Field hunt produces after marsh turns hard
MAYVILLE - Marshes are defined as tracts of wetlands, typically with shallow water and growths of grasses or cattails.
Here in the north, they also are among the first waters to freeze when the temperature drops.
It can happen astonishingly fast. Even overnight. Even on the world's largest cattail marsh.
"She's locked up pretty tight," said Bryan Muche, 47, my waterfowl hunting partner on the eve of our annual Nov. 11 outing on Horicon Marsh. "Did you bring creepers and an ice axe?"
Laughter was the best medicine to treat the shock of seeing 33,000 acres of freshly frozen wetland.
Just 24 hours earlier, on the front end of a cold front, hunters had reported great flights of ducks.
The temperature continued to drop, however, and by the next morning the marsh was encased in 1 to 3 inches of crystal.
When Muche and I showed up, one of our favorite access points — Burnett Ditch — might as well have been filled with gravel.
Our camouflaged skiff and small outboard would never make it as an icebreaker.
Besides, the ducks had moved to nearby open waters, including deeper, bigger lakes and flowing rivers.
"Looks like we'll need a Plan B," Muche said.
For the last six years, Muche and I have shared an annual tradition of hunting Horicon Marsh on Armistice Day.
Nov. 11 is a red-letter day in waterfowling history, the date of a massive 1940 storm that killed dozens of hunters and others in the Midwest.
The day started mild and brought a "grand passage" of ducks on a cold front.
In just a few hours, the temperature fell from 50 to below freezing. Hunters described "circus shooting" before the conditions turned deadly.
The storm was so strong it sunk commercial ships on Lake Michigan.
Modern weather forecasting and communication technology assured us there would be no such change in the temperature or winds this year.
But with the marsh locked up, we would have to change our tactics.
Fortunately, we didn't have to look far. And better yet, the solution paid homage to Muche's roots and Horicon's rich waterfowling history.
Muche, who was raised in southern Wisconsin and now lives in Barrington Hills, Ill., learned to love Horicon Marsh by joining his family on hunting outings in the area.
His grandfather, Walter Muche Sr., lived and worked in Mayville and started the family tradition of hunting on the famous wetland.
At one point, Walter Muche Sr. worked as a hunting guide and manager at Goose Haven Gun Club in Mayville.
The club was a hot spot during the marsh's goose hunting hay-days in the 1950s and 60s.
It continues to operate under the ownership of Mike and Monica Brummond. The club maintains about three dozen blinds, available for public rental, on fields on the east side of the marsh.
Bryan Muche called Mike Brummond to see if any blinds were available.
Brummond told us to show up at 5 a.m. Saturday and he'd see what he could do.
The wood stove was stoked inside Goose Haven when we met the Brummonds early the next day.
Outside, it was overcast and 27 degrees; a 10 to 15 mph breeze added a bite to the air.
In the dark of pre-dawn, Brummond directed us to a cut corn field a few miles east of Mayville.
There we met Ross Villwock of Mayville, Brummond's nephew, who was going to hunt with us for the morning.
"It was harvested about a week ago," said Villwock, 19. "Ducks and geese have been feeding here pretty hard the last couple days."
Muche, Villwock and I got busy putting out several dozen decoys and brushing in three layout blinds.
Dutch, Muche's Chesapeake Bay retriever, ran excitedly through the stubble as pink began to peak across the eastern horizon.
The wind was out of the south, mostly, so we faced the blinds to the north.
By legal hunting time, we were on our backs looking up into a woolen, gray sky.
"There's some," Villwock said as a trio of ducks strafed our spread.
The light was so dim, and the ducks moved so fast, that we didn't take a shot.
Ten minutes later, a single duck crossed into the spread from the northeast. It was large, brown and darkbreasted, an American black duck.
Muche and I shot simultaneously, and Dutch made the first retrieve of the day.
The drake black duck was plump and in terrific condition; I was already imagining it served, roasted, on a platter.
The next half hour brought four more flocks that decoyed in textbook fashion.
"Would you look at that?" Muche said as 20 mallards set wings and drifted down over our blinds.
For a waterfowl hunter, few sights are as rewarding as wild ducks maple-leafing into a spread.
Dutch scampered out and brought in several mallards as well as another black duck.
About a dozen flocks of sandhill cranes also passed overhead.
"The cranes usually fly before the geese," Villwock said.
He was right. Twenty minutes later, flocks of Canada geese began tracing the sky.
At 9 a.m. a pair of geese came directly to our spread from the east.
Muche, holder of Horicon Zone goose tags, showed his shooting skill and Dutch was soon at work bringing two giant birds to hand.
The honkers were the first Muche had shot at Horicon since he was 14 while hunting with his grandfather, Walter Muche Sr.
The duck flights diminished in midmorning and we packed up at 10 a.m.
Muche, Villwock and I each had three ducks (seven mallards and two black ducks).
And Muche had the two geese. The number of birds in the bag never is the full measure of a hunt, however.
"Must have been something about the company, the calling and the connection to Goose Haven and memories of my grandfather," Muche said. "The waterfowl hunting karma was with us today."