The Tradition Continues!

Last weekend, my son Matt and I headed out of Helena about 5am toward Freezout Lake Wildlife Management Area (WMA), near Fairfield, Montana. That Saturday was the beginning of the 2009 waterfowl season in Montana. And for me, it was the continuation of a tradition that now entered its fifth decade. By no measure could I be considered a fanatic or even an avid waterfowl hunter. But this place and this tradition flow in my blood. Some of the great memories that these opening days have etched into my brain over these 42 years have faded a bit, but others are still vivid. They will likely remain with me and hopefully sometimes evoke a chuckle for all of my remaining years. As I recall, the only opening day I missed during those many years was 1977 - when daughter Melissa was due to enter the world sometime during October. She waited until mid-November!

This Freezout Lake opening day waterfowl hunt tradition began in 1968 with my brother Cliff. Over the ensuing years, various other friends and family joined in, and most subsequently bowed out for various reasons, too often because they are no longer with us - except in spirit. One of the first to join us was John Beitenduefel, a giant of a man with a heart and repertoire of jokes just as big. He always kept us laughing, sometimes not intentionally. One time John followed us out into the marsh wearing an old pair of felt-soled hip boots - with the felt worn off but rubber rims remaining. Cliff and I reached our usual hunting spots about as shooting hours began, but John was no where to be seen in the dim light. After a while we could hear someone cussing and struggling to make it thru the marsh. Of course, it was John. His felt-less hip boots were acting like suction cups in the famous Freezout mud. A usual 20-minute walk turned into an energy sapping effort for our favorite comic. After catching his breath, John joined us in laughter, and the story was retold for many years thereafter. Opening day 1992 was the last time I hunted Freezout with John. The fact that he had to stop to catch his breath several times that morning while walking a road out to our chosen hunting spot should have given me and our other hunting partners a clue. About 3 weeks later, while John was teaching some young kids how to hunt safely, he died of a heart attack at age 57!

We were fortunate enough to have our father join us for many Freezout opening day hunts. One of the more memorable ones was in the mid-1980's. At that time in his life, his eyesight was temporarily compromised because of cataracts, and he could see very little out of his dominant right eye. The solution? Shoot left handed! This is a very difficult adjustment for someone to make who has been shooting right-handed 70 or more years. We were fortunate that morning to find an area on the marsh where the mallards wanted to land and feed. As they approached us we called out their direction, and Dad had a respectable day - shooting left handed! His last day on the marsh with us was 1988.

Cliff's son Steve joined us for the tradition when he turned 12 years old in 1974. Those first several years of waterfowling can be tough on young hunters as they learn to connect with the fast flying birds. Matt's first year was 1992, and he struggled as well with hitting birds. But learn they did. In the image below, the leather strap Matt is using to carry his ducks was made by Dad out of some moose hide about 1980 or so.And these days, the success rate of bagging birds has shifted in their favor! Steve continues with the tradition when work responsibilities don't interfere, and hopefully Matt and I will continue for as long as my legs are able to master the mud in the marsh. Good friend Vern Schneider was the latest member to accompany us. Although he has not been able to join us for the past several years, hopefully he will return to join us when his ensuing retirement comes to be next year.

Over the years, my love affair with this marsh and the tradition have evolved. At first, bagging a bunch of birds may have dominated my/our enjoyment. As the years passed, love of the marsh and its biota, friendship and camaraderie, and watching our dogs retrieve birds took their rightful place. The gorgeous sunrises that often accompany opening morning speak for themselves. And Freezout is not just an opening day experience. Toward early November, when waters farther to the north in Canada freeze up, tundra swans and white geese use Freezout as a way-point on their long journey south. Laying on a dike on a "bluebird" day watching tens of thousands of geese pouring into the lakes and marshes of Freezout is a sight to behold. From many thousands of feet high, their V-formations disintegrate into a mass of twisting and turning white bodies as they spiral downward toward a much needed rest.

While Freezout Lake WMA was established primarily for habitat protection, and for hunters and hunting, it has taken on a new dimension in relatively recent years. Fall waterfowl migrations are a great natural phenomenon, but springtime brings an even greater spectacle of nature. Numbers of geese and ducks and swans using this area sometimes reach into the hundreds of thousands in spring. And a new tradition has now begun for many Montanans and others from out of state. A late March or early April visit to Freezout is now penned on many calendars to remind folks that the white geese and swans will be stopping here in huge numbers, and it is time to plan a trip there. The upsurge of interest in birding has also changed the visitation pattern to the area. Over 200 species of birds have been recorded as migrating through and/or breeding at Freezout. I frequently visit in late spring just to enjoy the many different species found breeding there and in late summer to revel in the the concentrations of shorebirds frequently found on the mudflats. Indeed, even on opening day, my binoculars are now often focused on winged visitors other than waterfowl.

Were we successful on our hunt last weekend? That depends on how one measures success! From my present day perspective, any day spent with friends and/or family in an outdoor setting like Freezout is immeasurably successful, regardless whether or not any game are harvested!

Over the past decade or so, my interest in hunting - and for that matter fishing - has waned to the point that other outdoor interests now dominate my days. But Freezout has become an integral component of my mind and flows pretty much continuously in my blood. May my last days - hopefully many years from now - be spent enjoying and absorbing the wonders of this very special place!