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Posts Tagged ‘calls’


Upon my return from work today, I completed a little walk around the house checking up on my flowers that I had planted just a few days ago. As I approached the front window well, I heard a few sharp whistles and I knew right away it was out-of-place, it was some sort of distress call from a bird. At first it was quite faint but then, as I approached the basement window, I could hear it again and this time it was much clearer.

I was expecting to find a young common house sparrow, but when I looked down amongst the stones, there he was a golden treasure. It was a small gosling only a few weeks old, it had a beautiful yellow coloration and its web was black and oily with nice sharp claws.

This gosling was a beauty, and just as soon as I stepped into the window well, it approached my foot almost instantly. We had a connection; I picked it up in my hands in order to return it to the creek but that was not the safest place for a little goose. The creek near my place is full of predators, I knew that the female was sitting on her nest down the creek by the beaver dam but I did not want to disturb her.

So, I walked down to the creek with the gosling calling out sharp bursts of chirps. I placed it in the water, it called out and swam away, then turned right around and came right back to me. I started talking to it in a soft voice and told it to swim up the creek near its nest but the bugger did not want to have anything to do with the water.

So I decided to help it out even more, I knew that the nest was only one hundred meters down the creek, so I picked up the gosling and placed it further up in the creek toward the south-east. This was going to be an experiment, so I placed the gosling back into the water and it started to call out again this time there were two different types of chirps, several short and then one long and the longer call was sharp and loud.

I whistled a few times to provoke the female and attempted a few clucks and then sure enough after a few attempts I got a faint response coming from the tree line just meters from the edge of the creek but on the other side, further down on my left from where I was standing.

At first the gosling started to swim back and head onto the bank toward me but when the female goose let out a few short faint calls, it was enough to catch the attention of the gosling who used its loud longer chirp and it was followed by the female short honk. The gosling then responded with the loud longer chirp and this went back and forth for about four times.

This was perfect my gosling placement along with its long distress chirps, the female goose called back from its roost but never broke the tree line; her call was working. That gosling headed straight for her call near the beaver dam and I had successfully reconnected the gosling with the female.

This was an extremely rewarding treat. I may be a seasoned waterfowler but that brief encounter with the gosling was so mesmerizing and observing nature communicating was simply amazing. It made me appreciate even more the work that “Ducks Unlimited” and many other similar organizations achieve every day.

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I drove carefully through the creek, it was going to be a quick crossing; just minutes before I had put on my Allen waders and walked across it to see how deep it was, this also let me find the sharp rocks sticking out of the muddy bottom.

As the tires pushed through the creek, three mallards that were hidden in the dense grass burst into flight heading westward, they were climbing gradually but their flight lightning fast, one drake and two hens. I was heading to the edge of the marsh to the south-east.

When I first arrived at the farm I noticed the southern field was empty with no Canada geese in sight. I wasn’t sure how my hunt was going to turn out on this fall day but I always try to be creative and remain optimistic.

The cows were scattered all around the barns and open fields, I was hoping for a good day but there were no birds in sight. I took a few deep breaths and with my binoculars in hand, I started to scan the landscape. Over a kilometer away in a south-westerly direction, I noticed long black objects poking out the swamp grass, they were moving very little but just enough that I could make out the difference from the tree stumps left by the beavers and a goose neck.

I stood there on top of the ridge for a few more minutes, raised and lowered my binoculars several times trying to get a better look at the thin black sticks. Once I cleared the creek, I turned toward the west and moved along the ridge driving in the low ground, and my plan was to park away from my start point for my stalk.

With the truck now parked exactly where I wanted it, I opened the driver door and stepped out onto the moist field. It was a cold windy day, so I put on my Remington hunting jacket and zipped it up just below the chest pouch fitted with a magnetic strip of my waders giving me easy access to my shells.

With my 870 ready and placed on the field floor I took three Challenger shells and loaded them and pumped one into the chamber and placed the safety on. The whole time I was kneeling beside the truck, I kept my eyes on the cattle more particularly the big black bull.

They were only a few meters away and I only had small spruce trees and dead tree stumps, between them and I and they got pretty weary with me crawling around them.

I now had to move my way closer to the water’s edge without triggering any panic among the geese, especially the one’s on watch. As I came around the front of the truck and headed to the water, I would sneak up behind some trees, then move my way around to freshly cut stumps left by the beavers. The ground beneath me was transforming into a muddy sludge mixed in with rotten pieces of wood and rock.

With my green balaclava pulled over my face; every few steps I would stop and check my alignment with the spotter geese and then adjust my movement forward, so that they could not see me.

I was now only twenty meters away but it felt like a longer distance than this as I could no longer finish my approach slouched forward. I had to get down on my hands and knees, and with every pace forward, I would meticulously place my shotgun onto swamp grass mounds just high enough to keep my barrel cleared of the muck.

A few weeks earlier I had observed my cat stalking some common house sparrows in the tall grass. Everyone of her muscles were moving in a calculated fashion then very often she would stop and just watch, then adjust her position again and move forward with only her front legs and then minutes later she would bring in her bag legs forward, thus allowing her to jump forward with the maximum reach allowed. It was incredible that a large black object like her could move ahead closer to the birds without sending them into flight.

I was now knee-deep in the cold waters, my hands were breaking through the very thin layer of ice and then sinking into the muck, my fingers were starting to burn because of the cold waters but I was so focused on my approach that I did not give much thought to my uncomfortable movement.

I finally got into the position but my left boot was stuck in the mud, I had to figure out how to shift my hip forward and get into a good shooting position without getting too high. I grabbed a chewed beaver stump placed my fingers carefully around tip and pulled myself up.

This was all done in an exaggerated slow motion, so that I did not alert the spotter geese. I could hear one of them calling out nervous short calls. But before I could shoot, I needed to get one final look at the main group of geese in behind the marsh grass and ensure that my first shot was going to be perfect and safe.

The group formed a sort of broken circle with three geese lined up with two on each side. I took several deep breaths then looked down into the water, my heart was beating like crazy and I was breathing like I had just run several kilometers.

I was ready and had all my shots planned out, I did the slow controlled push-off of my safety button just like Wade Bourne had shown in one of his videos. I slowly raised myself up behind thin branches of a dead tree that came up out of the water like a cypress tree in the shape of the letter “y”, my ruse worked for a few seconds until the geese started calling out aggressively and pushing off into flight. I released my first shot when the birds where just inches off the water and my shell shot snapped the first three geese and brought them down. I aimed for the head and neck just like turkey hunting.

I could not believe it, I had just brought down three geese in one shot, the first one fell hard into the water and the two others spun and flipped back into the water right after, the first two were down but the third tried to fly again and I released a second shot.

With three harvested, I turned to my right or north-east and released another shot and hit a fourth bird and it fell and spiralled hard into the water. I had to reload, so I reached into my pocket and pulled out two more shells and loaded them then pumped and twisted to my left now in a full standing position I released another shot and brought down the largest bird of my harvest.

Once the water calmed below my feet and the empty shells floated near my boots, I had five Canada geese lying in front of me and I could not believe what had just happened.

I had just reached my daily bag limit in a matter of seconds and I was in total disbelief, my years of work to becoming a better waterfowler had just materialized before me and the future could only be brighter.

It took me several minutes to get the birds back to the truck and then drive back to the barn on my way home. While loading my kit in the back of the truck, six rock doves flew in from the east heading west over the barn by the cattle gates.

I grabbed my 870 and snuck in behind the southern barn and made my way around the front, the pigeons where flying just two meters above the ground in formation. I loaded one shell of number three and released a single shot into the flock, taking down two birds.

I have gone weeks without a single harvest but days like these taught me to never give up and learn as much as you can and spend as much time as you can in the field. It does not matter where you are in the world, after all it is in our blood and I understand!

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This year the Canada goose season in my hunting district for the province of Quebec started on the 6th of September for farmland only until September 18th and will open in the wetlands on the 19th of September until January 2nd, 2016. The second set of dates starting the 19th also includes ducks and other birds like Snipe. For more information on the dates and bag limits you can consult the Environment Canada website.

Every year, I head to my friends farm and come back with a few birds depending on the weather for the start of the season. However this year I wasn’t so lucky, so for now I will wait for opening day in the wetlands.

However this did not prevent me from attempting to call in some geese and try to communicate with them. There was something which was really interesting this time and this was that when I was calling in from the field nearby the mallard hen ducks in the marsh several hundred meters away would call back every time I finished my goose calls.

At first I was not convinced so I let out a few more Canada goose calls in three separate segments then waiting almost ten to fifteen minutes between calls and sure enough the ducks would call back. It was a very low pitch quack, it sounded like two to three long quacks.

Now I might speak duck and goose but I sure do not understand, however I can interpret and if I were a goose then the ducks message was telling me that if I needed a place to stay for the evening with water and food, well I have come to the right place.

This was very neat and if I was a goose who was beat then it would be a great place to spread my wings and land.

I wish everyone a great season!

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I was standing very still inside the barn hidden behind its double doors; this was the second barn of three in the field. The old doors had just a wide enough gap between them allowing me to see the whole southern field.

My heart was racing and I was very excited, as soon as I got to the farm in the morning for the start of my hunt, I could hear geese calling out from the field below and I knew this was going to be very promising.

A few weeks ago I had spotted a large number of Canada geese very close to the creek but too far from the third barn for a shot with too much open ground to cover in order to get closer. That is without being seen by the spotting geese of course.

In the book “Hunting & Fishing in Canada –A turn-of-the-Century Treasury” The author of the chapter “Sport with Canada Geese” Ed. W. Sandys writes the following on page 84.

“Wild and shy to a degree, suspicious of every unusual sight or sound and craftiest of all feathered game, the Canada goose is no quarry for careless sportsman or eager novice. Yet there are several methods by which these feathered foxes may be outwitted readily enough, always provided that the sportsman is a well-informed, close observer, a man of much patience, and a fairly good shot.”

I studied the open ground and had identified an old bath tub filled with water, two large thorn bushes and some low ground leading to a small muddy trench running east to west twenty-five feet out and then of course the shrub line parallel to the creek.

Twice, I came out the back of the barn crouched down really low and moved along a small fence to the west and stood up very carefully behind some boards to identifying all the spotting geese and seeing how the group was scattered. I could not immediately decide if I needed to move in from the east or west. Deep down I knew which the best choice was but I just had to calm my nerves and make a decision. It was going to be the west!

It was about nine in the morning but the sun was already very bright and warm, which made it easy for the geese to spot me. I knew it was going to take time and that I would have to move very slowly if I was going to be successful.

So, I pulled down my balaclava over my face, checked all my zipper pockets and started to move. I swiveled around in the mud and went out the back of the barn for the third time, heading out the left side of the barn.

As soon as I cleared the right corner of the barn, I got down on my belly and started my slow stalk along the muddy soil, moving along the metal fence and passing underneath the last bar of the metal gate. I had a long ways to go, but I was going to take my time, breathe and ensure that there was no chance that the spotting geese would see me.
When I usually leopard crawl, my elbows are put straight into the ground with my arms curved upward and my shotgun or rifle is horizontally across and slightly lifted off the ground in the crease of my arms. The problem with this stalk is that the geese would see the glare from my barrel if not the movement.

So, I pointed the barrel toward the geese and used my forearm to lift it off the ground. By now, I had cleared the metal gate of the fence and was in open ground and in clear view of the geese. Speed was not important in this stalk, therefore I moved my body like a caterpillar using the ball of my feet to push myself forward.

After about every meter or two, I would put my face right down in the mud and tuck my hands in and wait for a few minutes. The Realtree pattern in my clothing made me blend right into the ground which was composed of mixed grass, hay and mud. I was also able to catch my breath.

Then I would push-off again with the ball of my feet and realign myself with my new cover which was a large thorn-bush large enough to hide a person kneeling down. I was breathing heavily not necessarily from all the crawling but from the excitement of getting so close to the geese.

It took me a while to cover about twenty-five meters, stopping, moving and observing. Now only one meter from the thorn-bush, the older and large spotting geese where getting nervous as they stretched their necks out further. They were only six meters on the other side of the bush.

Their instinct was telling them something but they could not see me, a few of them called out short calls (Cluck), similar to the turkey cut call . Alarming but not urgent, I had to move now before I was going to be seen. I loaded three shells, pumped the action and stood up lightning fast and the geese burst into the air, I fired off two shells into the closest bird and he spiraled and fell about 6 feet from the ground, I fired one more shell into another bird but missed. The gaggle had flown around and was now circling but they were too high for another harvest.

It was a great waterfowl hunt; I harvested a great bird and still had a full day ahead.

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Quick Tom

The truck drove slowly up the long dirt road between the north and south-western hay fields carefully avoiding the mud holes. The creaking sounds of the suspension faded into the country music that was playing low on the radio. Once we reached our spot, the driver put it into park and stopped at the top of the eastern ridge on the forest edge.

It had been raining for a few hours now and the temperature was starting to drop at about six degrees Celsius, we had lowered our windows, so that we could hear the nightly sounds and hopefully get a gobble or an owl hoot. I then carefully swung my door open, stepped out into the mud and moved my way to the back to the truck, unzipped my hunting bag and grabbed my crow caller.

It had been dark for about thirty minutes now and we were slowly sinking further into darkness. I cupped my hands around my mouth and started with a few owl calls and then waited a few minutes, then called again with my crow caller. This went on for a few minutes and would stop, listening with my hands cupped around my ears, and then I would start calling again. I was anticipating a call back from a gobbler but instead I heard crickets, geese from the lake nearby and some other nocturnal animals. The farmer had said that the field on our left was full of turkeys during the week and so we were attempting to find their roost.

After a few failed attempts, we packed up and made our way back to the cabin for the night. It was going to be a short sleep because we wanted to be back on site about half an hour before sunrise in order to get the best setup. Since I had not located the roost, we decided that in the morning we were going to still-hunt along the edge of the fields just like Ray Eye had done in his book. You must exercise a great deal of discipline while moving through the woods and fields, know your terrain, be patient as well as have a good eye.

Turkeys can hear and see extremely well and it is absolutely critical that you know and understand the game you are pursuing.

It was now five in the morning and I awoke to some nice song birds. Within minutes we had eaten breakfast, which was a few pieces of toast and a cold glass of milk, and then we loaded the gear into truck and drove back to the very same spot. My good friend was carrying my decoys in a bag, along with green mosquito netting for cover. I had my Quaker Boy slate caller around my neck, a set of binoculars and my pump-action Remington 870.

The hunt was on and we were extremely excited, we slowly moved our way east through some copse of trees between the east and western fields and as we broke the forest edge two deer leapt into the tree line to our right and disappeared. We decided to go up the left hand side of the field north-east of the truck and then cut across about half way through as there was a crest in the field leading to a point which offered a great shooting spot.

As we slowly made our way up the forested edge of the third field, I went down on one knee and completed Wade Bourne’s Fly down Cackle hitting my hat against the tree bark and boy it sounded authentic.

I must have alerted some animals nearby because within an instant of finishing my call a coyote came trotting along the field to our right and then when he saw us he disappeared just as fast as the two does. We did however find his meal left over’s which was a porcupine carcass. Several minutes had gone by and now after having seen some wildlife our senses were set to high gear and then almost every dark object in the fields looked like an animal.

We must have taken around forty more steps and had stopped by a pile of logs when my friend tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to our left. We instantly took a knee and stared at the large black mark in the center of the field down in the low ground. As we looked on, I noticed that it was lifting and lowering its head but it was too far out to make out what it was. I whispered “It looks like a coyote” but my friend was not so sure, so I handed him my binoculars and he focused on the animal. He was several hundred yards away down in the low ground. Behind him was a beautiful valley and on its crest there were very large trees mixed with pine and aspen, oak and birch.

To his north there was a very large hay-field and a small lake behind some more trees which formed a sort of barrier between the two features. To his south there was another field and it was on its southern edge where my point and best shooting spot was located. By the time my friend handed me the binoculars to have a look, he had already whispered back that it was a very large tom and he had a huge smile on his face. It seems that my calls had worked and he was spreading his wings in a feathered dance then moving slowly into the direction of my calls. He was all alone with no other turkeys in sight.

We kept very low and slowly moved back toward the southern edge and decided to place the two decoys twenty-five yards from the brush. My friend walked back to the logs some thirty yards to the west providing me with a safe and wide shooting arc. Ideally, I needed to be further east on the point but I could no longer move as the tom was closing in on my decoys and would have instantly seen me.

I tucked myself into the bushes on the edge of the forest my back facing south with my decoys slightly to my left to the west about fifteen yards out. I carefully placed my Remington 870 aiming directly to my front and lifted my slate caller and let out a few cutts, yelps and purrs. I would then lift my binoculars, look for the tom’s position and reaction.

At first I could see him moving toward me but then he would fade into the low ground, and I thought to myself “Damn! He saw me.” Then I would see this very long neck pop up like a submarine periscope and then disappear again behind the grassy knoll. It was quite comical. What I found very neat is that he never once communicated with me, not even a few clucks or a gobble.

There was one thing which was clear and this is that this tom was quick and he was in a hurry to see my hen decoys. He was now fifty yards out to my right, I had tucked myself away into a ball and pulled my camouflage hood over my head, I looked like a Real Tree bush with just my eyes moving, he was moving quickly but cautiously towards my two decoys. He would complete another feather dance which was just breath-taking and you could see his beard dragging along the ground. He would then tuck his head back in and move forward a few more steps, then stop and move yet again.

My heart was racing like crazy and I kept on going through my shot scenarios and wanted to insure I chose the best time to take my shot, so I waited for him to walk directly to my front, I slowly raised my Remington 870 and unlocked the safety using the slow push technique which Wade Bourne had shown on his video. It made no sound at all, took my breaths and when he was twenty-five yards out, I lined up my bead sight with his head and neck and let out a shot of number four.

It struck him by surprise and made him jump into a winged frenzy, I instantly leapt out of the bushes and while on my second step toward the bird I fired a second shot. Upon the second impact he spun around and the twenty-three pound beast fell to the ground. I had just harvested my turkey on the second day of this year’s season and it was all over in less than two hours. Brilliant!

I may never meet Wade Bourne, Ray Eye and Preston Pittman in my lifetime but they were all present during my hunt. Thank you!

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I don’t know about you but when ever I come back from a hunt, all I want to do is share my experiences in great detail to my family and friends. Even if sometimes they may be pretending to be interested but are not really listening, as long as they say “Really” or “Neat” once is a while that works for me. After all not everyone understands hunting.

When I post a hunting story of mine on my blog, I want the readers to be there and share the experience with me, breathing in the fresh air, being surrounded by the elements. Now imagine yourself learning about turkey hunting at its best and yet at the same time feeling that you are also right there with the author.

This is the way Ray Eye’s book on practical turkey hunting is written. Being a turkey hunter and having successfully called in several Tom’s in various weather conditions, this book is awesome and the strategies are extremely practical.

I only have five chapters left and I find it very difficult to put the book down. Throughout the chapters, Ray demonstrates his true character and his perseverance to learn and master the art of turkey calling and hunting starting from a very young age. He is without a doubt a seasoned veteran and a well-respected turkey hunter. 

The book: Practical Turkey Hunting Strategies: How to Hunt Effectively Under Any Conditions is a must read. Ray has been very generous in sharing his knowledge. I can not wait for the spring turkey hunt to start now and add his flavor to my hunt.

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Opening in the Woods

Opening in the Woods

Every inch forward was laborious as I slowly lifted up my legs readying them for the next step; my boots were cutting through the thin crust of snow and then systematically sinking to the depths of my knees. I could feel my heart racing and my breathing was getting heavier, not only from the fatigue but also because of the excitement of tracking a fresh hare lead that was shadowed by a coyote and that of a grouse. After having made my way up the dirt road going west for about thirty yards, I turned to my right, walked up the ditch and headed north onto the western farm field along the edge of woods.

Experience had taught me that it was much easier to stay close to the base of the trees because the snow was not as deep and more compacted thus making easier to walk. Unfortunately for me I was not as light as the hare or coyote and on this particular day I did not pack my snowshoes as part of my kit. So it was slow-moving, which was ideal because you do not want to plow through the woods or the hares would rush ahead and the white ghost would live up to its name.

I followed the first hare lead I found until it wandered off to my left, for that particular moment I was more interested in the coyote tracks, which seemed to be that of a large male and they were bunched together close to the tracks of a grouse. I carefully followed both tracks for about twenty yards and as I got to a large pine tree, I noticed the coyote tracks had stopped, so did the grouses but there were also ten scratch marks in the snow in groups of five. It was like someone had spread their fingers and dragged them through the snow. It was clear to me that this was the spot where the grouse lifted off, because only a short distance away as I continued to follow the coyote tracks I was suddenly startled by the grouse, which took off only a few feet in front of me heading deeper in the woods.

The temperature was fifteen below zero and there was a cold north-westerly wind that chilled the air. Once in a while my shooting glasses would fog up and I needed to stop then clear them before I could follow the leads again. A couple of hours had passed and I was still on the western side of Goose Lake and in just a few more hours it was going to be lunch time. I started to make my way back to the car following two more leads in an out of the cedar and pine, leading up over a very high ridge.

I wanted to take a much-needed break and so I chose the strange-looking tree at the top of the ridge on the western side. I found the dead tree standing in the middle of the ridge surrounded by small bushes, tall grass and deadfall. Its trunk was dark brown and all the bark was stripped off, the branches had fallen around it forming a natural wooden cage.
It was quite unusual to see wood naturally fall like this creating similar shapes to that of mangled barbed wire. It reminded me of the scene from the movie “The Edge” when the bear was chasing Charles Morse (Anthony Hopkins) through the woods and the actor was able to jump into a similar pile of wood and seek shelter without being reached.

Some of the branches were held up at a forty-five degree angle and big enough to walk on, with the upper part still connected to the tree. So, I went up one of the larger branches and stood two meters off the ground. I had a full view of the south-east and western side of the area and I was scanning the area looking for any small game activity.

I stood there for about fifteen minutes, just listening and watching over the vast area and for that moment I felt a great sense of high and freedom being so high off the ground and feeling the elements all around me. Here I was in the dead of winter, alone, surrounded by wilderness and I was being absorbed by it all.

The land owner had told me that this particular male coyote was posing a threat to his three new calves. Not only this, I had been badgered by the very same one a few weeks prior with my hare I had snared.

Therefore he had asked me to help with this endeavor. I gladly accepted as I had just purchased a new three caller kit from “Quaker Boy” and was anxious to try it out. I know he was around because I had seen his fresh tracks all morning on both sides of Goose Lake.

When I got back to the sand quarry, I setup on one of the highest knolls and sprayed some synthetic rabbit urine and let out some distress calls and then various coyote calls. After about an hour of on and off calling, I decided to continue my chase for the elusive white ghost.

On the north-eastern side of the farm there is an old barn that is surrounded by dense woods and by its entrance there were old washing machines and snow blowers and various machine parts. This is heaven for rabbits and hare and I remember reading about this in one of my books. So I found a fresh lead and followed it in and out of the woods and the old machinery.

This was becoming fun and after having had lunch and a short break, I was now ready to actively chase again. This lead and its tracks were very fresh and for the first time in a while, I had a very strange feeling come over me, it was kind of like some form of energy, hunter intuition that surrounded me like I knew this lead was not dry but there was something for sure nearby if not at its end.

The chase was on and this lead was making me work hard, it eventually came up to the road heading north on the eastern side of Goose lake, I found two more leads, one going north and the other south. So, I slowly walked through an opening in the woods towards the lake and then headed south to the quarry.

Earlier in the year during the month of October, I had seen a mound that was about sixty feet long at the edge of the woods facing south and on the side facing the woods there was a series of hollow openings offering great shelter for small game. I had also noticed droppings and urine stains plus well-travelled leads. That particular area was filled with low cedar and it was very dark inside and I knew that it could be promising habitat.

So this time around, I began to scan very slowly to my left as I was walking by the cedar and this is when I spotted the black shiny eye. There wasn’t a sound just this very still Canadian snowshoe hare looking right at me in his freeze pose. There was no doubt that he was well hidden behind this natural screen of cedar leaves and branches. He was as white as the snow in his background with only a touch of grey on the top of his hind legs.
 
We made instant eye contact and yet neither of us moved, then I re-adjusted my eyes quickly and focused on him again. This time the rest of his silhouette was now clear. I only had a few seconds to react. I quickly raised my 870 and in one single motion unlocked the safety and fired a clean single shot.
 
The leaves and branches of the cedar shield disintegrated and when the snow settled my harvest was confirmed.

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