A Brief Change in Scenery: Casting Out a Line in Saint Bernard

Flashback: November 9, 2013

Louisiana is known as the, “Sportsman’s Paradise” and this label couldn't be more spot-on.  This great state has everything the avid sportsman dreams about, all nestled in 51,843 square miles of diverse wilderness.  Deer, duck, fish, turkey, dove, coyote, alligator, hog… You name it, we got it.  If you ever want to experience the full spectrum of game and fish sport, look no further than the Pelican State. 

Told ya. 

On this particular day, my mindset shifted from chasing them orange feet in the marshes of southwest Louisiana to the beautiful, brackish waters Saint Bernard Parish.  Like its hunting counterpart, on the opposite side of the state, Saint Bernard offers world class fishing to those who throw a line into its waters. 

Just some point of reference.

But you'll never find my honey hole. 

On a frigid November morning, once again accompanied by my wonderful girlfriend, myself and two of my closest fraternity brothers pushed off with a boat full of tackle and Miller Lite, eager to catch as many fish as humanly possible. We set out across the waters of Lake Pontchartrain running along the inlets of the Bayou Sauvage National Wildlife Refuge.

The Laziest Catch crew. 

Equipment Check:

-          Tackle: Live bait (gulf shrimp and storm minnows)

-          Line Test: 12 lbs

-          Gear: Shakespeare Ugly Stik GX2 Open Face and Shimano Open Face/Bait caster

-          Rig: Carolina

-          Brew: Miller Lite

We made our first stop at a point in a waterway immediately off the main shoreline of the lake.  We fished for 30 minutes to no avail.  Our problems were probably caused by the heavy boat traffic of duck hunters moving from blind to blind in our general vicinity.  By the short interval between their shot volleys it was pretty evident their day was starting off better than ours.  We packed up and headed to a new spot. 

Thanks for the wakes, Elmer Fudds.

Our second stop brought us about two miles east of our previous location, even deeper into the labyrinth of waterways.  We anchored on a shoreline adjacent to the intersection of two currents running perpendicular to each other.  The spot looked promising and I had a great feeling about it. If you can find a spot similar to this one, be patient and do not move.  Give it some time.  Fish love when two different currents come together at a point.  The intersection provides the perfect break in current velocity and they don't have to expend energy on drifting.  Coupled with this is the fact that food is literally brought to them on two sides conveyor belt style. The stored energy and proverbial buffet kick up their aggression and makes for a surefire catch environment. 

Current moving in from the left.

Current moving in from the right, and their meeting point.

I grabbed my rod, slapped a live shrimp on the hook and threw my line out 25 yards from the starboard side.  The second my line hit the water I got a bite.  I reeled in a beautiful 15 inch trout that exceeded the 12 inch state requirement to keep the fish.  After that catch, it was game on.  We were pulling in fish from all sides! It was unbelievable.  Over the next 2 hours we landed 23 trout, 3 flounder and 2 red fish.  The sight and experience was one for the ages.

My first prize of the day.

And hers. 

Asserting dominance. 

We started filling up pretty quickly. 

Eventually, as if someone had flipped a switch, the action ceased.  We packed up and headed due east towards a honey hole on Lake St. Catherine.  At this point, the day was coming to an end and we were catching more snags than fish, as we were fishing off a rocky point.  When we were just about ready to pack it in and call it a day, myself and a fraternity brother hooked big fish at the exact same time.  We both landed some beautiful red fish.  There was no way we were leaving now.  We each pulled in a few more reds, while Denise, my girlfriend, was sitting down trying to shake of sun burn and fatigue. However, she caught a second wind, grabbed her rod and threw out a line.  A minute later she got a huge hit, and that line ran like no other.  She freaked out and we talked her through the fight and got her back in the zone.  Slow and steady always wins the race and sure enough, she brought a monster red up to the side of the boat, grabbed the net and hauled that sucker in.  The look on her face was priceless.  She, including everyone else, will never forget that day.

My red...

And hers.

It’s always nice to get a change of scenery as a sportsman, and when you live in Louisiana the transition is incredibly easy.  For those hunters out there who find themselves wrapped up in the motions of day to day hunting, I highly recommend you set down the rifle, grab a rod and your closest friends and hit the water.  The change of pace is truly liberating.  Enjoy the pictures, y'all. Until next time, good hunting… or fishing!

Great view from the bow.

My backhand technique could use some work.

Just taking it all in.

What's a trip without selfies?

We're kind of a big deal.

Moving between spots was a bit of a struggle.

Jordan Lieberman (left) myself and Marcus Davis (right). My Sammy fraternity brothers.

Laying out the spread later that night.

Filleting them took forever. Better than watching an LSU blowout at the hands of Alabama, though.

I think we found where all of our live bait was going. 

West Bound and Down: A Snap Hunting Trip to Lake Arthur, LA

Flashback: November 12, 2013

I feel like these spur of the moment hunting trips have kind of become my thing in the Deep South.  I really don’t have much of a choice though.  You see, trying to coordinate or hop on a hunt is out of my control in this neck of the woods.  I have family in Louisiana, but they do not own or lease property in this great state that I can hunt on.  That being said, my opportunities to hunt arise when one of my friends has an open spot in one of their blinds.  Fortunately, I have good friends who love to have me on-board. 

This trip came about late one evening in early November.  Around 12 AM I received a call from a close friend (we’ll call him Frank) asking if I, "would be down” for a hunt the following morning.  I, of course, jumped on the opportunity and said yes.  This particular individual hunts in Lake Arthur, LA, a small community 45 miles east of Lake Charles.  This region of southwest Louisiana is considered by many the waterfowl hunting capitol of the world.  Hunters in this area harvest hundreds of thousands of ducks every year as they make their way from Canada and the Mid-West United States to warmer waters along the Gulf Coast and Mexico.  I would be insane to pass up an opportunity as perfect as this one.

The graphs don't lie. 

Deep in the heart of Cajun country.          

In order to make it from Baton Rouge to Lake Arthur on-time, our hunting party set its departure time for 3:40 AM.  Sleep at this point was pointless, I would be more fatigued and more unfit to operate a semi-automatic firearm in close quarters, and I had slept most of the day anyway.  My excitement level was through the roof when my friend picked me up and we made our way west on I-10.  Accompanying me and Frank on this trip was his dog, Beaux, and a mutual friend I will dub, Steve. 

A man's best friend.

As we approached the hunting grounds, Frank informed the party we would need to be ready to step off within a minute of parking the truck to make it to our blind on time.  When he parked the truck I jumped out, grabbed my bag and our shotguns from the back, and hopped on the ATV he offloaded from the bed of his truck.  Frank turned the ATV over, let out a sharp, “GO!” to his dog, and we tore down a dirt road to a rice field adjacent where we parked.  About 50 yards away from the blind Frank cut the ATV and we drudged through shin-deep water to our destination.  We arrived, jumped in the blind, situated our camo, loaded our weapons, and turned to the sky in anticipation of our soon-to-arrive prey.  Within five minutes of our arrival, Steve pointed out a duck that had just landed on the water next to a decoy and opened fire.  BOOM! The first kill of the day was in the bag. 

Early hunter gets the duck.

Beaux retrieved the duck and we were in business.  For the next 20 minutes the kill zone was eerily still.  While we waited I fished my camo face paint out of my bag and applied it to my face.  Sidebar: The paint provides great camouflage and is essential to maintaining low visibility during the hunt.  When the sun comes up, my uncovered, Caucasian skin would be a dead giveaway to any duck flying overhead.  When they see a solid reflective surface, that contradicts the pattern of the foliage below, their instincts immediately raise a red flag.  I was not willing to ruin any opportunity that came our way. 

Face paint from a Northern VA deer hunt, but y'all get the point. 

Over the next 30 minutes we established shooting lanes and areas to monitor to minimize the risk of missing approaching ducks.  Teamwork is crucial to a successful hunt, especially in this aspect.  Ducks move fast and in the words of Ferris Bueller, “If you don’t stop and look around every once in a while, you just might miss it.” For the next three and a half hours we had scores of ducks fly in, but every group seemed to be just out of range for our shotguns. Our hunting party opened fire at every opportunity presented to us, but our attempts were mostly in vain. However, we scored a few victories here and there, but by the end of the day we left with only 3 ducks. 

Just out of range.

It became pretty aggravating. 

This was just a smack in the face.

Didn't leave empty handed!

It was a little discouraging to leave with only a few ducks in-hand, but like I’ve said before, I will jump at any opportunity to get out in the field and broaden my horizons.  Every trip is another invaluable experience to educate myself and sharpen my mind.  Even though the bag wasn’t as full as we hoped it would be, I personally left the hunt satisfied.  I have never seen the sheer volume of waterfowl moving in an area like I did that morning.  We saw hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of ducks.  Everywhere!  Ducks freakin’ everywhere!  It was humbling to see Mother Nature in her finest hour, moving organisms through an unfamiliar environment. 

That hunt was my first and last of the season, but I couldn’t have asked for more.  It was a great close to my waterfowl hunting this season in Louisiana.  Not only did it provide a great experience, but it pumped me up for my return to the Shenandoah Valley where I can hunt as much as I want.  If anything the hunt was motivation to focus on my studies in wildlife conservation, so one day I can spend as many mornings as I want on the marsh.  

Enjoy a few more pictures, and until next time... good hunting.  

The kill zone. 

Laying in wait...

My backseat buddy for the day. 

He wasn't very talkative. 

My Brother Across the Border: A Texas Dove Hunting Excursion

Flashback: October 21/22 2013

Punching that accelerator down, all the way down, due west on I-10. The reason I loaded up and rolled out of Baton Rouge really wasn’t under the best circumstances. However, I wouldn’t miss this opportunity to for the world. 

Almost two years ago my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer.  Since then she has been spending weeks of her life with her sisters in Houston while receiving treatment at one of the world’s best hospitals- the University of Texas’ MD Anderson Cancer Treatment Center, a truly remarkable place.  My mom was visiting for a routine checkup (she had a tumor removed off of her bronchial tube about a year ago) and I decided, against her will, I was going to be by her side while she went through the throws.  I surprised her, and for the first time in a very long time, all was right in my world.  To couple this joyous occasion, I had the wonderful opportunity to go dove hunting with my favorite cousin, Dusty. 

Did I mention my girlfriend tagged along?

Dusty is 33 years old and has been a huge influence on my life.  Not only are we identical physically, we also think the exact same way.  It’s pretty weird.  But I digress.  Dusty invited me to join him on his company’s hunting lease for an afternoon and morning of dove hunting.  Before I continue I just have to say some of the wordage and images in the following are graphic.  With that, I’ll continue. 

I’ve never been dove hunting before.  I was too young to engage in the southeast Texas right-of-passage before moving out of the state. Upon arrival in Houston, I headed over to the local Wal-Mart and purchased a non-resident, 5 day hunting license. I was able to purchase this license because I have taken a hunter's education course back in Virginia and the certification also permits me to hunt in the other 50 United States. With that, we were ready to rock.

 After a drive from suburban Houston, we arrived in Katy, TX, about 20 miles north of the city.  We parked the truck, grabbed our bags, and began walking up a dirt road towards a pond at the intersection of two pastures full of cattle. It was at this intersection we set up two MOJO decoys.  These decoys are life size decoys that have a battery operated motor that flaps wings to attract birds flying over.  The decoys bring birds into shotgun range and give hunters the opportunity to harvest the birds.  I’ve duck hunted with these decoys before and I cannot sing their praise enough.  They’re cheap, easy to maintain, and will bring scores of birds into the kill zone.  BUY THEM. 

The best 20 bucks any hunter will ever spend. 

 After 30 minutes we had our first groups come in and we opened fire.  Three birds down.  From there on out we walked pasture to pasture attempting to spook birds.  Our attempts were unsuccessful but we were far from discouraged.  

On the hunt.

The next morning the story was same. Drive in, walk up, set up the MOJOs, let things settle in and open fire.  We walked field to field and shot a few more birds, but during hour 2 I experienced something like never before.  While walking up on a bush about chest height, I had a dove fly out approximately 6 feet off the ground.  I raised my Remington Express 870 to my shoulder, and pulled the trigger.  The BBs grazed the dove and it fell into a shrub a few feet away.  When I walked up I discovered the bird nesting after being wounded, but not fatally.  Dusty then told me in order to kill the dove we needed to decapitate it.  He reassured me it would be extremely easy.  Dusty held the bird; I put a firm grip on its head and pulled.  The head came off extremely easy and that was that. 

There's always a time to try new things. 

It may sound gruesome, but if there is one thing that hunters know, it is this- at some point, a hunter will wound an animal and to properly and humanely end its life, they’ll have to get hands-on.  In this case, the statement was literal.  We concluded the morning hunt with 4 more dove in the bag and made our way back to Houston. 

Any hunt I participate in, I use as a learning experience.  Even if I leave empty handed, I’m always collecting and analyzing data, as well as experience, ultimately refining my technique, with hopes that it will one day assist me in my future career as a wildlife law enforcement agent.  These hunts were no exception. Enjoy the rest of the pictures and videos. More to come here folks, until then, good hunting. 

This video shows Dusty and I returning to our MOJO decoys after hunting in the adjacent pasture.  When walking up we saw a dove land next to the decoy. We approached the dove, maintaining a 25-30 yard parallel interval knowing it would fly into one of our target pictures.  Unfortunately, Dusty had the drop on this guy.  

Making our way through some wet terrain, approaching a levee.

Walking hunt through Texas wildflowers.

Beautiful southeast Texas sunset with my apprentice. 

Cut her some slack, it was a pretty chili morning. What a trooper.