h20fowler
05-19-2006, 09:09 AM
Great article in this last issue of Wildfowl (June/July, 2006). Alan Liere writes the "Letters From Loon Lake" every month. This month he discusses the "party theory" that I have shared with many first year hunters. But in my opinion, he took it a step further then I ever have. If this is viewed as spam, my intent was not that, so please delete if necessary
Liere writes:
"We had shot a few birds but messed up on a lot more, when the "party" thought settled in. The birds seemed to be done flying for the morning, and lacking more stimulating contemplations from my soggy, irritable companions, I concentrated on my own, sometimes disjointed thoughts. Which were:
Every party has its invited guests. In the waterfowl world, these are the birds you located, set up for, and know will show. They arrive just about when you thought they would and you are prepared for them. As with most parties, however, there are also those that come crashing through the back door. You are not able to greet them properly, don't know where they came from and are totally flustered by their presence.
Sometimes guests at a party are quiet; sometimes they make a lot of racket. Geese are the same. They will talk to you if they are really lonely, but sometimes they take comfort in the crowd and will listen from a distance to what you have to say. If they like it, they will come over, but if they don't, they'll go to the party next door. Some of them even go home. The majority will stay in their comfort zone and go with the flow.
Specks are the life of the party; they come dipping and diving in, murmuring happily. They sometimes appear to be drunk. A group of specklebellies will liven the place up in short order, but you can't count on them to settle. They are always looking for a better party, a "more happinin" place. If they have a hankering for barley and you're serving peas, they're likely to make a quick exit. I know people who will do the same thing if they've got their hearts set on a barley derivative and I'm serving fruit punch.
Canada geese are more reserved when they make their appearance - the older crows. They usually arrive at a respectable hour. Sometimes they are fashionably late. They are more predictable than the specks, a little slower, too. Canada's shy away from the noise makers. If there are already specks or snows in the field, Canada's will go off by themselves and break into small groups. They get right down to business in the buffet line.
Snow geese are the under-aged partiers. They are noisy, flighty, flying high - more show than go. They come in big groups, and like the Canada's, are reluctant to mingle with the other guests. Sometimes, the real young ones will join the party, but most have seen it all before; they prefer to move on and start a party of their own several miles away. Snow geese are often the ones who promise to come but never show. You remember last year, don't you, when we set up in a field that held 5,000 snows the evening before, and not a one came back?
There are inevitably a few tail-enders at every party. Some come to late, the party is effectively over. At a waterfowl party, this is when you have finally decided to go home. You are picking up blinds, stacking decoys and putting things away. You hear something, look up, and there they are, practically in your kitchen. You scramble to accommodate them, but nothing is right.
When this happens, you feel you have failed as a host/guide. There were some good lookers in that last crowd, and you let your buddies down by closing up early. Still, there is optimism. Perhaps the next party will be perfect.
I hope you're with us when it is"
Here is to you and all you parties! Almost time to start preparing those invitations!
Liere writes:
"We had shot a few birds but messed up on a lot more, when the "party" thought settled in. The birds seemed to be done flying for the morning, and lacking more stimulating contemplations from my soggy, irritable companions, I concentrated on my own, sometimes disjointed thoughts. Which were:
Every party has its invited guests. In the waterfowl world, these are the birds you located, set up for, and know will show. They arrive just about when you thought they would and you are prepared for them. As with most parties, however, there are also those that come crashing through the back door. You are not able to greet them properly, don't know where they came from and are totally flustered by their presence.
Sometimes guests at a party are quiet; sometimes they make a lot of racket. Geese are the same. They will talk to you if they are really lonely, but sometimes they take comfort in the crowd and will listen from a distance to what you have to say. If they like it, they will come over, but if they don't, they'll go to the party next door. Some of them even go home. The majority will stay in their comfort zone and go with the flow.
Specks are the life of the party; they come dipping and diving in, murmuring happily. They sometimes appear to be drunk. A group of specklebellies will liven the place up in short order, but you can't count on them to settle. They are always looking for a better party, a "more happinin" place. If they have a hankering for barley and you're serving peas, they're likely to make a quick exit. I know people who will do the same thing if they've got their hearts set on a barley derivative and I'm serving fruit punch.
Canada geese are more reserved when they make their appearance - the older crows. They usually arrive at a respectable hour. Sometimes they are fashionably late. They are more predictable than the specks, a little slower, too. Canada's shy away from the noise makers. If there are already specks or snows in the field, Canada's will go off by themselves and break into small groups. They get right down to business in the buffet line.
Snow geese are the under-aged partiers. They are noisy, flighty, flying high - more show than go. They come in big groups, and like the Canada's, are reluctant to mingle with the other guests. Sometimes, the real young ones will join the party, but most have seen it all before; they prefer to move on and start a party of their own several miles away. Snow geese are often the ones who promise to come but never show. You remember last year, don't you, when we set up in a field that held 5,000 snows the evening before, and not a one came back?
There are inevitably a few tail-enders at every party. Some come to late, the party is effectively over. At a waterfowl party, this is when you have finally decided to go home. You are picking up blinds, stacking decoys and putting things away. You hear something, look up, and there they are, practically in your kitchen. You scramble to accommodate them, but nothing is right.
When this happens, you feel you have failed as a host/guide. There were some good lookers in that last crowd, and you let your buddies down by closing up early. Still, there is optimism. Perhaps the next party will be perfect.
I hope you're with us when it is"
Here is to you and all you parties! Almost time to start preparing those invitations!