Safety Blankets and Choke Tubes

Last weekend I found myself waist deep in a marsh more fantastic than real. It may have been the fact that I was there 1.5 hours before sunrise, but the water was crystalline clear and the algae beds seemed like plush green carpets installed by some unbalanced drunkard. I thought about all of this as I slogged toward the edge of a raft of marsh-grasses, wondering if my wingshooting ability would be keen enough to make the journey worthwhile. An hour later, I forgot all about the walk in as the tearing-silk sound of Blue-Winged Teal streaking overhead erased all other thought but "More shells!"



The night before, I was in first class waffle mode. I had been shooting my scattergun quite well at the clays range and had even been doing respectably on Mourning and Eurasian Collared Dove. I attributed to this to two factors: (1) many of the doves had been decoying and (2) I had really learned the nuances of the Skeet constriction Carlson's Sporting Clays tube screwed into the business end of my 12 gauge Stoeger M3500. In fact, I had grown so attached to the choke that it was with much trepidation that I replaced it with the factory Modified constriction choke prior to the teal hunt. This was a logical decision, based on my host's recommendations and my knowledge that much of the teal would be harvested by pass-shooting.

So why so much to do over a choke? No doubt choke matters, but as Field & Stream's shotgun guru Phil Bourjaily puts it, most people miss by feet but choke only gives you inches.  For more of Phil's input on chokes see his two-part blog post (Part 1: http://www.fieldandstream.com/blogs/the-gun-nuts/random-thoughts-on-choke-pt-1, Part 2: http://www.fieldandstream.com/blogs/the-gun-nuts/some-random-thoughts-on-choke-part-ii). Despite only giving you inches, even a little wider pattern or a few more pellets on target can make the difference between a heavy game bag and a day ending in disappointment. Sure, sportsmen shot fixed choke guns for decades without issue. However, a bit of thought and a quick choke change can bring you closer to a bag limit or a winning clays score.

For true wingshooting (not turkey-hunting) I find myself reaching for two choke constrictions almost exclusively. The first is the aforementioned Skeet constriction (SKT) Carlson's Sporting Clays Tube and the second is the same style tube in Improved Modified (IMP MOD). These are actually pretty uncommon chokes, as most shotguns will come from the factory with Improved Cylinder, Modified, and Full chokes. Before I get into when and where I use SKT vs IMP MOD it is important to understand what each of the designations means.

Chokes constrict the internal diameter of a shotgun barrel. This restriction is measured in thousandths of an inch. As constriction increases, patterns tighten. Of course, all of this varies from manufacturer to manufacturer. The following chart gives a general idea of constrictions and the percent of pellets that each choke will deliver in a 30" circle at 40 yards. The percentages are approximate and some of the lesser-used chokes do not have percentages provided.







Keeping this chart in mind, I generally choose a Skeet constriction choke for the following scenarios:

Sporting Clays.  My local range throws true doubles exclusively. The targets are fast, but often close range.

Doves. This tube is especially effective on decoying doves. I had a number of beautiful doubles on doves committed to a spinning wing Mojo decoy this year thanks to the generous pattern of the Skeet choke at close range.

Decoying Ducks. See Doves.

Bobwhite Quail. Self-explanatory. The perception of blistering speed makes the Skeet tube a great confidence booster, though it probably isn't necessary.

Cottontail Rabbits. See Bobwhite Quail.

Despite the excellence of the SKT tube for many situations inside 25 yards, there are hunting scenarios where it just doesn't give the pattern density needed to make clean kills. This is where the Improved Modified tube comes into play. Higher pellet counts offset reduced impact energy as a result of extended ranges and as a result of less dense steel shot. I pick the IMP MOD in the following scenarios:

Jump-Shooting Ducks. This is where I spend the majority of my time wingshooting. Birds can be large (we sometimes encounter Giant Canadian Geese), ranges long, and steel shot (even at high velocities) doesn't perform as well as lead.

Pass-Shooting Waterfowl. With steel, IMP MOD delivers Full choke performance and often patterns better with large shot (B, BB, BBB, T) than an actual Full choke.

Squirrels. A tighter choke makes it easier to reach bushytails way up in the treetops.

Pheasant Hunting. See Jump-Shooting Ducks.

Now about those teal. It turns out that the Modified choke choice was the best one. I did miss quite a few birds, but that can be attributed to my absolute, indescribable sense of being overwhelmed by the number of birds flying. Once I settled down and picked my shots the shell to bird ratio decreased substantially.

Hunting Choices & Opportunity Costs

If you have considered reevaluating your personal finance practices at any time in the last 20 years you have undoubtedly heard the name Dave Ramsey before. If you haven’t, stop reading this blog post and immediately find a friend with his Financial Peace University program and borrow it. Ramsey has helped numerous people free themselves from debt and like many young couples my significant other and I are in the process of going through the program. While listening to a lecture today on the topic of personal finance, I was struck when Dave explained the concept of opportunity costs. Simply put, opportunity costs are tradeoffs that occur when you choose to spend your money or time on one thing instead of another. For example, if I invest my disposable income in an IRA, I can’t also use it to do home improvements. Assuming that most people act rationally, we tend to choose the option which we perceive gives us the greatest return.

Now, the concept of an opportunity cost is not new to me. However, what if I considered it in light of hunting? I know this sounds crazy, but hear me out. How we spend our time outdoors ultimately determines what benefit we yield from such time. Because we cannot be in two places at once, there are opportunity costs associated with each outdoor activity. A number of different variables affect the result of a hunt (and the associated opportunity costs):

-Game pursued

-Located hunted

-Time of day

-Weapon used      

-Hunting party size

-Hunting technique

Consider the following scenario:

It is a Friday afternoon in November and you the have rest of the weekend to hunt at your leisure. You have access to a mixed terrain parcel of land with hardwood timber, a winter wheat field, a 40-acre flood control impoundment, and hillsides full of blackberry bushes. Right now, hunting seasons for whitetail deer, rabbit, squirrel, quail, and waterfowl are open. You have a hunting buddy nearby that is always willing to go for an adventure.

What do you pursue?

Every decision we make is a trade-off and I’ve been in this scenario a hundred times. The decision is never easy. Because gun season for whitetail is often short (two weeks or less) there is a huge pressure to hunt deer. However, unless you’ve considered the need to accommodate two people with a ground blind, multiple stands, or a two-person stand then you either have to leave your buddy out of the hunt or risk being unsuccessful. Conversely, if you want to hunt small game or birds the likelihood of you harvesting a deer is slim. Furthermore, you’ll need to be wearing blaze orange which makes waterfowl hunting extremely difficult. Finally, if you do decide to take waterfowl you’ll also need to pack only non-toxic shot, which is expensive and ineffective at extended distances.

Can you see how this turns into a big puzzle? Oft times when faced with such decisions I tend to hedge my bets—I pursue a mixed bag (small game and birds) with non-toxic shot and a partner. This increases the fun factor of the hunt because the day is varied and can be spent with a companion in the field. Yes, you’ll have to wear blaze orange and you’ll spook a number of ducks. You’ll also be forced to limit your shots to relatively close range. However, the associated opportunity costs are less than what I perceive to be the benefit of going afield with a buddy and pursuing one of my favorite quarries (waterfowl).

Where opportunity costs really come into play is in choosing a weapon. If you’ve read my prior blog post “Dynamic” Bird Watching (http://piouspatriot.blogspot.com/2014/05/dynamic-bird-watching.html) you’ll recall that I was forced to pass on a really, really big tom turkey this year because I opted to take a shotgun along that had a limited range. I’m tickled to have gotten a turkey despite this, but I still can’t help but slightly wonder if things would have not been different had I been actually been packing my shotgun that is set up to shoot turkeys at long range. This is a perfect example of taking odd weapons afield and paying for it—yet for me it is a trend that I don’t see ending anytime soon.

I have a nostalgic streak a mile wide, which is why I’m set on trying to take a deer this year with a single-action revolver. There is just something undeniably cool about forcing yourself to get close to the quarry and making the shot that most people can’t. This is also why I often let my compound bow sit in the closet and why I pick up my lithe (but decidedly less efficient) longbow. The downside to this is that there is an associated opportunity cost and frequently you come home empty-handed. Now, as a hunter you have to accept from the beginning that you won’t be successful on every outing. However, there is such a thing as a glutton for punishment.

About four years ago I was at the zenith of my duck hunting fervor. I loved it. Mallards. Gadwalls. Wigeons. Heck, I’d even shoot a Ringneck. There was great joy in sneaking over a pond dam and seeing a veritable array of different duck species on the other side. To boot, I had gotten really good at shooting ducks. In fact, on a number of occasions I would empty my gun (limited to three shells by law), kill three ducks, reload, and kill three more ducks on a single rise. Despite having killed hundreds of ducks in my life, I had not (and still haven’t) shot a duck with a band. This failure ate at me and gnawed my very core as a duck hunter. Where could all of these mythical banded ducks be!? Despite this, I still loved duck hunting and wanted to combine it with another one of my passions: shooting a longbow. So, for about two months’ time I duck hunted with a quiver of arrows on my back and a longbow in my hand. Talk about failure. I buzzed ducks with arrow fletchings. I spooked ducks trying to get close. I lobbed arrows at ducks on the other side of the pond. I belly-crawled up to ducks and spent countless time glassing ducks with binoculars. Pretty much the only thing I didn’t do was kill a duck with a longbow. Eventually, reality set in and I realized that the opportunity cost was just too high. Each time a red-leg mallard sprung from the cattails and each time a white-capped wigeon whistled away I could not help but think, “Was that the banded duck I’ve been waiting on?”

However, not all nostalgia-fueled escapades are such abysmal failures. Last year I managed to do two novelty method hunts that were so rewarding that I’ll be back to hunting ducks with a longbow before long. You see, I actually managed to take a public land whitetail with an iron-sighted rifle designed in 1878 and I managed to harvest a cottontail rabbit with a revolver. Though neither animal would be going into a record book, each of these hunts left an indelible mark on my hunting mindset and have led me to hunger for more challenging adventures. So, in the end when you consider how you’ll go afield next fall perhaps the greatest reward might be to still-hunt instead of freeze to death in a deer stand, or to take your grandfather’s shotgun afield instead of your new Benelli. Antler and meat count for a lot to a hunter, but they don’t count quite as much as memories do.

The Old Way

 

Summer rains bring life          

Russet fins break the surface
Wading with my gig    

Part heron, part Cherokee

A statue turned lightning

"Dynamic" Bird Watching

I never considered that I would shoot a turkey today. In fact, I didn’t even think that I would be seeing turkeys today. My sweetheart and I were going to take a mini-vacation this week, culminating with hiking the Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve. Because I took a half day of vacation and because the current film selection in the local theater was terrible, we decided to go for a walk and see if we could not put her new digital camera to good use. I knew of a local lake that had been producing good numbers of migratory shorebirds, so I suggested that we go there.

Fast forward two hours later. We’d seen American pelicans, cranes, geese, swallows, shrikes and assorted other fowl. After relocating a couple miles down the road I passingly told my sweetie that we were in excellent turkey habitat. The gravel road ended in a massive hardwood draw with a beautiful washout on the right hand side. A considerable clearing with aged trees interspersed throughout looked exactly like the kind of place that a longbeard would hang out…and it was! After discussing the habitat, my partner encouraged me to giving calling a try, just for kicks and giggles. I quickly fished a diaphragm call out of my pack and gave two sets of three-note yelps. I was immediately answered by a gobble a few hundred yards away.

Now we are in a predicament. We are not in turkey hunting attire. I am wearing my brightest blue jeans, a gray polo, and a Cabela’s hat with a bright orange fish on it. My dearest was clad in blue jeans, sportswear and a blue-gray Nike hat. This was going to be interesting. I quickly placed her behind a large oak and descended the slope about 10 yards to shorten the potential shot range. I knew this would be necessary. Typically when turkey hunting I carry a Stoeger 3500 with a Primos Tightwad Choke and Winchester Longbeard XR ammo. This setup with the 3 1/2” shells (2 oz of 5 shot in a resin-locked column) will kill a bird way on the other side of 50 yards. However, I wasn’t planning on going turkey hunting today; I was planning on going walking. So, I was packing my “walking” shotgun: a Remington 870 Wingmaster retired from a Midwestern police department and given new life as my home defense gun. It is perfect for walking because of the light weight, short length-of-pull stock, and handy single-point sling. Despite its utility, I knew that an 18” cylinder-bored barrel and 1 ¼ oz of #6 shot was not going to do the job past 25 yards.



After 15 minutes of talking turkey (hah!) I finally caught a glimpse of the tom that had responded. Not only was this the only gobbler I had in range all year, it was also likely the biggest tom that I had ever encountered in the field. His beard was every bit of 8” long. Unfortunately, I only had about a 10 second window to take the bird and he was over 40 yards away. I aligned the rifle sights on his day-glo red head but couldn’t force myself to pull the trigger. I knew the limitations of my weapon and it would have been an irresponsible decision. Soon after the gobbler disappeared into the brush and began putting. Once you hear this turkey vocalization, you know that the show is over. I climbed back up the bank only to find that my girlfriend had watched the turkey for 2 minutes before I ever had the chance to see him.



I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I wasn’t feeling downtrodden. We preceded out of the hardwoods and into a field-edge. A lake channel ran parallel to our path and I intended to make way for an overlook that would provide a good opportunity to set up the camera’s tripod. Half way there and we both heard rustling in the brush to our right. My girl pulls on my backpack and we pause. A few hopeful yelps are quickly sung but no reply occurs. Three steps later and the tall grass on the other side of us explodes in a hurricane of green blades and barred feathers. I immediately can tell that we have busted a bedded tom, but I can’t tell what size. Being the meat hunter that I am (don’t judge) I swing the 870 briskly and slap the trigger just as the bird takes flight. The whole ordeal lasts less than 2 seconds and I have not only my first Kansas turkey, but also my first public land turkey! Upon closer inspection it was obvious that the bird was a jake with a short beard, but I am still overjoyed. After a quick photo session I look up to see three other hunters coming towards us. They are each head-to-toe in matching designer camouflage, are wearing $100 turkey hunting vests, and are carrying camo-clad specialized turkey-hunting shotguns. They also look like I just walked over their grave—as I look like some twisted tourist, wearing a polo with a turkey in one hand and a riot shotgun in the other. After a quick chat with the boys we exchange well wishes and go about our respective ways. Sometimes it is better to be lucky than good and today was definitely one of those days. I wouldn’t have traded this dynamic and heart-pounding harvest for any other.

March Madness in the Great Outdoors

I didn't really feel like going scouting today. In fact, I was set to take a bath, grab some dinner and retire for the evening. But, my girlfriend had other notions: "Get out, it is still light outside!" So, I (slightly begrudgingly) got myself together and strapped on the wheelgun for a 2 hr. trip. What a trip did it prove to be! Late March means two things to me: turkey hunting and mushrooms. I've been prepping for the April turkey season for a while by sorting my kit, practicing calls, and patterning my shotgun. Mushrooms aren't even an option now. It literally snowed here yesterday. Needless to say, my main interest was going to be looking for turkey sign.

Twenty minutes later I'm pulling into public land and I can't help but think that this was a good decision. The fields of milo stubble with a lake in the background was just what I needed to end the workday. I am less than twenty yards down the agricultural road when I see a wild turkey wing feather. Things are looking up. As I am examining the feather I suddenly hear the frantic scattering of leaves and the nervous chirps of bobwhite quail. I've lived in Kansas for two years and I have seen exactly one bobwhite prior to this. This covey knows something is up and is quickly making it's way through the dense underbrush on the right hand side of the road. Nonetheless, I count at least five birds and by the ruckus I judge there to be at least ten in the covey. Maybe I will just have place to bird hunt next year.

Now I am proceeding slowly down the road, measuring each step and watching the inevitable stragglers from the covey scurry away. Two more steps and I hear rustling but don't see anything. I wait and once again I am tickled by what I see. A big cottontail has heard the quail and makes a couple quick hops into an opening about twelve yards away. Before I know it I've got my revolver out of my holster and have the tritium front sight trained on the brown blob that is so effortless blending into the leaf litter. Boom! I see a flash of white fur and I know that I have made a good shot. As it turns out, the ball went right through the shoulder---not bad for basic sights on a small target.



At this point, I quickly skin and dress the rabbit. The temperate is hovering around 40 degrees and I don't want the meat to ruin (which is very possible if you don't work quickly on rabbits). After a short cleaning session I am ambling down the trail once more--happy as a lark. Another forty yards and I have quite a pep in my step. I take a quick respite where the field edge meets another finger of timber when I see something pushing through the tall grass on the trail-side. A hen turkey bounds twice, hits the packed dirt, and then takes awkward flight towards the lake. The whole time I am fumbling with my camera trying to get a picture, but only manage to capture the trail ahead.

As the sun begins to set I circumscribe the field edge and watch as two does and three fawns sneak across the stubble into a wood about 250 yards away. I'm so happy that I am about to burst and in my revery I nearly go into cardiac arrest when yet another cottontail explodes from a briar-patch just a few feet away from me. Have you ever tried to draw a revolver one-handed from concealment and aim at a running rabbit while holding another skinned rabbit in your off hand? I have. I imagine it was quite a sight to see.

Extraordinary can only begin to describe the scouting trip that I had. It is amongst the best in my hunting lifetime and I saw more game today than in the past five rambles that I have went on. I'm cooking brier rabbit for dinner tonight and have quite a story to tell. No doubt I will regret saying this for a while, but I am undoubtedly thankful that I listened to my girlfriend...   :)

P.S. Since squirrel season doesn't start in Kansas until June 1st I am considering this completion of Spring Goal #4.

Update - Spring Goal No. 2 - Catch a 4 lb.+ Largemouth

Finally winter's hoary grasp is broken! The high today reached 78 degrees. I spent the day earning my bread but secretly lamenting that I was indoors. While running errands during the workday I noted that the spring fires had started billowing their charcoal plumes on the horizon and just this morning the songbirds were waxing poetic in a way that I swear I hadn't heard in ages. Naturally, I buzzed out of work after my due diligence and proceeded immediately to buy my fishing license and pick up a copy of the 2014 regulations. Once home I Googled urban fishing locations in a desperate attempt to successfully wet a line. Somehow between bare-bones descriptions and grainy photos I found myself at a sequestered nature area in the middle of the big city. It didn't look like much but there were cars in the gravel parking lot and a big sign that denoted 15" slot limits for largemouth. Could this be a welcome omen?

In a word, no. Not even close. I started pitching a cone-eyed marabou/flashabou pattern in lime green and turquoise that was expertly tied by a friend. Despite my urge to rip a shallow-diving crankbait across the pond I let logic get the best of me and thought that I would try subtlety. I have to admit, the marabou pulsed wonderfully and the fly descended so slowly that I would have sworn that a strike was only casts away. I was utterly baffled after pitching it into every piece of cover I could find. Then I thought, "You fool, you need more reach!" Next I grab a heavy chartreuse curly-tailed jig and lob it gleefully to the distant shore. It sank far too quickly and I was forced to buzz it at inappropriate speed across the raccoon-tails. No such luck. Next I succumb to the shallow-diving crankbait, noting that the one other serious fisherman at the location had actually managed to hang a fish on a similar lure. I  spend the next 30 minutes probing and poking around every accessible nook and cranny. Nada.

Angry, I decide that I will now pull out all of the stops. I reach for the showstopper. New in the package--found inexplicably on the clearance rack of the local sporting goods store--the ultimate predatory fish slayer had recently come into my possession. Giant, gleaming, like a hammered copper relic of some druidic chieftain this lure was nothing short of enchanted. It even had the color-scheme of some wildling  palette---all black and red and yellow. Bold colors. Colors that one might find in natural plant dyes or warpaint. Can a simple amalgam of wire, beads, bucktail, and shining blades be sexy? Yes, this was practically a fertility symbol---even complete with facsimile fish roe. It was the ne plus ultra of predatory baits.


11/16 oz. Mepps Double Blade Agila (LINK)
#5 Copper Blades
Black Dress

As soon as my retrieve began I knew that I what was in store for me: ichthyological enlightenment. My Mitchell rod and Stren line could barely constrain the primal THUM THUM THUM that the hypnotizing copper blades were beating out. THUM THUM THUM. A state record largemouth. THUM THUM THUM. A Bass Pro Shops sponsorship. THUM THUM THUM. A new Nitro boat. THUM THUM THUM. Moby Dick in inland waters. THUM THUM THUM! Yet, before I knew it I had the lure in hand. It was no less magical, but I had no more fish than when I had started. I picked it up and looked at it disbelief, as if to say, "Surely you jest?" I cast to a promising weed-bed edge. THUM THUM THUM. No takers.

I turn from my early spring view. Something has to be wrong. Sadly, I must conclude that all the fish in Kansas are dead. They've all froze to death and their is nothing we can do about it. I guess I'll have to take up golf (and self-loathing) now. All my fishy dreams are dead (or the water temperature is still a little too low).