Hat Hunter - The little hat that could

Carl, Paul, James and I after a great evening on Paradise Shelduck

James 'Monster' Pettley was first introduced to me via a hunting forum in New Zealand. He commented on a few of my posts and pictures, and we kept in contact for 12 months. It wasn't till he briefly moved down to the South Island and came came into the gun shop I worked at, did he introduce himself in person.
James asked if he could accompany me on my next hunt as a photographer, as he didn't want to invite himself as a shooter. I advised him to pack anything that could shoot - gun or camera and he was welcome to join me anytime and the rest, as they say is history.

James has a signature hat that he had been given by an Australian hunter and it went everywhere with him. At least it did until one day he left it behind. Knowing he wasn't going to be doing any hunting for a while, as he had a few months of work on, I thought the least I could do was take his hat on a few adventures and send him the photos - I thought he would love to see all the hunting his hat was doing while he was stuck on the Dairy farm! It was eventually returned to him, all be it with a bit more experience, before the Duck Season.

We had a great time with the Hat. It was always on time, I didn't have to feed it, I didn't have to keep picking it up from the airport, and it was very bright. All in all, it was a great substitute for James!

On a hunting trip not so long ago, a man travelled South to give it a go.

He stopped for a roast and missed his plane, begging jetstar - it was all in vain.

He travels the world, far and wide, shooting birds below, above and from the side.

The trip was grand and full of fun, but the way James shot, he needed a bofors gun.

The birds are history and the sun gone down, the hunt is over, save cleaning the gun

For James this started the depression, and then, he realised he'd left behind his most prized possession

His hat was alone, left in the blind, but we picked it up - you don't leave a man behind

Where it takes us and what it sees, will be noted here, for us all to see

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

Every new biginning is some other beginnings end....

Lake Ellesemere, or Te Waihora as it is known in Maori, is where I began my hunting and fishing life.

At the lake and its tributaries, I shot my first duck and my first goose, speared my first flounder and caught  my first trout, so it was only fitting that my last hunt before leaving New Zealand, was where it all began.

Paul, Richard and I headed out to my cousin, Haydon's place for two days. To say it is a duck hunters Paradise would be fitting. I've been lucky enough to hunt there all my life, through 4 different farm owners, as my cousin recently (in farming years) acquired the place - lucky right?! My Grandfather even worked on the farm many moons ago,

The place is great to visit, not just to have a crack at some open water hunting, but also for the history that the duck hut (now aptly called "the ducks deluxe") holds, not just for my family, but for many others. The hunter diary caries entry's dating back over 50 years - it is where for many hunters, they had their first, and their last hunts. It is a very special place.

The weather forecast for the following day wasn't perfect, but with my flight out to India in just a few days, we certainly weren't waiting fr it to get better. We would just do what all duck hunters do, put tne effort in, and hope for the best.

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

The Value of scouting.

I love February

It's my birthday month, which now that I'm turning 30, actually means I hate that aspect of it, but what I really love about it is that it's time to oil the Beretta, get the decoys out of the container, grass the layout blind, and hit the game birds!

This years first hunt turned out to be an absolute cracker. Luckily, Paul and I had been keeping an eye on some fields that had produced great numbers of geese for us in the past, and sure enough, things were looking good again this year. Large numbers of honkers were present, all feeding happily and being right at the start of the season, the juvenile birds were as silly as they were going to get. The farmer was more than happy for us to have a crack and he agreed to leave them undisturbed prior to our hunt. The last thing a good goose hunt needs is weary birds that have been shot at, chased by cars and dogs, or otherwise disturbed prior to the hunt.

Relentless scouting for birds pre-season is worth every second

Looking at the forecast, we picked a day that would give us the best chance at success, with a stiff wind forecast, then started the waiting game - would the geese still be there when the weather came good? Its the goose hunters dilemma, but after years hunting them its always a risk worth taking.

I jumped on the phone to James, a great mate of mine who lives in the North Island. He knows there is only one reason I would be calling him at this time of year - those magic words "I've got a few days hunting coming up, are you in?". He was on a plane 3 hours later.

Just after getting off the phone to James, Carl called. He had been keeping an eye on another of my property's, and he had seen enough that morning, to warrant giving the farmer a call. Access Granted.
No one was happier that James had booked an early flight, than James, as while the weather that day wasn't great for geese, it was perfect for the ducks!

Carl, Paul and I spend the next few hours shuffling decoys and gear around Canterbury, as it was going to be impossible to move all the gear needed for two hunts, against two different species of birds, in two locations, over two days, all at once. Goose decoys were taken by the trailer load down to the fields in preparation for the day after, then it was off to the airport to pick up James.

Reconnaissance, was now turning to hunting.

Unusually for ducks, the female paradise shelduck (Native to New Zealand) is more eye-catching than the male; females have a pure white head and chestnut-coloured body, while males have a dark grey body and black head.