The only time I've ever hunted with more than 3 guys, 4 on the rare occasion, is Canada. We usually had 5-6 guys with a couple times we had 9. My problem in groups is I end up rushing my shot before someone else shoots and I waste a shell on a dead bird. I'm not in danger of winning any kind of competition but I can usually shoot good enough to kill my birds. My worst enemy is my own head. If something screws with my head or I'm uncomfortable where I am my shooting goes to crap.
It took me one volley in a crowd to start not liking pumping. Went home for Turkey. Asked Bill, " hey you got a semi I could use? ". Handed me a black beretta 390. Hump back caught my eye. He says close your eyes, mount it like you're going to shoot, then open them. Ok. "Looking down the rib?" Me: " perfect". Never looked back I sided half his house for that gun. Bill and I are completely different animals he's a deer hunter and super good at it. He has a closet full of guns.
Yeah, no telling what my problem is. You'd think having to shoot at 3-4 times the number of ducks everyone else does would eventually result in improvement, but my lot seems to be an expensive ammo bill and a sore shoulder. I so envy my friends as they stand in the blind with full straps just hoping a lost goose comes by as I finish up. I think 14 is the biggest group I've hunted with. The blind I'm in right now shoots 12.
This crotchety old man rarely take a “duck shootin’ gun to the blind, I keep an old pump gun there, if ever checked. I had my right totally replaced 4 years ago and it hasn’t allowed me to even shoot a 20 ga. In Missouri doesn’t require a hunting and fishing license after age 65. I do buy a migratory bird license and a duck stamp. I do go on almost every hunt an live vicariously through my son and grandson, they also take care of my limit for me. In the blind I am the pintail, widgeon, mallard drake caller. My son and his son are great team callers and with no competition they do good.
Not me, but happened at a farm We hunted when I was a kid. A buddy of my Dad's had exclusive permission for pheasant hunting a farm in south central Wisconsin. We went to the farm on a regular basis to help the farmer out with maintenance, making hay, anything that the old timer needed to have done. One beautiful October day, we got to the farm at the crack of dawn and hunted the morning. We were asked to stay out of the soy that he was going to harvest that afternoon. We hunted a couple hours and shot our birds, walked up to the farmhouse and had a couple cups of coffee with the farmer and his wife. As we were at the house, a pickup truck pulled in and three middle aged guys got out with their dogs, loaded up and headed right for the soybean field. The farmer asked us if we knew them and we didn't. He told us that he would be right back and to stick around. A couple minutes later, he backed his manure spreader right up to the truck and spread a full load of manure all over their truck. You couldn't even see what color it was when he was done. After that, he came back to the house and called the sheriff to press charges against them for trespassing. The sheriff had the truck impounded and a tow truck came and towed it away all full of the manure. Priceless!!!
My uncle and I still laugh about the same problem. When we were first starting out, we'd argue constantly about who shot what duck. It didn't take long for it to sink in that he who claims the quickest, gets to shoot the least. We had 8 guys lined up in layout boats on a hunt years ago, almost impossible to know who shot what. After every volley, guys would start claiming birds. Strangely enough, all the birds were claimed right away so apparently I wasn't drawing a feather. Had a pair swing the edge on my side, myself and my little 12yo cousin were on the end of the line and we were the only ones in position to shoot. Both birds fell and one of the guys congratulated me on the nice shooting. "Who, me? I didn't even shoot. The kid must've been floating a 4th." They promptly deposited a limit in my boat and I was done for the day. I love hunting with crack shots.
Just don't call him lazy for setting up next to a levee. Or the time, on a rather cold day, a heater got knocked into the water during a volley. Someone, who shall remain nameless, stood in the middle of the decoys and declared that not another duck would be allowed into decoys until the @#$%!&*$ heater was re-lit. I had almost forgot about that hunt.
