The blind building a blind….

All great events come from a great idea, well executed.  And then there was our decision to hunt Pistakee Lake…… again.  After having our butts handed to us by Pistakee Bay (closest water access to our house) TWICE, we decided a wider map needed to be drawn, to “Terra Incognito”, or “the other side of Pistakee Lake”, or Myers Bay, as the locals call it.

We observed that in the fall, somewhat like the daisies of the spring, duck blinds sprouted all over the lakes nearby.  We made some calls, and found that the proper way to do this was to register for a chance to have a blind on the lake, and once selected, you went out on a boat with the DNR and numerous other hunters, equipped with a gallon jug with rope and weight attached, and your name- to select a spot for your very own duck blind.  We had our selection, noting the old rotten remains of a duck blind on the shore (we were certain it was last used around the time of Columbus…..)

 and decided that THIS would be the year of our success.

We then embarked on the PLAN (see Jim’s earlier blog about our ALL CAPS “PLANS”), making several drawings, and finally accumulating the necessary raw materials at Tators house (see “Goosses” story), and building sections small enough to be transferred north to Buffalo’s home, and then, by the BBB (Big Blue Boat), out to the duck blind spot selected.

What could go wrong?

We picked a nice early fall day to build our blind, and transported the boat and duck blind sections and poles to the closest boat launch.  It was earlier noted that the BBB belonged to my then fiancé (who will be referred to as Darling Fiance, or DF, to protect her reputation), but it was not mentioned that BBB hated men- or at least more specifically, me.  If DF was not nearby, BBB would resist starting, strongly.  It was especially unhappy when it would be threatened with drowning, which I did that day by forgetting to put the plug in.  at this point, lesser souls would have retreated back home and turned on a football game, but not us!  We emptied the boat, threw a few well placed curses into the air to scare BBB into starting, and loaded her (all boats are her, but this one particularly so) with fearless hunters and the pieces of our duck blind- and across the lake we went!

We locate our gallon jug marker, declare this spot hallowed duck hunting ground, and begin assembling the blind (a task worthy of a tale, but not here).  We finish it, and go to head home, with visions of ducks landing in our decoys in a few weeks.  All that was left was to come back shortly before the season started to camo the blind with lots of cat-tails and reeds.  Or so we thought.  BBB had other plans- she would not start, and the same well placed curses used at the boat launch did not avail us here.  My recollection is a but fuzzy, don’t remember if she had to be towed home, or finally started, or a combination, but we managed to get back.

So the week before opening day came, and as we were out decorating our blind, we were surprised by a boat load of very angry hunters, who questioned our not only our parentage but our IQ, because it turned out that the ancient rotted blind we built in front of was actually used every year…. (more on this later).  They claimed to have used this blind every year for decades, and were not to be displaced by a bunch of newcomers (who, as it turned out, were not as well armed on this decorating trip, and were threatened with a few well placed shots in our boats if we didn’t depart.  So, like gypsies, we were chased away, lifting the slightly anchored legs of our blind and moving it a couple hundred yards around the corner, to another blind that we were assured was also one of their older ones, and no problem for us to be near……. Uh huh.

OPENING DAY!!  Of course, we were there early, of course we were ready with decoys out well before the appointed hour that guns could be discharged!  The first of many hours of hot coffee and cold pop-tarts was spent in happy bliss, expecting hoards of ducks, eager for company, would find our decoys.  And then from across the bay, a boat approaches, and continues directly to us….. an angry hunter noticing that we put our blind directly in front of HIS!

I should back up.  After the threat and moving of our blind, we checked with the DNR, and got the name of the owner of that entire shoreline- a nice little old lady that knew nothing of anyone hunting on her property.  We kept her name and number handy for any further encounters we might have with unhappy shore hunters, such as we were just having.  We mentioned this to the angry gentleman we mentioned above, who assured us we did not need to call her, just a big misunderstanding.  He asked why we selected the location, we told him of our earlier gun-toting friends around the bend- he knew who they were, and suggested he would have a nice chat with them later that day….problem solved!

Except the ducks did not come- at least not any that we could hit with anything less than orbital launch capabilities.  Except for one nasty diving duck that taunted us for much of the day- never surfacing where we could actually hit him (if our code of honor would allow us to shoot a duck on the water….but we were tempted)

So, again, Hunters- 0, Pistakee Lake- 3, if you are keeping score.  By the end of that season, we further enjoyed:

·         Back Boat- a shifting issue with the previously mentioned john boat (still hazardously overloaded) forced us to back all the way across the lake, into the wind, to get home, creating ice crust that peeled off Tator’s back like a large frozen coat

·         Ticket Time!- more tickets- this time parking tickets at the boat launch, for sticking 6” into a resident’s driveway, where his winter stored boat was parked…..  Tator and Slug

·         Sunken John Boat Time!- we parked the boat at my Bro-in-Law’s channel near our hunting spot (cutting our 5 mph commute by nearly 75%), and heavy rains sunk it a couple times…..

·         Hammer Time!- Buffalo decided to use a 20 lb sledgehammer to drive in wooden stakes to hold the john boat in place at the BIL’s channel- only it slipped, and drive a 2” sliver into his finger, tearing it open from 1^st to 3^rd knuckle, and almost causing Tator to pass out as he drove the Buffalo to the ER for 12 stitches….

Sooooo, end of Duck Blind, Season 1, Pistakee Lake (and ducks)- 6, Hunters- 0

There has got to be a better way……..  or not, as we find out later.