While the rest of you were at that crappy movie, the Rodfather returned from India and within hours had bought his duck stamp and a box of number 3 steel shot. Jet-lagged and still talking about a holy man he met on his Himalayan adventure, Bill killed five greenheads with three shots. He's going to curry his. The migration is in full effect. If you like duck meat, you need to get out there. I'm ready to clean my guns and call an end to the season. It's been one to remember.
Rocket and I finally got into some ducks. I thought they'd never come. But the migration is here. It's not as ridiculous as it was last year, but it's here and we did well. I check the Ducks Unlimited maps daily to see what the other hunters are saying. The Montana guys say it's great up there and new birds are arriving everyday. The ducks really decoyed today. I had several land in the decoys. I ended up with a gadwall in the mix too.The rest were mallards. Rocket made two ice retrieves, going out onto a half-frozen pond. My dog on the ice makes me nervous. I wonder what other duck hunters say about this.
People ask me: "Dave, what do you do with all of those cocks you shoot?" Well, I give some to Bill Mixer, some to Jason Veggie-Burger. But the rest I eat. I like to cook them without ever freezing them. Pheasant piccata is easy to make. You need butter, white wine, capers, and lemon for the sauce. Pound the pheasant out into thin cutlets, then fry in bread crumbs. I put the whole dish over stuffing and baked it for 30 minutes in the oven. Cover it to keep it moist. Don't disappoint me. Don't screw this up.
Rocket does fine in grassy plains, but Glendo, with its willows and buckbrush scars him and beats him up. There's nothing like a willow branch slapping your face to remind you of your place in the world. After a few pheasant outings to Glendo, Rocket is slide-lined with cuts and scrapes. His eyes seem to get the worst of it. He runs too fast through the brush. He seems happy when we're out there. But when we get home I can see it's rough for him. His tail is bald from slapping the willows. I'm going to let him sit around the house for a week before we go again.