Wildside- Late Season Duck Hunting

Nature saves her best for late-season hunters

 

© Zane Mirfin, Wildside Column, Nature saves her best for late-season hunters, Nelson Mail, 30 July 2011

Ducks down: Gerald Beattie of Richmond with a bag of late-season ducks shot on local rivers this month.

In life, I guess I’ve always been a late starter, but when it comes to hunting and fishing there’s nothing better than leaving the best for last.

Many anglers and hunters lust for opening day and early season with easy birds and hungry fish but I’ve always enjoyed the tailend of the seasons, preferring quality experiences over quantity.

Early season sees a multitude of trout fishermen and duck hunters out there doing it, but by mid season interest for most has waned. By late season many sportsmen have given up and packed their rods and guns away, looking forward to the start of another season.

Not me – I go right till the end.  Late season is a great time to hunt and fish, to enjoy and cherish the resource and best of all there’s likely to be no-one else out there.

There is something special fishing for late-season trout before winter spawning comes around, to fish that have survived a multitude of anglers and that are big, fat and cunning. Some of the biggest trout are always caught late season, and the trout caught at the end of the 2010 season were crackers, many over the magic 10lb (4.5kg) mark.

Autumn trout fishing is great with short sunny days, golden willows, and voracious trout that are bright and plump from a summer of bounty. The sun is low in the sky and although the spotting light isn’t what it was in mid-summer, the river takes on a special feel, with fish feeding hard, knowing spawning and winter are
not far away.

April on the lower Wairau was a special experience with my brother-in-law, Guy Mullon of Melbourne. Our wives had allowed us only two hours to fish and we literally ran to the river on the outskirts of Blenheim. Guy threw a lure while I swam a few flies deep through the silver riffles. The fish were invisible but willing, thudding on to my flies while Guy had some big shadows follow his lure.

Before we knew it, our time was up but the magic weather, time together and a few fish in the bag heralded the end of another epic fishing season and we headed home happy men.

Likewise, duck hunting in public waters in late winter is another special experience, where the cunning mallard is fast, shrewd and evasive right till the end of the shooting season.

This past week Gerald Beattie of Richmond and I had a ball rafting the rivers of Marlborough and Tasman for ducks.

The weather was cold and almost perfect for rafting with high river flows and clear days.

One early morning, leaving the family asleep at St Arnaud, I even had trouble getting my truck out of the garage and down the ice and snow-covered driveway – a perfect day to hunt ducks.

We have some great rivers to raft in the northern South Island, but sadly many are being loved to death and inevitably shooting opportunities will lessen over time as housing and other development encroach upon the wild river spaces we now currently enjoy.

When I used to spend a lot of time in the United States, I was always impressed how the Americans were able to take a long-term view and protect their river corridors for everyone, minimising short-term development and domination by individuals.

Rivers belong to the public but even this week one landowner appeared unhappy with us shooting on the river, standing on the bank like Elmer Fudd guarding his carrot patch.

On-stream though, the company was awesome and we shared rowing, shooting and many laughs. Sneaking along tight to riverside willows, we navigated downstream, flushing ducks at close range that were hiding away under riverside vegetation.

There’s nothing more exciting than a big mallard drake, resplendent in silver plumage and shining green head, bursting forth from the water, quacking stridently, orange legs dangling, while clawing for height up through leafless willows.

A few quick shots, the excitement of the chase, and a fine duck dinner plummeting on to the water’s surface are all part of a great day out.

Spectacular sunrises, waves of flying birds, and the smell of gunpowder are all primal experiences that help us find meaning in a crazy, crazy world.