Aiming high for charity

During my time in the United Kingdom, I had the opportunity to shoot with a lot of amazing people, the first of whom was Pete Livesey, way back in October.

I had kept in regular contact with Pete following our trips on pheasants, ducks, roe deer and grouse. In January he mentioned he might have a few days of shooting I might be interested in, and would Bailie, my girlfriend, and I, like to come up to Cumbria?

Space was quickly made in the schedule and Bailie and I made our way up by bus to enjoy a few days with Pete and his lovely wife Jan and hopefully get onto a few birds, while also doing our part for a great cause.

The plan was to spend day one on a syndicate shoot that Pete was part of that covered several woods on a few estates in the area, shooting duck and pheasant, both driven and walked up. Day two was something special. I had been extended an invitation by Pete to join him and another syndicate to take part on a fundraising shoot, raising money for the hospice that had looked after the keepers wife at the tough end of her battle with Cancer. She had loved the shoots, had often come down to prepare the meals and socialise with the shooters and her loss was felt by many people. While I had never had the pleasure of meeting her, I could tell she had been well respected and loved by all of those involved.

Starting out on day 1 was a duck drive, where a large pond was flushed of mallards. Being quite late in the season, I was surprised to see so many ducks in attendance and I managed to pick up 3 birds in 3 shots with Pete's trusty Winchester O/U - a gun I have grown to love. We spent the next few hours driving pheasants. I was standing out on my peg, with Pete and Bailie along with the dogs working the beating line. Bailie got a shot on the SLR of a rooster flushing, that was collected by a shot of my own a few hundred meters away - great team work! With a good bag of duck and pheasant for the day, we then shot off to the taxidermist to pick up our red grouse that we had mounted and to drop off my woodcock, wigeon and partridge from Scotland. All in all, it was a day well spent.

The next day saw us join head keeper Dave and the crew for the fundraising shoot. Dave was in great spirits for the day, and to see everyone wearing an item of clothing in yellow as a further tribute was great. He was happy to have us there and told us about Anne, what she meant to the shoot and to everyone else in the community. It was a very positive atmosphere and we felt privileged to be part of it. We each made our donation, before starting off on a duck drive. The ducks had been living in a large wood with a small pond in the centre of it. It was a flurry of ducks that exploded out of the wood when the dogs went in and most shooters managed a shot or two. After the first drive, I had two ducks so I couldn't have been happier.

As this was the only duck drive of the day, we then swapped 12 bores for small bores - and I couldn't wait. My first gun of choice was a lovely 28ga o/u - a gauge I had never shot before. With my first shot of the little 28ga I bagged a French partridge and missed another. Over all I was pretty happy with how the cartridge shot, but it was time to swap around. Up next was possibly the biggest surprise.  Perhaps it was because I am a kiwi, but I was given what I can only say is the least likely firearm I ever thought I would shoot driven pheasants with - a pump action, suppressed Mossberg 500 in .410. With so many shooters taking part, everyone brought what ever small gauge gun they could - I was just happy that someone had leant me one to use!

The second to last drive ended up being a belter. There were pheasants everywhere and once again the small gauges were doing the damage. I managed 7 pheasants in 10 shots from the .410, some of which were quite high on driven birds swooping over with the wind behind them. For the final drive, I was lucky enough to have a rooster flush early right at me. One shot from the .410 and my days bag was complete.

Of all the shooting experiences I have had since being in the UK, that charity day will remain with me for a long time. The shooting on offer

was fantastic, and to be invited onto a fully driven shoot for such a great cause was an honour. Everywhere I go, I meet people that would bend over backwards to help you. They welcome Bailie and I into their homes, their lives and their shoots. We have met some amazing people on our trip and this shoot was no different. We both would have loved to have met Anne, but after spending the day with her husband Dave and the rest of the shoot, hearing the stories and seeing the respect she garnered, we definitely met the spirit of the lady, and the legacy she left behind.

Luck of the Irish

Why sleep in when you can see this?

Ireland and New Zealand have always had a strong connection, and after recently travelling over the ditch from London to Northern Ireland, I can see why.

Ross introduced himself to me on a Facebook group, and very graciously offered to host me for a few days duck shooting. He told me he couldn't make any promises, but if I was willing to make the trip over, he would do his best to see me get a shot or two.

Knowing ducks as I do, nothing is ever certain, but I did know that I would get to meet a top lad like Ross, and get my first look at Ireland.

A plan was put in place that would see me land in on Friday, and hunt Saturday, but just before I booked my flights, Ross told me a good mate of his - Mark, was heading out on the Friday, and if I wanted to, I could join him. I couldn't believe it, now I had two Irishman whom I had never met, offering to take me out. Suffice to say, I booked a flight for Thursday night and then counted the days.

I got off to a rocky start, after Easyjet refused to let me on the plane as my bulging bag was to large. There was only one thing for it. After putting on thermal trousers, over top of jeans, knee high welly's, and a goretex jacket over a fleece shooting jacket, the bag was good to go! I had so much sweat dripping off me, and bulging with clothes, I can only imagine what people were thinking, and I'm still surprised security didn't ask me to step into a corner office! Arriving into Belfast, Ross laughed at this, then told me once he had to wear his chest waders in order to catch a flight! Duck shooters are dedicated!

Ross took me round to meet his family for a home cooked meal. I learned that Ross and I were very much alike. We are both nearer to 30 than 20, both played outside centre, both love our duck shooting and both have little to no hair left! Everyone was very friendly and welcoming in the Scott house hold, and the partridge soup was fantastic! After dinner, Ross drove me out to meet Mark who lives just under 2 hours away. I didn't know Mark lived this far from Ross, and I told him he really didn't need to have done this for me as it was quite late and he had work the next day. He said rubbish, its only a drive. To say Ross would give you the jacket off his back in the rain would be an understatement.

Nina had a great day, with some long retrieves on the open water of the lough

The snow was gently falling as we met up with Mark, I grabbed my gear out or Ross's van, loaded it into Mark's, then we were off. The high waters in Ireland were on their way down finally, so Mark thought it prudent to go check on the duck boat that we would be using the next day. Sure enough, it was only just in water. We managed to get it into a nearby drain, and then refloated it into the lough. Better to spend an hour doing it the night before, than running late the next morning.

We headed back to Mark's family home, where I met his parents, and we had a couple of quiet brews, then off to bed for a few hours before we were to be up again before first light.

A beautiful spot for open water duck shooting

Friday morning was magical. The snow covered landscape was sparkling under moonlight, and the air was as fresh as mother nature could make it - a nice change from London! Boating to our spot,  water droplets were freezing to the sides of the hull, but we were quickly warmed up by putting out a good spread of decoys under the rising sun.

The sun lit up a stunning snow covered, rural landscape. Geese were honking in the distance, and ducks were whislting past. All ready the trip was worth it, and we hadn't fired a shot.

Ross was good enough to lend me his callers, and it felt good getting back to calling in birds, and contributing to a hunt. Mark told me what notes and when to use them, and away I went. The first birds into the spread were a pair of green wing teal. Mark was up and banging as they flew right over us and dropped one, but I was far to slow and only managed to make them fly a little faster.

My first tufted duck and green wing teal

The next mob was much the same, and I thought 'oh no - its going to be one of those days'. We then had a group of 3 peel behind us then come screaming in from the right side. I went up and pumped 3 shots out of the Bronwing A5 and amazingly watched 3 green wing teal fall out of the sky! We dont have green wing teal in New Zealand so this was another first for me. I didn't realise I had got a tripple until I looked at Mark who was swearing at his Fabarm - a jam! Mark's lab Nina didnt care who shot them, she just piled out of the duck boat and had a great day on the retrieve. It's always nice to watch a dog in action, as we all know they enjoy it more than us!

As good as the shooting was, the day's highlight was when Mark found a spare decoy to throw out, which he did, unceremoniously into a tree. There was no way to get it down, other than to blow the branch off. I was in hysterics as Mark shot the offending branch, and just when I thought it couldn't get any worse for poor old Mark, Nina heard the shot and heard the splash and was out on retrieve! I'm sure she still cant work out why Dad was shooting his decoys, and why they were in a tree!

It was a typical day on the ducks. Long waits, then sudden bursts of excitement as there are ducks everywhere. We managed to bag a few more GW teal, and even got a pair of mallards. We then had a pair of ducks come round and Mark got instantly excited. He told me 'dont miss' - no pressure! I knew what ever they were, Mark wanted me to bag one. The two ducks flared in beautifully and Mark and I both went up. We each cleanly took our bird for a nice team double. Mark had a smile on his face when Nina brought back in the first of a pair of drake tufted ducks. I had never seen a duck like it before, and was over the moon. Another first, and my first 'diver'.

Mark and I shot very well together, but all that was forgotten when I missed a sitter of a wigeon drake. Safe to say, Mark will ensure I don't forget that one, but luckily I had bagged one in Scotland a few weeks earlier otherwise I would have felt very ill!

We packed up early enough to get back to Marks for some dinner before heading out again for some flight pond action. We were set up on a soak just off a small river and had a great evening. It was a truely sporting shoot, with GW teal screaming in out of the half light. As hard as they were, we still added a few to the days bag, but I did miss a snipe and Mark missed a Woodcock. Nobody's perfect!

Our action packed day in Ireland was over, and what a day it was. We packed up the van, dropped the ducks off to Mark's, before starting the drive to Ross's, where the following day was to be spent targeting Divers - I couldn't wait!

Myself, Mark and Nina at the end of the day on the Lough

Day 2 - 7 Species in 3 days - Shooting the Scottish Highland's

After a cracking day at Red Castle, we started Day 2 with something very traditional. Alex took me Wild Fowling, in an attempt to get me my first Wigeon, and what ever else the Firth might produce. With so many species living and roosting on it, you just never know what may fly your way. The tides on the Moray Firth weren't perfect, with the rocks that were to offer us great cover, and get us close to the flight line still well under water, but with the birds flying at first light, you cant afford to wait for the tide either. We therefore perched ourselves as close to the water, and the deeper channel as we could, and waited for the birds to fly on dawn. Fly they did, and we saw good numbers of both Wigeon and Mallard, but they were just out of range, but I still got to see my first Wigeon! All in all, it was a morning well spent on the Firth.

We headed home for breakfast, then Alex told to me to change out of the welly's and into hiking boots, as we were off to do some miles in the hills looking for Pheasant's and, possibly even get a shot at my first Partridge.

Arriving at Cawdor, We met up with the rest of the crew, both of the 2 and 4 legged variety. We were hunting over pointers, and they looked as excited as I was. We worked our way to the first section of real cover, each taking a line. I was beside Phil on the far right, and enjoyed watching his dog work the scent. I enjoyed it even more when I saw him go into Point. Suddenly, a Cock Pheasant exploded from in front of the pointer, and Phil took in cleanly. On the Shot, a Cock flushed at long range in front of me. I still felt I had a shot, and took it. Down the bird came, but I could tell it wasn't taken cleanly. The pointer, turned, and on command, raced up after my bird.  During the retrieve, yet another pheasant flushed on our side, from the same cover. This time a Hen. Phil took it cleanly on the first shot, and we waited for the pointer to return to retrieve it. I watched the dog running all over the place, and eventually, in a totally different location to where I thought my bird was, or would be, he got really excited. The dog found it, about 500 meters from where I saw it go down, and promptly returned it to Phil's hand. It was the best unsighted retrieve I have ever seen.

We continued on through the fields, and could tell the dogs were picking up scent. We arrived at a good deal of low cover, and Phil told us he reckoned the pointers were on to Partridge. They told me there wasn't a huge amount of Partridge where we were, as they were wild birds that had fled from various hunting estates in the area. We worked cover to cover, when, with an flurry of wing beats, the covey flushed - but well ahead of us, and the dogs. We kept working the cover, and another covey flushed in front. I was far to slow, and missed with both barrels behind, but the others pulled down one on a fine crossing shot, and we had our first Partridge. Seconds later, another covey flushed. This time they were flushing left to right. I was still in the wood, and had trees in every direction, but I had a clear wedge of about 40 degrees to swing through. I watched the covey come from my left, being chased by shots, and as they passed through my shooting window, up came the side by side, and down went a Red Legged Partridge! While we do have Red Legged Partridge in New Zealand, they are not found in the wild, and are only hunted on private hunting estates, so to not only see one, but bag one in the Scottish Highlands was amazing.

We headed back to the vehicle's, and took a short drive up a winding, climbing road, through forest and heather, where I was introduced to some of the most beautiful country I have ever hunted pheasants in - the Drynachan Valley. With rolling hill country, over looking the famed Findhorn river, it was a great spot to have lunch as well, and I enjoyed a traditional Scotch Egg Pie and a brew for lunch, swapping stories. Just sitting their in the sun, having lunch with new friends in the highlands makes you realise just what hunting is about.

The rest of the afternoon was spent on a very memorable walked up day on the Pheasants. The dogs were great, pointing and flushing a good number of birds, and with the rolling hills, and variety of cover, it seemed every bird offered something different. Considering it was late December, the fact the I got sunburned tells you just how off kilter the weather was at this time of year, as we should have been walking through snow! I had a lucky line once again, and managed a left and a right on a Cock and a Hen, and picked up another Cock towards the end, with everyone else either also bagging a bird, or having an opportunity to do so.  I'd fired 8 shots for 4 Pheasants and a Partridge - not a bad afternoon! Now it was off home, to swap the boots for welly's, pick up Don, and head to a flooded paddock, and see what would come in on dark.

Meeting up with the other two lads who had invited us down, we made our way through the sodden paddocks, where we found a large body of flood water. There were no birds on it, but there was a mob of Pink Foot Geese on the next paddock over. Leading up to dark, we saw several mobs of
geese wiffle down and join their friends, then one mob came a little close to us, and Alex dropped one out of the mob. I was on the board next, with a left and a right on mallards. It was getting quite dark at this point, when I heard a sound ill never forget - Wigeon! I didn't even have time to lift my gun, but Alex certainly did, and he bagged a fine Wigeon drake. It was one hell of a shot! We could hear Wigeon, but as is their custom, they were coming through right on the very end of twilight. There were ducks all over the place, either coming to the flood water, or flying over us, when I caught a glimpse of a duck in the last clear and light piece of sky I had to backdrop a bird with. I took the shot, and heard it hit the ground. It wasn't till good ol' Don retrieved it, that I found out I'd just bagged my very first Wigeon, and it was a drake! On that note, we packed up and headed out with our bag - one very happy Kiwi hunter, and what a day! Alex really pulled out the stops and did all he could to help me bag a variety of species, and a big thank you to Andrew for allowing us down to shoot his land, where I got my Wigeon. We had done everything on day 2, I couldn't really imagine how we could top it. Boy was I wrong. Day 3 added another species to my list, and it was the one bird I'd really hoped to get....

Beautifully Ordinary.

I came across an old photo the other day.

It was just a picture of a battered, ordinary looking Browning A5, with some very ordinary decoys, and an ordinary pair of ducks.

But the story of the gun itself and how I came to have it, and indeed the story of its first owner is not so ordinary.

My grandfather moved to Mainland New Zealand from the Chatham Island's following World War Two. "The Chatham's" was, and still is one of the most isolated locations in all of New Zealand, separated from the mainland by 700 kilometres of some of the roughest seas in the world - the "roaring forties". On his arrival from isolation, Laurie was naive to a lot of things. When given his first ice cream, not knowing what it was, he bit into it like a piece of fruit, and was so surprised, he dropped it!. This, if anything showed just how much there was to learn on the mainland. Having lived on an island where wild cattle, Fowl and Boar were in constant need for management or to be put in the oven, where hunting and gathering weren't just sport, but for survival, one thing he did not need to learn, was how to shoot.

On arrival to the mainland, he took up clay target shooting, both as a sport, but also to win useful prizes to support his family. He went on to compete in the 1954 New Zealand Down The Line, Single Rise, National Championship. In the shoot off to see who would compete in the final, with his last cartridge of the day, he won the shoot off, but his trusty browning A5 broke down. A young gun smith called Ian Ballinger, who was present, told my grand father, "Laurie, give that gun to me and it'll be right as rain for the final tomorrow" - or words to that effect.

Bright and early, my grand father turned up to shoot for the title, and all ready there waiting, A5 in hand, was Mr I. Ballinger. My grandfather won the title, and sold the A5 when the family fell on hard times, and there you think, the story ends.
While at University, and following in my family's hunting footsteps, I ended up working part time as a gun salesman for one of New Zealand's longest running gun shops - none other than Ballingers of Christchurch, founded by I. Ballinger. While there I ran into the original man whom my grandfather had sold the A5 to, also a friend of my fathers. He recognised my last name, and introduced himself. I asked him "what ever happened to that A5?"?

 A few owners and a lot of phone calls later, I tracked the new owner down. He said he couldn't sell me the gun...but he did give it to me. I was very proud grand son when I told Laurie, his old Browning was back in Lanauze hand's once more.

Not long after this, I carried that A5 into my grand fathers funeral and placed it on his coffin, when his time with us was at an end. Afterwards,  I took out the A5 for the 2008 Duck opening weekend, and created my own history with the famed gun, making me the 3rd Lanauze (there may have been more!), after my father and grandfather, to have hunted with this workhorse. I spent opening weekend hunting with my brother in law - Rob, in our Maimai (hide) right next to my fathers on a family friends farm that we have shot for over two decades, I shot my first Duck and my first Goose on this farm. The fist day of the season was clear and calm - not perfect weather for open water mallards, but Rob and I had a good spread out, and called hard. We ended up with a good bag of Mallard and Paradise duck. Not a bad performance by Rob and I, and the over fifty year old Browning A5!

The following day was much better, with wind and rain, which made the Mallards trade more. We got a great mixed bag that second day, with 20 Mallard, some more Parries, and a brace of hard won Canada Goose.

It was eventually time to retire the old girl, so I took the A5, dads old cork decoys that I "touched up" and the V decoy spread he used so well.

This was the last pair of mallards it shot.

After serving three generations of my family, along with others in it's travels, it has been retired from service.

My father and grandfather are both shooting the big duck pond in the sky now, but when it's my time, I'll try to slip the A5 in past security and join them.

Beautifully Ordinary

The perfectly timed Photo

When people think "perfectly timed photo" they think of wing cupped honkers captured with their paddles down, or the cartridge ejecting out of the breach, and a crumpled bird in the background.

While I agree that these are photos many of us love to capture, to me, the perfectly timed photo is of that magic moment, that you can't plan for. You can't set a time or a place to it, you cant pose, waiting for the opportunity. It happens when it happens. Its that special moment when you realise you have packed up too early!


Sometimes, you get a warning sign. The birds might arrive when you are just laying out your bag for the photo. But that's often harder to deal with. You may have waited for hours, seen nothing, now just when home, food and sleep are in sight, a mob turns up to tease you! Do you stay, or go?

First thing to take into account, is the weather. Trying to get the tri-pod to stay still in a howling wind and trying, and often failing at keeping rain off the lens - all of these are obstacles that have to be overcome, before the opportunity has even presented itself.

Next comes setting the timer. Is it 6 seconds, or 12 seconds? Again, you don't know. How do you set a timer for a photo opportunity, that you don't know is going to happen?! The difficulties in capturing yourself in a moment of hunting infamy are numerous! Then you need to sprint back to your bag of the day, only for.....it to happen..at that split second the camera goes "snap".

You hear that unmistakable sound that you'd recognise anywhere....
With a quack, quack here and a honk honk there, all of Old Macdonald's birds turn up, when you think you are done for the day - after waiting hours, and seeing no birds, anywhere at all.
Hunters react in different ways to this. Some hang their heads in despair, others look towards the source of their anguish, while some, are prepared for just this eventuality, and when its safe and practical to do so, they keep a cartridge in their pocket, and maybe get their own, unique "taking a bird, while taking photos of other birds", perfectly timed photo!

The Reliable Duck - the Paradise Shelduck

Coming from New Zealand, I have had a lot of requests for information on our Native Paradise Shelduck, and with their unique and beautiful colouring, they are often a prized trophy by International hunters. Here is an article I penned for NZ Rod and Rifle Magazine, that should offer some insight to this wonderful bird, and how to hunt them in the amazing hunting paradise, that is New Zealand.

Please click HERE for the full article

"How to" hunt open water Mallard's

New Zealand is my home, but its also home to some of the best open water mallard shooting in the World. This is Lake Ellesmere (Te Waihoa), and it's where I learnt the art of Water fowling. It's beautiful on a sunny day....but hunts best in a cold Southerly, rain and hail!

Why do I love it so much?

Unlike other form of Duck hunting, you are not simply waiting for the birds to return home to a roost site, or to a feeding ground. You are hunting birds that have been literally blown off the water due to the weather. So what works for me?

• I try to pick a location that's both visible to passing ducks, but sheltered. I find sheltered bays, or areas in behind sand bars and islands work best, but also flooded areas on the fringes of the downwind end of the water body can produce good shoots
• Having the right equipment is also a huge plus. Hunting the fringes and flooded areas requires you to be mobile - a layout blind works best here.  
• The right amount of decoys, is also needed, just to make your spread visible to the passing ducks, so motion decoys can also be a bonus - but don't rely on them as late season birds may flare off them. 
• Don't set decoys too far downwind. These ducks are tired, and often they will drop down the first chance they get. I make sure all my decoys are within range when hunting big water for mallards.
• Calling is still important, and a powerful call is best suited to cut through the wind, while something softer is best in finishing them into the decoys.
• Concealement is a huge factor. On these dark days, your face and hands stick out from a long way out, make sure to cover up
• Ammunition and choke selection is also critical. Remember that your pattern will be blown around in the wind, and you may have to take pass shots at bird that don't fully commit (if you want too). A mid-extended range choke, and a heavier than average cartridge are a help, and I've found 3 inch, 36gr #2 works best for me. 

You don't need all of these elements to bag a duck or two, but in my experience, they sure do help, and they work for me!

Lake Ellesmere - Its scenic in the sunshine, but if you ask me, it looks best covered in cloud and rain!

Can you share your little piece of Paradise?

The reality is, that doing what I do is not cheap. After selling the house back home, I've financially committed to this cause of mine.

I simply do not have the money to both travel the world, and pay for hunting while I do it. So rather than put all my eggs in one basket, and flown to Canada, the USA or UK for 2 months of paid, guided hunting, instead, I'm bouncing around the globe, hoping to meet like minded people who might share an opportunity with me, so I can experience "real" hunting and fishing from other hunters perspective, not just those on organised guided hunts, from around the world.

 Back home, I take out dozens of new hunters every year, from all over the world. I enjoy seeing people get into the sport, and I hope others around the world have the same attitude.

I also hope to meet other hunters on my travels, who may want to visit the Paradise of New Zealand, so I can show them what opportunities are back in my home country.

As someone who is as happy behind the trigger as the camera, or even if its just to observe, any opportunities that are available, anywhere in the world, id love to hear from you!

Currently I'm in the UK, but I am heading to the USA and Canada in 2016!

Can you help share your little piece of Paradise?

Hot Barrels

Last pull of the trigger

My last hunt at the great lake wasn't my best, and it certainly wasn't my worst.

It was one of those days when the wind didn't blow and when it did, it came from an unexpected, and unpredicted direction. Our layout blinds kept getting flooded, and the birds were always just that little bit to far out.

In saying that, all was most certainly not lost. Carl, Paul, Rich and I did all we could to make the day work in our favour.

We called hard, changed what we could, and spent the hours that we needed to, to get a result. Not because it was my last shoot, but because that's just what we always do.

It was a true mixed bag day with us taking Mallard, Shoveler, Canada Goose and Shelduck. Managing to get a bag of almost all of New Zealand's waterfowl game birds on my last hunt with the boys - what could be better than that?

When will I get out hunting again? Who knows. But I am looking forward to the adventures, hunting or otherwise, that this trip will bring, and the experiences that Bailie and I will share, in our own search, for paradise.

First a drought, then too much Rain!

Having drought conditions for much of the summer left many of our normal likely spots none dry. We were lucky that our opening morning pond had any water in it what so ever.

Keeping this in mind, and with the end of my time in New Zealand in sight, I thought I would head to the mighty braided river of Rakaia, and see if I could find any duck camps to decoy the following day, and Rich came along for the ride.

After spending a good day on the river, a very likely spot was found, holding great numbers of birds, but what do you know? Rain in the high country caused the rivers to climb. After almost drowning the year before in the same river, this time we made the hard, but wise call, to leave them alone.

A pair of Cape Baron Geese

The day wasn't totally lost, however when I saw my first Cape Baron Geese, since I shot my first and only one a few years earlier.

We were gutted, but in the end, that's hunting. We maybe could have got to the camp by raft, or maybe, this time one of us might have drowned in the swift waters of the Rakaia River

As fun and exciting as hunting is, its not worth your life, even if your life is hunting.

Part of the Duck camp and roosting site that we just couldn't safely get to.

Sunday School

The Sunday of opening weekend is ALWAYS a big day.

Not necessarily in numbers of birds shot, but combined with little sleep over the last few days, the shooting the day before, then the big clean up job, its always a long day, either way.

While we had an exceptional Saturday, that in itself went against the grain, based on the numbers of birds we had seen in the area, so we were a little unsure of what to expect.

All in all, we got a good flow of birds through in the first hours after dawn, adding to the great bag from the day before.

We pulled the pin early on Sunday to give us enough time to clean and process ALL of the birds. For a lot of the guys with us over the two days, they work on farms and simply don't have the luxury of hunting all the time, and this is their one day a year to fill the freezer.

Even though we shot a staggering amount birds, only a few of us limited out over the two days. It was a mammoth plucking and breasting session, but its all worth it in the end, and what an opening weekend to remember!

Paul, Terry, Richard and Myself with the combined bag, from all guns, over two days of hunting, along with the ducks, breasted and plucked out, ready for the freezer, or the sausage maker!

The Day of Days.

I cant tell you either how annoying my alarm was, or what the tone sounded like on opening morning, as, like all the years before it, I was awake well before it went off.

After checking my watch every five seconds, telling myself it would make time go faster, at the requiquired time, I stood up and flicked on the lounge light in Matts house. Just like everywhere, his house becomes our house over weekend. With three young children, and a VERY understanding wife, it really is a home away from home.

We had a quick brekefast, knowing that we had all the ofortts of home in the hides. We shoot the same place everyyear, so chairs, tables, bbqs and gas cookers are all ready down there waiting for us. I do a lot of hard yards hunting, wading through chest deep water for god knows how long, slogging it out through mud, and getting drenched laying in sodden fields...this hunt is not one of them, and its nice to start the year with a comfortable hunt, with some good mates to celebrate the new season.

6:45am, and the shooting can legally start. At 6:45am + one second, we were into it.

There had been about 100 birds living on what remained of the pond, so we new they would be coming in right on day light. We were on the board nice and early, and some good shooting durring the first hour. Terry took to it like a duck to water. It wasnt long before he was doing everything by instinct, and he had bagged himself a few birds durring the first part of the morning.

Where the day changed however, was that we then had excellent shooting over the next three hours.

All those birds that had left as the water dropped, came back. And they brought their friends. As other ponds and paddocks were shot up, these birds took to the skys. Whether ot was because they had lived here happily earlier in the year, or because we still had some water, if they saw the pond, or heard our callers, more often than not, they came in. We shoot with a large crew of guys on opening morning, and its over to me to do the majority of the calling, but also to ''call the shot''. It is a daunting task, knowing that of you call it to early or two late, birds may get through, or some guys might miss out on a perfect shot. Its task that I love!

All in all, we had one or two mishaps where the guns were a bit quick before the call, but generally it worked really well.

We had set the decoys for the Paradise shelducks up on the mud, and they were decoying really well up onto the mud flats, but try as we might, we knew it was going to be a wasted effort to get the mallards to commit off the water, which in some places was near on 70 meters from the hides, with the far bank well over 100 meters away.

So with this in mind, and after a few parries had started landing in the middle of the pond, escaping when we shot others that decoyed, I headed round to the far corner, out of the line of shooting from the hides, in the hopes of bagging some mallards and any parries that may have escaped the main set of hides.

It couldn't have worked out any better.

I ended up getting some great Mallard shooting, calling in singles, pairs and the odd bigger group. I do this every year, as while its nice shooting in a big group, I love it when I get to target mallards by my own. I know what I hit, and what I miss - which can be embarrassing as EVERYONE is watching! I had a few other guys join me throughout the morning, and that allowed us to take areal toll on the escaping parries, then once things quietened off, we headed back round to have lunch with the boys. We hunted all day Saturday, then settled in for a whiskey to celebrate the day, catch up with the other boys around the country, then turn in, ready to do it all again tomorrow!

them half of Sunday, with Paul joining us late in the piece.

The night before Christmas...

Its hard to explain what the Duck season means to me. In short, where others may describe something great in their lives as being ''like Christmas'', I would say something different.

Keeping all that in mind, it was very hard for me to accept that in just over a week, now that the season had finally arrived, I would be leaving New Zealand. With this mind, I packed up the 4WD with as much gear as I could fit in it, picked up Rich, and away we went!

Was I any less excited?

Of course not!

Packing the 4WD ready for a big opening weekend!

This years season was not shaping up well. A massive draught had drained a lot of not just my ponds, but everyone's. Our traditional opening morning pond, while having water, was very low. So low, that the hides were 50-60 meters from the waters edge.

There had been a good number of ducks around earlier in the year, but as the pond lost more water, it lost more ducks. Matt, who owns the farm the pond is on, and a good friend of mine, wasn't expecting great results, but as always, we would do our best.

Scott, another local landowner, friend and co-shooter, Matt and I had a brief chat beforehand. We all agreed that while the pond was low, it wasn't dry like so many other ponds in the region. We also knew that a good number of birds had called it home over the year to date. We decided that once the shooting started, and birds started being disturbed, maybe, just maybe, we would get lucky, and have some of our once resident birds, return home.

Duff with his make up on

Joining us for the hunt in our two hides, were Paul,  Bailie's dad - Terry (Duff), and Richard. Being that Bailie's old man had essentially been living with four woman for quite some time, and that I was about to head overseas, I thought it was time for Duff to join us on a lads weekend. He had some experience with firearms, but hadn't hunted duck before, so we all hoped he would enjoy the experience. I heard from Bailie that he was excited, but when she sent me a photo of him "practicing" to put on camo paint, I knew he would blend right in with us!


Rich on the other hand had hunted with me for years, since we first worked together while at university, for the New Zealand franchise store of Cabellas. Since then, no matter where he or I lived, we always found someway to meet up for a hunt or a fish.

A big crew of locals and other landowners made up the rest of the hides, many of whom had been shooting the area for years. Story's flowed the night before, some of which may have been true, before we tried to sleep, in preparation for what some people may say, was ''just like Christmas morning''.

Paradise of Duck's

Plans were made, the truck was loaded, and next stop was to pick up James from Christchurch Airport. We then headed to the farm, and started scouting the crop fields for duck sign, and that, along with talking to the farmer, helped piece together where the ducks had been feeding. We set up in a likely spot in a barley field that afternoon. 

With the sweltering Canterbury sun making the barley shimmer with anticipation of catching on fire, we were closed up in our blinds, sweat pouring into our eyes, clothes sticking to our body's, waiting for the distinctive native Paradise Shelduck, to tell us the hunt was on. There was nowhere else we wanted to be.

The heat of the sun was soon replaced by the heat from our barrels, as Carl and I called the "parries" into our decoy spread, trying to take photos, call and shoot at the same time! It was great to be out there with my friends, soaking it up, heat and all.
We didn't limit out, and it wasn't our goal to do so. We missed some we shouldn't have, and dropped some, that we fluked. All in all, it was just what you would expect from any duck hunt!

The season, had started.

Carl, Paul, James and I, with a good bag of Native NZ Paradise Shelducks