The Armchair Outfitter

- Raimey looks on as Kirk “explains” a wild melon to young Purdey. Note the orange check-cord for field training.

Sunday, November 5, 2006

Today is Kirk’s birthday, and we mark the occasion by singing to him at 4:00 A.M. What we lack in pitch control, we make up with enthusiasm. I am certain that he appreciates the serenade, though he does conceal it well. The day dawns cold and windy, and two of us have to answer nature’s call by the time we get to the campground. This is noteworthy only because it is a paperwork job, and the only “convenience” available is an enclosed toilet with about a twelve foot tall, large-diameter standpipe for ventilation. I am forewarned that the seat is cold. Just when I’m thinking that it’s not as bad as advertised, I hear the frigid wind outside pick up with a howl. There’s a lump in my throat as I head back toward the truck, and I’m pretty sure I used to pee with it.

We make a short run through the CRP grass and then drop off into the basin. As usual, this is straight up, straight down stuff, and before long I’m exhausted. I’m starting to think this hunt will be a replay of last year when I wasn’t anywhere near keeping up with the group. Before long I am walking by myself, as I have somehow gotten on the wrong side of an impenetrable stand of cane and cattails. Nasty feelings of self-doubt start to take hold, as I haul myself to high ground so that I can get my bearings. Stopping to catch my breath, I notice great Vs of geese passing overhead so high above me that their cacophonous honks are barely audible. Scanning the clearing, I see two whitetail does about 150 yards away from me. Although I’m making no particular effort to be still, they are more interested in two bucks that are about 200 yards to my opposite side than they are in whatever I might be doing. I decide to see just how close the does will get to a man standing in an open field, and they run within 20 yards of me before the lead doe throws on the brakes. It’s like I’ve stepped into the Outdoor Channel. Suddenly I don’t feel so bad about myself or what I’m doing out here.

I decide to make a big circle back to the parking area, and I’m just easing along when something explodes out of the grass almost at my feet. It’s a rabbit, and I remember someone saying the night before that rabbits are in season, although it would be extremely poor form to shoot one in front of the dogs. There are no dogs around, so I decide to let him have it. One, two, three, four times I slap the trigger, each time eliciting a puff of dust right behind the speedster. He’s close, and the pattern of #4s from the modified choke tube is small. I almost don’t fire the fifth and final shot, but what the heck, I’ve already embarrassed myself. At least the bolt will hang open and it will be easier to reload. The fifth shot is the charm, though, and I see the rabbit flipping and flopping on the other side of some low brush.

As I approach to end his misery, I notice that something is amiss. He’s a big joker, bigger than all but the largest of the “swampers” we have at home. I’ve seen jackrabbits in Texas when I was a boy, and I realize that instead of the King of all Cottontails, I’ve bagged a juvenile jack-hopper. This, as my Papaw would say, brings on more talk. That guy last night didn’t say anything about jackrabbits, did he? I’m suddenly faced by a dilemma brought on by my ignorance of the small game laws. I’m unwilling to leave the animal having killed it, so I figure I’ll have to take my lumps if I’m in the wrong. Until I find out what the score is, though, I’m not exactly advertising. It’s gotten warm by now, so I wrap the jackrabbit in my coat. Note to self: jackrabbits are heavy. When I get back to the truck, there is a mob at the parking area where we were the only vehicle this morning. I slide the coat and its possibly contraband cargo into the truck bed and hope that all the dogs around will not raise too much of a ruckus.

When the rest of our bunch returns, Kirk and one of the KS dogs have been sprayed by a skunk. Their efforts to “step back in their own tracks,” as Kirk puts it, were unsuccessful. I couldn’t be more relieved when I casually mention jackrabbits to the KS guys, and one of them notes that there is no closed season on them. Many farmers consider them a nuisance. Whew, not going to jail in Kansas! Can I get an amen?

We walk the milo and wheat stubble in the afternoon, and I am hating the weight of my shotgun. Purdey is so tired she goes back to the truck, and that makes me feel better. If you’ve walked that dog into the ground, you’ve done something. Rudy and the KS bunch leave after this run, and I skip the last foray of the day. It has turned off unseasonably hot, and I am concerned about the jackrabbit spoiling.

I field dress the rabbit on an old log with my pocket knife. A half-empty bottle of water from the truck provides a quick rinse for both of us, and he goes into the cooler. I watch an owl hunt in the tall grass as I wait for a cell phone call to drive around to the other parking area to pick up the rest of the team. As it turns out, Raimey has forgotten to take his phone with him, and it is well after dark when the guys return. Tired and smelling bad, we head back to the hotel to finish cleaning the jack-hopper and the three pheasants that represent the day’s total take. We must switch hotels in the morning, and we are all grateful for the necessity of lounging in bed until 6:00 A.M.

Let me begin by saying that after practicing basic gun safety, the most important thing one can do in the shooting sports is to protect one’s hearing. Eye protection is crucial as well, but with every unprotected shot the ears take a pounding. When I was younger and dumber than I am now, my friends and I used to go through a box or two of clay birds without ear protection of any kind. After the first few shots, you “get used to it,” i.e., you have enough short-term hearing loss that the gun’s report doesn’t bother you as much anymore. After all, you’re not going to be wearing earplugs when you’re hunting, right? What we didn’t realize then was that in addition to the temporary effects which were ameliorated after a day or so, we were also doing incremental damage to our hearing that might never reverse.

I have come full circle on this issue over the years, and I often wear foam earplugs when upland hunting. Yes, it is more difficult to hear if someone at a distance calls a bird that is flying my way, and it is also more difficult to hear the rustling of wings that is usually the hunter’s first clue that a bird is about to launch. That is, it is more difficult for the first few shots. If there is a lot of shooting on a given hunt, I notice that my hearing tends to be roughly equivalent to that of my friends after they’ve loosed a few rounds with no plugs. I dislike the “plugged up” feeling that comes from having the foam plugs inserted for any length of time, however, and I often try to minimize the unpleasant sensation and maintain some level of hearing protection by partially inserting the foam plugs. The results are less than satisfactory.

I have read about earplugs featuring a baffle design that purports to allow for normal conversation while blocking high impulse noises like gunfire. These are a simple mechanical design, not to be confused with much more expensive models that accomplish the same effect electronically. I have always been skeptical of the manufacturers’ claims, however, and I have never tried a pair until now. Shopping at a Mossy Oak Outlet store near my home, I saw the Radians product featured here for only $6.99. I figured that now was the time to give baffle plugs a try. If I liked them, then I’d have discovered a good product at a low price. If they were junk, I’d at least have the opportunity to tell all of y’all to save your money.

Inspecting the packaging on returning from the store, I discovered that the plugs have a noise reduction rating (NRR) of only six decibels, which is not very impressive. I read on, and discovered that the EPA noise reduction rating is only an effective measurement of a device’s attenuation of continuous noise, and did not therefore reflect how effective the plugs might be at muffling impulse noise like gunfire. I put the plugs in and wore them around the house for a while. The plastic is harder than that of the foam or silicone plugs to which I am accustomed, so I immediately didn’t like these as much from a comfort standpoint. I could still hear the television fairly well, though, and more importantly I could still hear the Sporting Wife asking me if I was trying to tell her something by wearing them. They also largely eliminated the claustrophobic feeling I get wearing a standard earplug.

At the range, I fired about a box through my 12 gauge, and the Radians earplugs really came into their own. The noise level when firing was comparable to full foam plugs, but in between shots I was able to clearly hear the Sporting Wife complaining about the hand thrower we were using. At one point, I wished I had brought the full foam plugs along for “comparison” purposes. Seriously, the Radians product worked as advertised. The plastic could be softer, but they were a good value for the money and a good introduction to sound baffle technology for me cialis super active online. Check ‘em out!

I thought y’all might like to see what things look like from my perspective.