Gun-store frenzy: Like a kid in a candy store

A funny thing happened to me at the gun store yesterday.

Hank and I made a trip to Guns, Fishing & Other Stuff in Vacaville because ... Hell, I'm almost embarrassed to say this, but here goes: I won another shotgun at a California Waterfowl dinner. Yes, it's my third in a row. Yes, I have done nothing to deserve such good fortune.

Anyway, I won a Mossberg Silver Reserve 20 gauge side-by-side, and Hank was the winning bidder on a Mossberg Onyx Reserve 28 gauge side-by-side. We really don't need either of these guns, so our plan was to trade them for a new duck gun for Hank that he'd been thinking about for a while - a Benelli SuperNova.

The way this works is when you win a gun at a Cal Waterfowl dinner, the gun store that processes the transaction will usually allow you to apply the wholesale value of the gun(s) you won to the retail value of the gun(s) you want.

I figured the wholesale value would be pretty low, so we went to the store thinking just Hank would get a new gun. But when we got there, we found out the wholesale value on the Mossbergs was actually pretty good, and we could easily get two decent guns without having to do much more than plop down a little extra change.

What I've really been wanting lately is a practice bow, just to start playing around with archery a bit. But the store doesn't carry bows, so I found myself in the odd position of suddenly being able to buy a gun.

Uh, what do I do now???

Hank and I conferred and decided we needed something for target practice and maybe small game - perhaps a .22-250?

I darted around the gun counters trying out .22-250s, and the only one I liked was super expensive, like $800, which was way more than the trade credit I had available.

I went back to Hank, who was still dealing with the paperwork on his gun (oh yes, we have LOTS of paperwork here in California) and informed him of my failure.

"Maybe a .17?" he suggested helpfully.

"I'll try that."

I took a look at several .17s and found the same problem - the only one I liked was really expensive, and spending extra money really wasn't in the cards for me.

I paced around the gun counters anxiously.

I can get a new gun!

I must take advantage of this opportunity!

But how???

See, normally I know what I want when I go gun shopping, but I just hadn't been prepared for this. I felt like a game show contestant who had 60 seconds to decide whether to go for the sailboat or the RV. I had to pick something, because all we could do was trade - they won't give back cash.

But I was flummoxed. Here I was in a position to walk away with a gun - a gun! - and I couldn't find anything that fit my needs and my budget. Our gun safe is too full to get something we don't need, and my credit card is too overburdened to plunk down hundreds of dollars willy-nilly.

So I decided: I had to walk away from the guns.

I felt pathetic and stupid. What self-respecting hunter could walk away from an opportunity like this?

But Hank had an idea: Could we use the extra trade value on ammo?

We asked the manager. "Sure!" he said.

So we went downstairs to the ammo department and picked out five cases of target shells.

Yes, five cases. A case has 10 boxes. A box has 25 shells. So we walked out of there with 1,250 rounds of target ammunition, which took a couple trips because that stuff is heavy.

And suddenly, I was happy.

Instead of getting a gun of potentially dubious value to me, I would be able to shoot skeet to my heart's content for easily the next few months without having to shell out for shells. Instead of having to learn a new gun, I could invest that time in improving my accuracy with my current gun so I have less bad shooting to be mortified about next duck season.

So what if I blew my chance to get a new gun? I've never been a gun nut anyway. I'm just a hunter who uses guns and ammo to get the job done. And that's just fine with me.

And hey, Californians, if you'd really like to win a gun, I recommend you join Cal Waterfowl, become a life member and attend a CWA fundraising dinner. At many dinners, you can make a $200 payment toward your $1,000 life membership and be entered in a drawing for a shotgun. There are usually very few people in that drawing - it's been three to eight the times I've participated - and I've won the last three life member drawings I've entered.

And it's OK - my life membership payment is now complete, so you don't have to worry about Lucky Holly competing with you anymore.

© Holly A. Heyser 2011

Announcing the most perfect women's hunting pants ever - for me, anyway

For the most part, I hate women's hunting pants. No, wait, that's not accurate: I hate all women's pants.

Why? They fit me like crap.

I'm long-waisted, so the waistband always sits too low. And I have a relatively small waist and relatively, uh, generous hips and thighs, so if I buy pants big enough for hips and thighs, the waistband sticks out a lot. Like I could easily stuff a fifth of Jack Daniels in the extra space. Not that I've ever done that.

There's only one kind of pants I have ever really loved, though, and it occurred to me last year that, with a few minor additions, they would make perfect hunting pants. Because my mom happens to be bad-ass with a sewing machine and an excellent reverse engineer, I asked her to make me a pair.

So, behold, I present to you ... NorCal Cazadora's Ninja Huntress Pants!


Yep. They're karate pants, made in sturdy camo denim, with a cargo pocket added to each leg, and a small license/key pocket added to the front.

If you've ever done martial arts, or if your kids do karate, you can imagine what makes these pants so wonderful for vigorous activity.

If you haven't though, allow me to explain:

The most obvious thing is that these pants are really roomy. Lay them out on the floor and you'll see way more fabric than you'd see with a normal pair of pants.

But roominess alone isn't enough - what really make them tick is the gusset. Most pants have four pieces of fabric that come together at the crotch, forming a cross (and making the pants very form-fitting). But karate pants have a giant diamond-shaped gusset where that cross would be, and that allows for more freedom of movement.

In karate, that means you can easily do splits or high kicks in these pants. Naturally, there's not much call for either of those stunts in hunting. But the point is that these pants won't bind no matter what you do in them.

The final thing going for these pants is the big elastic waistband with a drawstring. If you're like me, your weight and girth fluctuates a lot, and these pants are very forgiving. A little thick at the waist right now? Loosen up the drawstring. Dropped a few pounds? Tighten it up.

Seriously, I think you could gain 15 pounds before you'd have to go up a size in these pants. Not that I want to try that. And I know I could lose 15 pounds and they'd still fit fine, because I was probably 15 pounds lighter when I bought the pants that Mom used as a model for these. (Yeah, that was back when I was working out two hours a day, and also doing tae kwon do and playing tennis regularly.)

The most important measurements in these pants is the length - generally, if they're the right length, the rest works fine.

So, where can you get them?

Beats me. There's just one pair that I know of, and Mom and I have no plans to go into business to make and sell any more (neither of us has much entrepreneurial drive). So if you're an entrepreneur who feels like manufacturing a new kind of hunting pant, help yourself to the idea.

Or don't! All I'm sayin' is they work for me. And boy, I sure am glad my mom can sew.

All photos by Andrew Nixon.

© Holly A. Heyser 2011

Metamorphosis: Hunting without a gun

Somewhere in the middle of duck season, I had a revelation.

OK, it wasn't exactly a revelation. The thought had occurred to me before. But this time, instead of denying it, I listened and accepted the truth: Fitness hurts.

Being fit doesn't hurt. Being fit rocks. But getting and staying fit the conventional way - elliptical machines, running, even walking - leaves me pretty much wracked with pain.

What's this got to do with duck season, you ask? This: I had a pretty good fitness regimen going this fall, but when duck season began to heat up, the routine fell apart. In very short order the only exercise I was getting was duck hunting.

The way I'm hunting ducks these days, it's actually a pretty good workout. I hunt in an area where you literally race through the water - in waders, not in a boat - to get a good spot before someone else gets to it. And because I hunt without a dog, I charge out through the water to get every duck I shoot (and the non-dead variety can lead you on quite a chase).

After a few weeks of no more running/walking/weights, but lots of duck hunting, I had to admit something: I didn't hurt all the time anymore. No tight hamstrings. No rock-hard IT band. No knots in the glutes. Even my lower back felt better for the first time in a few years. All those pains had become a permanent state of being for me when I was fit, no matter how much stretching I did, no matter how much I forked out for regular massages.

Lesson learned: Repetitive motion = bad. Natural range of motion = good. Something about moving in unpredictable directions seems to work my muscles more thoroughly, and prevent the build-up of scar tissue that leads to that intractable tightness.

So I decided: That's it. I'm done. No more conventional cardio. Period. I'm done with the torture.

The only question now was how could I possibly get a nice natural range of motion into my routine once duck season ended and school started up again? Gym? Nothing but repetitive machines. Playground equipment at the neighborhood park? No, someone would probably think I was a pedophile. Maybe the rock climbing wall at the new gym at school? Another bill to pay...

Ultimately, I found the solution in a Rocky movie, of all places. Rocky IV, to be specific.

Hank and I were watching the movie a couple weeks ago, reliving all those great Cold War memories, and when we got to the part where Rocky Balboa goes to the Soviet Union to train. Nemesis Ivan Drago trains on state-of-the-art equipment (and steroids), and Rocky trains au naturel. No, not naked - he just goes running, mountain climbing, log splitting, lifting horse-carts full of people, etc.

That's it! I thought. I can go to Siberia!

OK, not really. But I did realize there's actually some mildly rugged terrain in a state recreation area surrounding a small lake that's about five minutes from my house. If I follow deer trails up and down the hillsides instead of the bike trail around the lake, I could get a hell of a good workout. I could even simulate a pig hunt with Phillip, which typically includes long walks on uneven terrain, steep climbs and descents, and occasional sprints.

Oooh, bonus points: I could get prepared for spring pig hunting too!

So that's what I've been doing the past two weekends: I head to the lake, climb up a hill and see where the deer trails take me.

It takes me through cool oak woods, blanketed with a lush carpet of chickweed and miner's lettuce, which I pick and eat as I go. On the steep hillside underneath the expensive homes, I spot dozens of golf balls surrounded only by deer tracks - apparently the balls are the sole emissaries of civilization above. I see a great winged thing take off from high in the oak's branches above me. Then it returns, and I see it is an owl ... with a hawk not far behind it. I cross a creek timidly, edging out on a fallen tree branch carefully until I hear the snap and make the leap without thinking - laughing at myself. A squirrel chatters at my intrusion. A feral cat lounging in the shade slinks off at my approach.

The only other people I see are children. I freeze at the sight of them, wondering if they'll notice me.

And that's when I make the connection: This feels a lot like childhood.

When my sisters and I were kids, we'd visit our grandparents at Lake Isabella, and because our families gave us a lot of independence, we could just wander off and explore: We'd charge up and down hills, cross creeks and stop whenever we felt like it to examine interesting bugs or fish or pieces of glass. If we played our cards right - which we invariably did - we'd pop out into civilization right next to a convenience store where we could stock up on candy for the walk back home. When we got back to our grandparents' house, we were exhausted and happy.

Later, when I'd grown up and become a newspaper reporter, I was working on an article about urban creeks when the woman I was interviewing made an interesting point: Urban creeks are largely hidden, but if you want to know where they are, just ask the kids. Adults drive by without seeing them; kids know them intimately. Kids glom onto nature, and they embrace that aimless wandering through it.

Since I started hunting, I've often looked back on that kind of childhood play in wonder. I never knew it then, but it seems so obvious now how much of it was preparation for hunting: hiking, observing, hiding. Especially hiding.

Now that my favorite hunting season is over, and hunts will be few and far between for the next seven months, it seems incredibly comforting to return to this kind of play. It just feels right.

At the end of these jaunts, I know I've worked hard. But instead of feeling sore and tight, I feel renewed, physically and mentally.

I guess this was the probably the best kind of "fitness" routine all along.
It's called living.

© Holly A. Heyser 2011

Duck hunting jackets: Options for women

If you're a woman duck hunter who isn't built like a man, I'm guessing you've had a hell of a time finding a duck jacket that works for you.

Personally, I made do with a men's medium jacket from Gamehide my first three seasons until I got tired of the butt of my gun getting caught in all the extra fabric. Two seasons ago I switched to Drake because it was the only company I found that made a men's small. I love that jacket, except for the fact that the hood is too small, and therefore useless to me.

But what if even a men's small doesn't work for you? What are your options?

SHE Outdoor Apparel announced this year that it will be producing a complete line of women's duck hunting clothing: jacket, bib, waders, gloves. I hope to give them a test-drive later this year.

But if that doesn't float your boat, would another women's hunting jacket do?

To answer that question, I tested two women's hunting jackets: one from Prois (disclosure: I'm a member of its field staff), and another from the Haley Vines Collection.

Both jackets are hooded, waterproof shells (not insulated). Waterproof is essential for duck hunting - even if you don't hunt in rain a lot like I do, there's all that splash potential.

And the exterior fabric of both jackets is soft and quiet - you won't be making noise with either of them.

But what are the differences? And how well are they suited to duck hunting?

I'll start with the Haley Vines jacket, which I spotted this year at the SHOT Show. (Click here and go to the fourth slide to see the catalog page.)

This piece stood out because while it isn't a duck jacket, Haley Vines made it in the incredibly popular Mossy Oak Duck Blind camo pattern. I glommed onto it instantly (love that camo pattern), and the folks at Haley Vines were kind enough to give me one to try out before my duck season ended.

The most un-ducky thing about this jacket is the blaze orange Haley Vines logo on the sleeve and waistband, but don't let that throw you - it's small, and it blends in surprisingly well with the detailed camo pattern (you can barely make it out just below the left pocket in this photo).

This jacket is slightly more form-fitting than the Prois jacket, and it's about two inches shorter, with the bottom seam resting at the top of my hips. But I had no problem wearing layers underneath it, and the slimmer cut made it well-suited for wearing under the waders. (For what it's worth, the fabric is a bit stretchy too, so it doesn't bind.)

One of my favorite features was the snug-fitting cuff inside of the loose-fitting sleeve. It's good for keeping the wind out, but it surprised me with one more benefit: When I had to plunge my hand into the water to get a diving duck, that cuff kept the water out too. Now, I didn't do a repeat performance to keep testing it, but after one quick plunge, my wrists were dry.

This jacket also has a license-sized, zipped chest pocket on the left side in the lining.

The only downside to this jacket was the mesh lining in the front: When you put your hands in the pockets, there's nothing but mesh on the inside of the pockets, which means the cold will come right through it. This really isn't a huge issue when you're wearing the jacket under waders, but it might be a consideration for other types of wear.

Oh yeah, minor point: Haley Vines doesn't use conventional sizes like S-M-L etc.; it uses a 0-5 system (a women's medium translates into a 2). While I appreciate any attempts to eliminate the stigma of some of those labels, it just adds to the time it takes to figure out what size to order.

Retail price: $125.

Now for Prois. I tested the Eliminator jacket, which comes in Realtree AP HD or Max1.

Now, if you think it matters that this isn't in a traditional duck camo, I would encourage you to check out all the rage in duck hunting: old-fashioned camo:


People kill ducks wearing this stuff, which doesn't look a damned bit like cattails. You'll be fine.

So, on to the important stuff: The Eliminator jacket is roomier than the Haley Vines jacket, so you could layer underneath it and still wear it over the waders. When it's raining hard, that can be a good thing if you don't want all the rain to run down the back of your jacket and straight into your undies. It's also about two inches longer.

One of the coolest features of the Eliminator is the duck tail. Yes, it's got a duck tail, which is basically an extra long flap of fabric in the back to keep your padunkadunk dry, which is helpful if your padunkadunk, er, sticks out (as good padunkadunks should, thank you very much).

While I'm not sure that's super helpful in a duck hunting context, it does give this jacket extra functionality for other types of hunting. And if you don't want to walk around with the flap out, it snaps right back up into the jacket.

Another positive: The pockets are lined with the same windproof fabric from the jacket's exterior, so your hands won't get cold in the pockets.

While this jacket doesn't have the snug interior cuff that the Haley Vines jacket has, it does have Velcro straps that allow you to tighten the cuffs as much as you want.

Final bonus points: Made in the U.S.A.

Price: $170 at Cabela's.

Now, while both of these jackets will work fine for duck hunting, they aren't tailor-made for it, so they don't have some of the features that duck hunters really love, like external hand-warming chest pockets that you can access above the top of your waders, or big, roomy shell pockets.

But on the plus side, if you do other types of hunting in the rain, these will do double-duty.

© Holly A. Heyser 2011

The heresy of hunting ducks without a dog

Hi. My name is Holly. I hunt ducks without a dog.

For a long time, Hank and I viewed this as a temporary situation that would be remedied when we had more money, more time and a sense that we were ready.

But this past duck season, we realized it just wasn't going to happen, because ... well, we're actually fine hunting ducks without a dog.

Seems like such a simple choice, doesn't it? Except here's the thing: For some people, the fact that we hunt ducks without a dog freaks them out.

Here are some of the reactions we've gotten:

"You don't hunt with a dog? You mean, you get your own ducks??? (Which is like saying, "You actually mow your own lawn when there's abundant illegal immigrant labor that will do it for you?")

"Oh, you have to get a dog!" (As if we just haven't been made aware of the necessity.)

"That's how n***ers hunt." (For the record, I despise racism and ethnic slurs.)

I have never experienced greater peer pressure than the pressure from fellow duck hunters to get a dog. Seriously, my mom was more OK with me deciding not to have kids than many duck hunters are about me not having a dog.

Some people seem to take it personally - as if my doglessness is a condemnation of their choice to hunt with canine partners.

I once wrote an article for a magazine in which I mentioned that I hunt without a dog, and that it feels weird letting a dog do my work for me. The editors responded with a defensiveness that took me totally off guard. They touted the joy of watching a good dog work, the deep history of hunting with dogs and dogs' superior ability (more on this later) to find ducks.

They wanted me to delete the passage - to omit a central fact of my hunting - because it bothered them.

The funny thing is that I'm not opposed to hunting with dogs at all, and I never condemn fellow duck hunters for hunting with dogs. Hell, some of my best friends have duck dogs. And when I hunt with those friends, I love watching their dogs work, whether it's in the marsh or in upland fields.

So why do we not want a hunting dog of our own? Allow me to explain:

Hunting space: The place where we do most of our hunting is a shallow, walk-in marsh with lots of big water. This means that unless we sail a bird really far away, we've got excellent chances of finding it before it burrows into any tules and cattails.

If we routinely hunted deep water from a boat, of course we would have a dog. It's an obvious necessity in that case.

And if we routinely hunted places with lots of thick tule beds, we would get a dog. On the rare occasions we find ourselves in such areas, we simply choose our shots carefully - we won't pull the trigger on a bird if we think its flight path and likely angle of descent would put it in thick tules.

We never say, "Oh, eff it! Take the shot - the dog will find it."

And that works really well for us. Hank and I had loss rates of about 10 percent this past season, well below the 18 percent loss rates that hunters themselves report in surveys.

For the record, I lost nine ducks hunting my regular spot this season.

One was a ruddy. I'd knocked her down, but my gun jammed so I couldn't take the finishing shot. She dove, and that was it - never saw her again.

The rest were ducks that sailed a long way, then got up and flew again when I got close to them. Pretty sure a dog wouldn't have helped.

Commitment: A dog is like a child, not just a commitment of money - though the cost is significant - but a commitment of time. Dogs need to be walked. Dogs need maintenance training and practice.

Since I started hunting a little over four years ago, I have gotten more busy, not less. I work all day, and then I work all night, doing photography or writing. Hank's schedule is similarly crammed, though you can insert "cooking" in lieu of photography.

I keep having to jettison things that used to be important to me.

Giving up cooking? Who cares - Hank cooks better than I ever could.

Giving up exercise? That's bad. Literally, chasing ducks is the only exercise I've gotten since November.

Giving up regular housekeeping? That's gross.

I've given up all three, and I'm really not sure what else I can stop doing.

Then there's the travel. Hank and I do a fair bit of traveling, and our travel plans for this year are starting to look staggering. Our kitties are fine with food and water when we leave the house for four or five days, but that just doesn't fly with dogs.

Fear: The first two reasons are, frankly, compelling enough - having a dog isn't necessary or practical for us. But there is a third reason, and it's what I see and hear all around me when I hunt.

While we all admire the well-trained dog, we've all come across dogs that are the exact opposite: The one that bays at incoming ducks (thanks for wrecking the shot, there, Rover). The one that mauls ducks (unacceptable - we hunt for the table). The willful dog (always easy to locate by the repeated yells of "NO! NO! NOOOOO!").

Frankly, if I were going to get a dog, I would beg, borrow or steal the money to have it trained well.

But I know even the best-trained dogs sometimes have problems that make them more of a liability than an asset. Then you're faced with three choices: Get rid of it (yeah, send it to a pet shelter or back to the breeder, despite having welcomed it into your home as a member of the family), retire it to petdom (meaning it will howl every time you pack up your duck gear and leave without it), or - as many people seem to do - just keep hunting with it until it finally dies.

I would be the third person, because I LOVE my animals, and I would never get rid of a dog or leave it at home just because it wasn't perfect. And I really don't want to put myself in the position of having to make that choice - I mean, why should I when I don't have to?

So that's it. That's why we don't have a duck dog and aren't going to get a duck dog unless something major changes.

If history is any indication, I'll now get a lot of comments from people who want to convince me that the reasons I've given for my personal choice are wrong. I'll be made to feel like a heretic. A disgrace to hunting.

But deep down, I'm really hoping people surprise me, and perhaps engage in a little introspection about why they have such a visceral reaction to our doglessness.

After all, I'm not asking you to give up your dog, or tell you that you're stupid to have a duck dog. I'm just saying it's OK for me not to have one.

© Holly A. Heyser 2011