Update: Argentina Goose Hunting Prohibition

April 18, 2009.  Many hunters still request information about Argentina's fabled goose hunting.  Some hunters are even told that goose hunting is as good as ever.  Unfortunately, this is not the case.  Much of this malicious information comes from agents or outfitters that dismiss regulations for personal profits.

We wish to inform hunters that a wide-reaching prohibition on Argentina goose hunting remains firmly in affect.  Most of the old hot-spot areas are included in these conservation regulations.  The prohibition is declared on the provinces of Rio Negro, Buenos Aires, Chubut and Santa Cruz.  These provinces encompass the migrational corridor extending from the mountainous through the Atlantic zones.  There is no forseeable ending date due to the prohibition's origin.

There are four species of geese endemic to South America inlands.  One of these species, the "red cauquen", or Ruddy-headed Goose (Chloephaga rubidiceps), is endangered, and its population is estimated at only about 1,000 individuals. The Ruddy-headed Goose is protected by national and provincial laws.  However, the difficulty in distinguishing Ruddy-headed Geese from the female of the other goose species with which it becomes intermingled during migration, poses serious threat to its continued existence.

Many long-time Argentine operators say that the goose hunts of yesteryear are over, at least for now.  Hunters that hear of Argentina goose hunts that rival the good old days are advised to excerice care in booking their hunts.  Ask questions: specific hunt areas, commuting times, specific legalities including licensing and transportation, estimated bag limits.  Most, if not all, of the professional operators that historically delivered these magnificent Argentina goose hunts no longer offer them.  Recent promotions come from non-reliable sources.

The geese of Argentina are doubtlessly the best decoying waterfowl on the face of earth, and to experience it first-hand is certainly among a waterfowl hunter's most memorable achievements.  We at GetDucks.com hope that an adequate regulatory framework to ensure the sustainable use of the Argentina's migratory geese is forthcoming and that we travelling sportsmen are soon able to experience these thrilling hunts again.  We we'll be sure to keep you posted of further developments in these regards.

Note: the justification for Argentina's goose hunting prohibition is further described in the following report entitled Harvest of migratory geese Chloephaga spp. in Argentina: an overview of the present situation (2006)

Update.  July 2010.  Argentina goose hunting is still closed.  There are a number of outfitters that continue to hunt guests "under the radar", but it remains illegal throughout the majority of areas historically hunted.  An interesting story told by a group that was goose hunting east of Colonel Pringle in 2009: about mid-morning, a squadron of crop dusters "stretched from horizon to the next" swept the wheat fields clean of geese and herded them offshore until they became exhausted.  Once the geese landed on the water they drank salt water and perished and later washed ashore in the thousands.  No way to verify this story, but it was again repeated by an Argentine outfitter this year.  We receive several inquiries regarding Argentina goose hunting.  If it were legal, our outfitting affiliates would again be hunting the tradition areas and, rest assured, we'd be right there with them.

Update August 2012.  The Buenos Aires Province declared magellan goose a nuisance species and issued licenses to outfitter - but only during about a 6-8 week period that with was being contested with the federal government that insisted it remained closed.

Update August 2014.  Argentina goose hunting remains closed.  So insistent on the federal government that farmers are unable to protect their fragile crops by hazing or even chasing off geese. If the rumor mill is to be believed, it appears that the Queen of Netherlands, an Argentine, is friends with Christina, the president of Argentina, and has "gifted" significant sums of money to ensue that the Argentina goose hunting season remains closed.  This would be absurd were it not for the fact that Netherlands goose hunting, much to their derision, has remained close for a decade due to fervent anti-hunting sentiment in that country.

Update April 2016.  Argentina has elected a new president and we are hopeful that the unjustified closure of the Argentina Goose Hunting season will be repealed in upcoming years.

Ramsey Russell's GetDucks.com

Twin Brothers D’Wight and D’Wayne

Pat Pitt regales the members of L'Anguille Lounge Duck Club, of which he is founder and beloved CEO, with a memorable story from his days as an Arkansas duck guide.  As far as we know, the events of this particular hunt hastened his retirement from guiding!   The video was shot the night preceding the 2008 Arkansas Duck Season in Harrisburg, Arkansas, at Mel Redd's Steak Catering.  Mel's is a local establishment made popular with local duck hunters due to their serving the best damned ribeyes ever to grace a styrofoam plate.  Any plate for that matter.  Duck camp: good times, great food, friends.  Waterfowl - and plenty of them - come later.

Ramsey Russell's GetDucks.com

Pictures Perfect

It's the hunt of a lifetime.  Whether it's your son's first greenhead near home, your best morning hunting ducks in the fabled marshes of Argentina, your Dad's last trip for South Dakota pheasants or what may be your only dove hunt in Cordoba, photographs are the perfect tribute to hunt.  In the fractions of a second that shutters blink, memories that will persist for generations are captured. Keep these tips in mind on your next hunting adventure and you'll produce photos that would make anyone proud.

The Blood Tradition Continues

Mississippi's Youth Deer Season.  After shooting more yesterday than he sometimes does while duck hunting, Duncan convinced me to check the zero on my Grandfather's trusty ol' .308.  It was off.  Way off.  Rezeroed, let him fire a practice round for confidence.  Baby girl went hunting with us that afternoon.  One and a half year-old spike bucks have been deemed cull by MDWFP on our club property.  Perfect.  It walked to within 25 yards and last thing I whispered was that if he missed it wasn't the gun's fault this time.

Baby Girl had stood in the blind so she could see.  The 120-pounder met Jesus the instant Duncan pulled the trigger.  I hit it, Daddy!  And then, to my surprise, came the tears.  First the boy's, then Baby Girl's.   Good.  I think they now properly understand.

A talk - the talk - followed by a couple high-fives.  We climbed down to go see Duncan's trophy. From another blind, Forrest passed on a young, 15-inch six-point, twice.  A sign of the times: he sent me a cell phone pic of the buck, too.  He couldn't lower the boom on a couple wary does, watched turkeys and wished he'd has his airgun to kill the racoon that ambled by.  He and Mom had a great time.  Forrest has two under his belt from preceding seasons.

Duncan was proud to at long last sport the time-honored blood tradition.

Ramsey Russell's GetDucks.com

Sufferin’ Bastard

Sufferin' Bastard by Gil Jackson

An old River Boat Captain on the Mississippi,  Grady Forkum, gave me this recipe many years ago.  I have taken it to all corners of North America on hunting trips; it was very popular at Nash Buckingham's old Beaver Dam Club. It's not moonshine.  It's legal, and easy to prepare if you know what to look for and how to blend it. Three simple ingredients mixed in proper proportion creates this heavenly libation. Here is a passage from an old story I wrote that has the recipe:

Several years ago the Banker and I had become unwitting squires to an old retired waterman.  The Capt'n had been a pilot on the Mississippi River for better than forty years , living a duel life as husband and father between three month stints pushing trade to the delta.  All those long months away from home were hard on the Capt'n, but not without its fair share of rewards.  One of those rewards was being keeper of the key to the vessel's medicine box, and one of the most significant things stored within that box was known by all on board as "Sufferin' Bastard".  It was so named because a crewmen had to be near death for the Capt'n to allow him to partake of it's uncanny healing powers.

The Capt'n passed on his secret to the Banker and I only after we had performed a few chores about his house and barn. It was a matter of fair market value that one should only receive such a time honored formula within the framework of a true southern horse trade.  Once we had fulfilled our commitment to the Capt'n he gave us "THE RECIPE".

He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts before describing his creation. "Men, first off you got to be patient."  Don't rush things 'cause timing is everything.  Do the sweet stuff first, followed by the spicy stuff, then lastly, and most importantly, you gotta' light the fire in it.  Now, if you do exactly as you're instructed you'll find yourself with a gift from The River Gods." The way he started out I couldn't help but ask if he was describing his famous river tonic or his wedding night.  His tone changed to austere when he saw my mind drifting and brought the bow about.  He was in no mood for levity.  After all, you don't want to disclose your trademarked cure-all in a careless manner.

"Look here guys," he said.  "When I'm talking 'bout the sweet stuff, it consists of eight ounces of Grade A clover honey.  The spicy stuff is nothing more than three or four long cinnamon sticks, and the fire in this concoction is one quart of fine bourbon with Kentucky somewhere on its label. It takes a spell for the cinnamon and honey to blend properly with Kentucky's finest export, but once the right ingredients, in due proportion, have been given the time so well deserved, there is hardly an ailment known to mankind that can't be treated. "

I assured the Capt'n that I knew a good bit about Kentucky's artistry with hardwood barrels, and one of my cousins was a bee keeper.  After displaying favor in my response, he continued.

Next he told us to place the ambrosial ingredients in a glass jug, secure the elixir with a tight seal, shake violently for a couple of minutes, then store it in a cool dry place for a year.  At the end of the allotted time open the jug and strain the heavenly libation through cheese cloth to remove any residual wax and what's left of the cinnamon sticks.  The remaining sum total of your efforts will astound your friends and free your tongues for praise when served at room temperature or as a "Hot Christmas Toddy". He finished by saying, " This is for sippin' not drinkin' but if you choose the latter be forewarned it has made grown men run rabbits, and the fairest ladies to loose their resolve."

Capt'n has been gone for many years now, but his river boat elixir has traveled with me far and wide.  Canada to Mexico … Beaver Dam Lake to Reelfoot Lake …. Chesapeake to the prairies of Arkansas , and places in between. I hope the Capt'n is lookin' down smiling every time he sees me start a fresh batch blending.

Ramsey Russell's GetDucks.com

Of Gumbo by Justin Harrison

Thanks to Justin Harrison, locally-renowned retriever trainer, duck and turkey call maker, outdoor photographer, tale teller, reformed beer maker, aspiring taxidermist, consumate barbeque sauce manufacturer, true hunter and friend for allowing us to reprint this at GetDucks.com .  We look forward to his future contributions here and to front-of-the-line placement at his inevitable book signings.   And you can bet we'll not miss any upcoming cookings.  View Justin's traditional artworks at his web page, http://www.8gaugestudios.com/

There have been numerous influences in my life, but very few have been as strong as the little no named duck club which sat under the pin oaks on the banks of the Ouachita River.  So strong in fact that if the wind blows right, I can shut my eyes and see the characters that made that place so special.  Invariably, you notice Jim, "self-proclaimed" best friend of my father.  Yep, there'd Jim be, or as us kids called him "Cajun", fussin over the roux.  He used one cup of flour and ¾ cup of oil, that according to Jim, was "de' perfectest combonasheeon".

2008 Manitoba Hunt Report

There's something about being in Canada during September or October that keeps calling me back for more; that keeps whispering to my subconciousness throughout the year and reminding me of crisp autumn mornings, freshly swathed barley fields, of weathered leaves yellowing by the day.   It's probably those giant, migrator Canadas locking their wings from several hundred yards downwind and sailing majestically into the spread, seemingly suspended, pinned to the blue sky like posters when they've finally finished right above the layout blinds, just hanging there.  If not, then certainly it's the flocks of mallards and pintails that fly off of the small ponds at daylight and swarm the decoys like bees around a hive, or the flocks of snow geese that seem to have seen neither hunter nor decoy before and fly low over the decoys, or land among them.

Manitoba's name is derived of the Algonquian word manitou, meaning spirit.    And I had to wonder: was Louis Riel, founder of the Manitoba Province, and leader of the Metis people of the Canadian prairies, a goose hunter?  Maybe not, but it seems perfectly logical to me that abundant waterfowl had something to do with the name choice.   Manitoba goose hunting does wonder for my spirits.

We arrived for the non-resident Manitoba waterfowl opener, which is always a Monday.  There were plenty of birds to be seen, but the unseasonably warm weather (lows in the 4os and highs in the 60s) combined with ongoing agricultural harvests had the Canada geese, in particular, still widely dispersed in smaller family groups.  Snows and lesser Canadas had begun to make a small showing.  Ducks were plentiful.  Feeding patterns were casual; it'd take some much colder weather to make the birds frantically pour into the fields all day long, and it took good scouting, well-devised game plans and solid shooting to consistently put away birds.

The first morning began with light rainfallwhile putting out decoys in a freshly-swathed barley field.   The farmer had requested hunters to keep the birds off of his livelihood until it the swaths had dried sufficiently to combine.   Within minutes of shooting time, a flurry of ducks bombarded us and we even managed to kill a few.  And then it ended as quickly as it had started.  After 20 or 30 minutes, with no ducks or geese whatsover, a sort of quietness fell over the decoys.

The outfitter broke the silence with a reassurance that the warm weather and clouds had the birds sleeping in and not to worry, that they'd show up. And show up they did!  At precisely 7:35 a.m.

It was like an alarm clock had gone off.  By mid-morning, six limits of ducks were piled behind our respective blinds, and nearly as many greater and lesser Canadas.   We spent the remainder of the day picking birds and preparing jalapeno-cream cheese duck poppers to precede our Canadian dinner fare.

The second morning's weather was similar to the first except that it rained throughout the morning.  During intervals of light wind, the mosquitos took refuge in our layout blinds.  Not that it mattered much: our attentions were on the near-constant flow of snow geese, grays and ducks that trafficked into the spread of 600 silo-socks and kites.  At almost any given time, flocks of geese were working and we shot ducks only when it wasn't likely to spook incoming geese.  the things you see when you're not looking at ducks over a pointed gun barrel: ducks almost knocking your neighbors at off, ducks hovering over the foot of your blind like moths around a dim light, or walking among the decoys.  By the hunt ended we had a nice pile of snows, lesser Canadas and mallards.

The afternoon hunt proved futile with temperatures hovering in the 70s and little wind, but the few ducks that did it, did it big time.  By the time it was dark, we had returned to camp, showered, mixed drinks and finished grilling cayenne-orange-maple duck breasts to share with our growing crowd of friends at the local watering hole. Nearly 70 people showed up for the gathering at the local establishment that night.  In a town of about 250 residents, that's a pretty good showing.  Someone said the next day that 3 bottles of Jagermeister had been depleted.  In addition to beer and other assorted inebriates.  The bar-owner waved off our tab the next day saying only that it was a helluva night, eh, and you boys are welcome back here sooner than later!

You know the week's hunting has been good, and maybe the preceding night a tad too long, when a hunter sleeps in and says he's shot plenty until next year!  So we were a hunter short when we arrived to a clean barley field on the third morning.  Gone were the clouds and rain.  There was a chill in the air.  And a west wind.   For an hour and a half, geese would fly from their roost, over the decoys, turn abruptly and come in with wings cupped and paddles down.  It ended right about the time the sun popped up full over the horizon, perfect timing for our departure to Winnipeg to drop these boys off and pick up new arrivals.

The sun and cooler temps stayed for the remainder of the week.  I greatly enjoyed again seeing the spectacle of Canadian dryfield duck and goose hunting through the eyes of newly-arrived clients.   At this point, I enjoy the people side of it way more than the trigger puling.  The fourth morning was clear again and much cooler.

With very little wind to work with, we placed a small, loose spread of full-body duck and goose decoys with plenty of forward-facing access from almost any direction.  It worked like a charm.  Ducks and geese decoyed perfectly from right, left, forward and rear positions, and everyone had plenty of gunning.  It was over way too soon, but everyone was still grinning ear to ear.

At some point during almost everyone's hunting career comes the realization that ducks and duck hunting the entire world over are just that: ducks and duck hunting.  No guarantees.  Weather, scouting, game plan, luck and ability all factor in to it.  Some days are hunting, and some days are nothing short of spectacular.

Our fifth morning fell well into the latter part of that assesment. It was a few minutes past shooting time before we finished stubbling in the layout blinds and perfectly arranging the spread into position.  For the first time during the week, the wind was howling.  And for the first time during the week, we were glad we'd packed heavy clothes.  It was close to freezing.  We'd no sooner settled into or blinds than someone said geese to the left.  It was game on. The first play consisted of 4 greaters that stayed.  No sooner had Delta brought back 2 than another flock was on the deck.  A few more stayed belly up.

The field had been watched for nearly a week and had started building abruptly when the front started moving in.  From the adjacent slough about a half-mile east, a flock of greaters emerged and started our way.  They turned about 300 yards downwind and started our way.  I counted 9 in all.  They set their wings at about 100 yards, seemed to take forever forthem to sail that distance.  The arrived into the decoys slightly right to left and five, maybe 7 yards off the ground.  All 9 stayed for good.

From up in the stratosphere, a small groups of black dots grew larger.  As they came into focused vision, they materialized as a flock of freshly-arrived lessers.  They cupped the entire way into the decoys, and most hit the ground after the shot was fired.  A quick count was determined, and the father son team from Florida concluded the morning's limit.  The sun was perfectly horizontal when we each hoisted our geese for the photograph. That afternoon found us situated in a narrow finger of swathed barley field that was bordered on three sides by a slough.  The perfect making for an eventful afternoon duck hunt.

The ducks worked beautifully that afternoon.  Everyone got plenty of shooting individually and as a group.  The mallards and pintails arrived in pairs and groups of up to about 1 dozen.   It was leisurely enough that we enjoyed watching each other pick off singles and pairs.  But again, as always, it ended way too quickly.

The final morning was calm and clear.  So calm in fact that after a dozen ducks and as many Canadas,  that had all decoyed beautifully during the first half hour, we abandoned the field spread and retreated to a slough about a quarter-mile north where the ducks had been pouring in all morning.

Having flushed two or three thousand birds when we arrived, we separated into two groups, quickly finished our limit of ducks and picked up 4 more honkers.  It was a perfectly relaxed ending to another stellar Canada hunting trip.  Guests hunting during the week ranged from first-timers to Canada, to experienced clients that had hunted other Canadian provinces, Argentina and Uruguay.  They unanimously agreed that it had been thoroughly enjoyable, had exceeded their expectations, and, too rare these days, provided alot of sugar for their hard-earned dimes.  By the time I had arrived home the next day,  two weeks were already reserved on next year's calendar.  It's that good.

Manitoba Canada Duck and Goose Hunting

Ramsey Russell's GetDucks.com