Dumbass people I have hunted with

[Throbbin Rods]

3 of us were going to set up a cornfield right next to a small river. Plan was to hide in the bushes on the riverbank like every other time we hunted this spot. One of the guys showed up with this dickhead engineer we worked with. Huge bright yellow bag with his gear in it. He hunts maybe once a year, but he decided to go rearrange the decoys until I wold him to get the hell away from them. Then he lays his yellow bag out and lays down in the decoys. Yellow showing about a foot all around him. What the hell are you doing? This is the only place we could hit them from. Bull. Dan, get over here you freakin moron. Pouts, but finally brings his crap over there and sits about 3 feet from me. Ugh. Then he starts in, this is too far, you are the only one who will be able to hit them because you have a 3-1/2" gun. Dan, shut up. If you can't hit them at 35-40 yards with the 3" stuff you have bigger problems than an extra 1/2. First flock of the day and I was calling my teeth loose. Put the right in front of us feet down, wings cupped, 30-32 yards. He jumps out of the bushes when I called the shot and screws me up so I have no safe shot. My Gus dog retrieved the dead and wounded and then I started picking up my decoys. Where you going? Somewhere this friggin idiot isn't! He wouldn't talk to me at work that Monday, best day of the whole week. I told Henry if he ever brought that dick on another hunt I was at there would be trouble.

[Flyway Stalker]

My buddy invited a guy along this year who jumps in the blind with black ski pants and a bright orange coat on. Told him that aint going to work and made him take it off, at least he had a green sweatshirt on underneith the coat, still froze his ass off, bet he don't make that mistake again.

[Bud]

My partner of three generations of Golden Retrievers passed on to the skies filled with ducks. Had to go through a few looking for that right partner. This one guy looked as if he might work out, so I was thrilled.

Bluebird day with no wind had us twiddling our thumbs, but somebody else's duck would appear every now and then to let us practice our calling to no avail. There were no motions back then, save a floating mallard armed with batteries that caused a weight to spin in circles. It put out circular ripples around its location, but usually spun too fast til the batteries were low. Occasional coots fed by, paying us little mind.

Low and behold, I saw a duck coming from his end giving us a low flyby of about 5' off the water. It was a Bufflehead hen, and a smaller one at that. When I used to announce a duck's presence, my old partner knew to ease his head to see where I was looking, as I usually did unless they were much closer(when I pointed or gave him details previously arranged).

I decided to give this duck a flyby, as there were three or four big ducks on the water nearby I had high hopes of coming to the minimal calling.

Me: Bufflehead hen, with low excitement.
Friend: no response, until a few seconds later...
Friend: duck!
I looked slowly up to see what he was talking about so excitedly.

A little bit about how we were hunting at the time: we were hunting from a 14' aluminum boat with a blind on it: no top. He was to my left; I , to his right. We always sit off the seats, in front of them, on buckets with padded swivel seats. The bird was coming by us out front about the time I looked up: looking for his duck. Back to the hunt...

While I was looking for the bird he was telling me about, he shot while sitting down at the Bufflehead hen. By then, the bird was leaving stage right and still low. One of my spoken rules is where the 12 o'clock position is and how nobody crosses that line unless the birds are overhead and high enough to make it a safe shot.

The muzzle blast from his shorty 10 gauge hit the left side of my face. I rolled with the punch, so to speak, and hit the bottom of the boat. I said something to him as I was getting up; well, maybe a few things in an unfriendly manner. His answer? "I said to duck!"

I've heard jokes about something like that before, but this was the real deal. Have tinnitus in my left ear.....all the time. I got out the boat and started taking in my decoys. He stated it was only 8:30 and we could hunt til twelve. I simply told him this:
"You and I are THROUGH. Start taking the blind down while I get the decoys." Yes, we were through! Wouldn't really call him a dumbass, but what he did rated him for it. Be safe out there.

[Rick]

Ouch.

[Woody]

3 of us were going to set up a cornfield right next to a small river. Plan was to hide in the bushes on the riverbank like every other time we hunted this spot. One of the guys showed up with this dickhead engineer we worked with. Huge bright yellow bag with his gear in it. He hunts maybe once a year, but he decided to go rearrange the decoys until I wold him to get the hell away from them. Then he lays his yellow bag out and lays down in the decoys. Yellow showing about a foot all around him. What the hell are you doing? This is the only place we could hit them from. Bull. Dan, get over here you freakin moron. Pouts, but finally brings his crap over there and sits about 3 feet from me. Ugh. Then he starts in, this is too far, you are the only one who will be able to hit them because you have a 3-1/2" gun. Dan, shut up. If you can't hit them at 35-40 yards with the 3" stuff you have bigger problems than an extra 1/2. First flock of the day and I was calling my teeth loose. Put the right in front of us feet down, wings cupped, 30-32 yards. He jumps out of the bushes when I called the shot and screws me up so I have no safe shot. My Gus dog retrieved the dead and wounded and then I started picking up my decoys. Where you going? Somewhere this friggin idiot isn't! He wouldn't talk to me at work that Monday, best day of the whole week. I told Henry if he ever brought that dick on another hunt I was at there would be trouble.

Hey! What does him being an engineer have to do with it?

[Woody]

My partner of three generations of Golden Retrievers passed on to the skies filled with ducks. Had to go through a few looking for that right partner. This one guy looked as if he might work out, so I was thrilled.

Bluebird day with no wind had us twiddling our thumbs, but somebody else's duck would appear every now and then to let us practice our calling to no avail. There were no motions back then, save a floating mallard armed with batteries that caused a weight to spin in circles. It put out circular ripples around its location, but usually spun too fast til the batteries were low. Occasional coots fed by, paying us little mind.

Low and behold, I saw a duck coming from his end giving us a low flyby of about 5' off the water. It was a Bufflehead hen, and a smaller one at that. When I used to announce a duck's presence, my old partner knew to ease his head to see where I was looking, as I usually did unless they were much closer(when I pointed or gave him details previously arranged).

I decided to give this duck a flyby, as there were three or four big ducks on the water nearby I had high hopes of coming to the minimal calling.

Me: Bufflehead hen, with low excitement.
Friend: no response, until a few seconds later...
Friend: duck!
I looked slowly up to see what he was talking about so excitedly.

A little bit about how we were hunting at the time: we were hunting from a 14' aluminum boat with a blind on it: no top. He was to my left; I , to his right. We always sit off the seats, in front of them, on buckets with padded swivel seats. The bird was coming by us out front about the time I looked up: looking for his duck. Back to the hunt...

While I was looking for the bird he was telling me about, he shot while sitting down at the Bufflehead hen. By then, the bird was leaving stage right and still low. One of my spoken rules is where the 12 o'clock position is and how nobody crosses that line unless the birds are overhead and high enough to make it a safe shot.

The muzzle blast from his shorty 10 gauge hit the left side of my face. I rolled with the punch, so to speak, and hit the bottom of the boat. I said something to him as I was getting up; well, maybe a few things in an unfriendly manner. His answer? "I said to duck!"

I've heard jokes about something like that before, but this was the real deal. Have tinnitus in my left ear.....all the time. I got out the boat and started taking in my decoys. He stated it was only 8:30 and we could hunt til twelve. I simply told him this:
"You and I are THROUGH. Start taking the blind down while I get the decoys." Yes, we were through! Wouldn't really call him a dumbass, but what he did rated him for it. Be safe out there.

I'm going to be honest with you, I couldn't even follow that story.

[Throbbin Rods]

We were all young and fairly new to the sport. Three of us were sneaking up on a flock of black ducks around an island in the Connecticut River. I was in the front of the canoe. Gun safety and common sense dictates that I would be the one to take a shot. The Gun Safety trained Police Officer in the middle seat stuck his gun straight out so the muzzle was next to my ear and pulled off on the ducks at about 55 yards. Dropped my gun, dropped to the bottom of the canoe. Reeling, I asked if I was shot. I could faintly hear the guy in the back screaming at the guy in the middle. When I could again hear and operate, I simply said, "Take me to the boat launch." When we got there I grabbed a fistful of the idiot's shirt and hoisted him up, got right in his face and told him that I never wanted to see him withing 1/2 mile of me with a gun in his hands. That was more than 30 years ago and I still won't hunt with the guys if he is going to be there.

[Olly]

I think we all have a story about someone shooting to close to our heads. I ended a hunt with a friend one time over it and we never ended up hunting together again. Even though I lost a hunting partner, for all I know I saved my own life by not going back out with someone who is that careless with a firearm.