentals and yes these are important but they remain theories until applied. Once you are on the ground this is when the actual event happens, real life happens. Birds turn and do not land or behave differently and then it is all about you and your personal skill and your gun.

What I felt out there in the wetlands wasn’t that I was becoming a better hunter a so-called expert like those authors, but rather I was living the reality of being out there with geese and ducks and nature at its best. I understood that sometimes there will be missed and sometime successful harvests but that over time I have captured a better sense of understanding about our sport and as a result have gained maturity and field experience that of a veteran waterfowl hunter. Learning and improving based on the fundamentals but also living every experience and correcting the mistakes.

I have missed a lot of birds but I am also the same waterfowl sportsman that took down three adult Canada geese in a single shot last season. It is important to learn the fundamentals, for example choosing the right shot for the right time of the season when the geese are a little heavier. Applying the right amount of lead depending on the bird’s flight, but then there is the bit that not too many people wish to share and that is the knowledge you acquire on your own while on the water, true field experience that is quite often kept as secrets of the sport.

When you go to an outfitter, they help you harvest birds, they may talk about the winds or something but they do not necessarily share the true skills. Sure you go home with some geese or ducks but did you truly harvest the experience and digest the time that took place did you grasp the know how for the next time.

On your next hunt if you are still skybusting, stop shooting and take a few minutes to focus and see what you can change to improve your chances.

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A few nights ago on a dark and raining evening I sat down and began to browse the Internet, I was looking up vintage hunting paintings and sketches as well as black and white photos. Some were trophy photos and others told stories. Stories of time long ago, a way of life, experiences that I have shared and lived in my own way.

There was one sketch in particular that struck me more than the others, it was titled “Chasing a Cripple” it is a black and white drawing by W.L Wells. I found that this image like many others captures the true essence of a duck hunter attempting to retrieve his crippled game.

I stood there looking at every detail in the drawing and I found myself re-living a moment from last years season, when I was retrieving my crippled teal duck and then I began to type what I felt deep at the core.

“The darkness and the cold envelops you like a blanket, the wind howls and makes sounds like that of wicked spirits calling out. Tis the season of toxic mud gases and weeds that weigh a ton, and wrap themselves around your paddle like mad fingers who wish to pull you down into the depths of the black waters. A few more powerful strokes and the harvest might be yours or not, it is unyielding and painful yet so rewarding. It is healing, it is medicine for the soul.”

The season starts in two days and I can not wait.

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Environment Canada is doing a great job with its migratory bird program and for me purchasing my migratory bird permit has become a very important tradition in September.

One can purchase it online but I still love the feeling of walking into the post office downtown.

Opening those large metal doors and walking in amongst the attractive people in suits and dresses, my walk is poised and confident, a proud outdoorsman. The interior of the building is simply majestic with its high ceilings and beautiful framed historical stamps fill the walls. 

I stand in line and wait for my turn, some are sending money, others letters and me purchasing my migratory bird permit.

It is not just about paying and getting a piece of paper with a stamp, it is a privilege. After filling out the forms and paying, I walk out and hit the sidewalk with pride. I am excited about the season ahead about sharing it with great friends and family.

My harvests could be in lush fields or the dark waters of the river, either way it is a powerful experience that those before me have lived, cherished and shared for centuries. It is a sacred activity that goes beyond first impressions and judgement; it is exclusive and very personal.

In the confines of your family you become a legend with life experiences and stories that are worthy of campfires and passed through the generations.

Last weekend I went through my backpack, my Remington and got everything sorted and cleaned, I am hoping to have an incredible season.

We have good friends coming for a visit soon and I wish to offer them some great tasting sausages and Rillettes.

So in closing, I hope that your permit purchase this year is as special as mine and I wish you all a safe season and wonderful harvests. 

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It has been a few weeks since I have blogged about our beloved sport; but the subject was never far from my thoughts or soul. For fourteen days, I walked two hundred and fifty kilometres on part of the Saint James’s trail (Saint-Jacques-de-Compostelle) France; more accurately a pilgrimage on the Rocamadour variant.

God knows, no pun intended that I had lots of time to think and reflect about everything, including my upcoming seasons and blog articles. While on the “Chemin,” I was constantly reminded of the beauty of nature and its magnificent wildlife. The hares in France were so large in size that their ears resembled that of a coyote and the palombe (wood pigeons) also impressed me with their size, flight and ability to blend into their environment.

When walking in the open fields alone with no one in sight for miles, I openly called out to the French crows and hawks to see if I would get a response. The crow calls were very different and not as pronounced as their north American cousins. They also did not call in three’s. Furthermore, they did not seem interested in having a conversation with me, unlike they do here.

As for the hawks, they usually called back but it took two or three tries before I got a response. While on the Saint James trail, it was not unusual to spend several hours walking through French forests and even though they also had maple and oak trees just like us, the forests in the region where I walked seemed very damp and dense and very eery at times.

The forest density changed just like our forests from very open pine forests to extremely thick mixed woods. Some trees grew in small groupings of three to five trees with every grouping spaced out. I walked through many private hunting territories in close proximity to agricultural areas, and only saw two deer and was particularly amazed by their rather small body size.

One night while sitting in a French restaurant, I met a fellow boar hunter and eventhough we lived in two different countries seperated by a great sea, we shared the same passion, the same knowledge and as a result we bonded like two brothers. 

It was an incredible experience and I will return for sure, but now my focus is to enjoy the rest of the summer and get ready for the fall. And as for my walk through the amazing French countryside and its forests or as John Muir put it: The clearest way into the universe is through a forest wilderness.

My fourteen day walk through the French countryside and wilderness shall be part of me for a lifetime.

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Last Sunday I was out on a duck hunt at one the familiar bay’s where I have been hunting for the last five years. I usually park my truck on the side of the muddy road which leads to a canal I then drag my kayak to the waters edge and paddle into the bay.

Once I get paddling through the water and amongst the tall grass it is simply one of the most incredible feelings in the world, sneaking up to the ducks or geese. If I get the right amount of paddle strokes in, I can slide along the waters surface with my shotgun in my shoulder ready to release a shot into a duck that has just been flushed feet in front of me.

But over the past two years, I have noticed a very severe decrease in the water levels in both bays and it is quite worrisome. Here I was in the middle of bay and I was stuck on a mud flat right near a cranes nest, actually there are hundreds of them along with two beaver lodges.

The weeds created a massive web of vegetation which was hidden just inches below the surface and made it impossible to move forward with a simple paddle stroke. I now had to push off with my paddle forced into the mud. Moving only inches at a time, I was either brave or just plain mad, I had to climb out of the kayak and walk on water, and may I remind you that I am in the middle of a bay.

And if you have ever experienced it, it is one of the most physically demanding exercises out there. It took me almost an hour to get out of the mess, and as you can imagine my noise flushed every single duck.

I love seeing the rain because it means a few more millimeters and when the river is higher it can spill over the banks where there is an opening and feed the bay but beside that the larger openings are blocked on the western side of the bay by a beaver dam.

At this rate, in the next couple of years, I will no longer need a kayak and the ducks will move out unless something is done.

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