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Why Are Pintails So Great?

9K views 76 replies 25 participants last post by  Pipeliner 
#1 ·
Not only are they one of the best looking ducks, they are one of the best eating as well. More times than not there will be a Pintail or two in my photos. These magnificent birds love to decoy, making for some excellent shot opportunities. I almost feel bad when I shoot a drake Pintail before mid to late December, because they haven't plumed fully and their sprigs are short. There really isn't a prettier duck than a full plumed Pintail, in my opinion. They are certainly one of my favorites.

Pretty random post I know, but enough of the Corona, politics and race riots. I'm ready to start reading hunt stories and seeing some photos again.
 

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#5 ·
I agree Rob! Just got mine back from Longun about a month ago. Only bird I insisted my wife will HAVE to look at in our living room 🤣 She had no choice in the matter... I had no choice but to put the snow I picked up at the same time in my work office.
 

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#7 ·
To me they are the most beautiful bird out there. They are so streamlined and aerobatic. When they commit they come in hot. I love just watching them. They usually start their courtship flights about the last week of the goose season. Simply spectacular.

Even with the low limit we are just lucky to watch the show.
 

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#20 ·
To me they are the most beautiful bird out there. They are so streamlined and aerobatic. When they commit they come in hot. I love just watching them. They usually start their courtship flights about the last week of the goose season. Simply spectacular.

Even with the low limit we are just lucky to watch the show.
That has to be the best looking Shnapps drake I've seen. Very rare at times in the marsh. They are flavorful, but, to much makes you sick.
 
#11 ·
In the late 70's, in California, the year I got my hunting license, if the wind was blowing on a Weds. morning in November, my dad would check me out of school at lunchtime and we'd drive the hour or so to Los Banos WMA.

It was open Weds., Sat., and Sunday. The CA refuge system -O,-. They had a lottery reservation system and a wait line.

Getting there at 1 PM, we'd wait for someone to come off parking area #2.
The wind would get the waves going at San Luis Reservoir, and the pintail would come off it and out to the WMA.

One perfect afternoon with me and my dad, his friend, Rob, and the dog, we sat in the tules while huge flocks of pintails wheeled and cupped into the decoys.
We would mouth whistle to them. We'd pick our shots, and the grownups were patient with me.

3 minutes to sundown, we were one short of our limit.
A single came in, totally committed. My dad said take it- I rose up with my break open, single shot 20 gauge, and drilled it.

3 limits! 20 drake pintails, and the hen I shot a minute before closing light.

I remember it like it was yesterday, and I will never see it again.
 
#14 ·
Speaking of Pintail ducks...

Tumbleweed Wall

All we saw was three or four ducks settling into a harvested corn field a couple hundred yards from where we parked. The pre-sunrise morning light barely enough to spot the cupped wings as the ducks dropped onto the mist covered field. Separating us and the field, the old barbed wire fence was completely covered with tumbleweeds and provide the perfect cover for the two young boys to make a sneak on the field that was hidden behind.
It would be a little over fifty years ago this fall, maybe around 1959 or 1960, that a couple of young brothers arose early one November morning, loaded up there gear and headed out for a morning jump shoot of ducks. The two had never ventured out on their own before. Always in the past, dad would be there with his guiding hand. This was the first of a lifetime of hunts together, the first of a lifetime of memories, a beginning page in a book who's last page has yet to be penned.
Shepard's Lane, today lined with homes, and intersections leading to vast sub-divisions of track homes, was once, not too long ago, very rural, and very much a place that ducks would come to feed in the grains fields after a short flight from the smashes of the Great Salt Lake. Flocks of Mallards and Pintails were not an uncommon sight, and presented too great a lure to just be ignored by these two boys.
Jim, the older brother, would shoot his new Winchester model 12, 12 gauge shotgun and Newt, not yet the owner of a gun of his own, would shoot dad's Winchester model 42, .410, the gun that all us brothers used to learn to shoot. The morning was calm and crisp as we loaded the guns and prepared to make the short sneak across the near field that separated us from the field holding the birds. As we walked, we spaced ourselves a little to make room to move and we hoped we would arrive at the right place to jump the ducks that lay hidden behind the tumbleweed wall. It was our plan that Jim would shoot the birds, if any, that jumped on the right and I would shoot the birds, if any, that jumped on the left. And so we crouched and started our sneak. I still remember the wet grass squeaking on my boots and the silence of that dewy morning, hoping the birds would hold long enough for us to make our sneak. I remember hoping there would be more than one or two birds jump within range of me and the little .410 that I carried, and I hoping I could knock one down. I remember being a young boy, that beautiful fall morning. We crept across the field like little mice and reached the fence, that tumbleweed wall, without stirring a bird...and then we stood up...and as we stood, the field erupted into a frenzy of motion and noise as literally thousands of birds began to take flight. What we assumed was a small field with a handful of feeding ducks was instead a giant field of maybe 50 acres, covered with hundreds and hundreds of Pintail ducks. At first only the nearby birds began to rise, quacking that familiar startled quack, but when we both gathered in our wits and fired our guns, the enormity of the flock prevailed and the sky became black with birds. Jim's first bird dropped, as did mine, and then, my world stood still, the roar of beating wings and quacking ducks became mute...the little .410 had jammed in my trembling hands. I lowered the jammed gun and placed the butt on my leg and forcefully worked the action, ejecting the jammed round. But as I brought the pump forward, in the excitement of the event, I had kept my finger on the trigger and as the action slammed shut, off went the shotgun...and to my surprise, down came two more ducks. The field quickly emptied as did our guns and we stood by the side of that tumbleweed wall shaking, two happy brothers, two happy friends for life.

Copyright 2002, BPturkeys
 
#27 ·
I was very lucky to encounter this pintail on the last day of the 2014 - 2015 season. Banded at Clear Lake in 2010, hatched 2009 or earlier.

I joked with my dad that I had reached the pinnacle of my hunting career at that moment. Maybe so - I'm not sure I'll ever harvest a more memorable bird.
 

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#28 ·
I can't top that day! Thats amazing!

My best day hunting pinnys was in November of 2019. We had them decoying all day. Snow squals and wind. The pinnys would hover over the spinner because the wind was so strong and we could pick the sprigs we wanted to shoot. The dog was on point with her retrieves that day too!
 

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#30 ·
Here's a memorable to me mixed bag from 2011. It was a pintail show that day. We were licking our chops watching them come in wave after wave. They were hitting the flats on a afternoon thaw.

I bought that coffee mug at Cabelas in Sidney in 1995. A dear old friend that's been everywhere lol.
If that's a Ross on the left that is the winner in that pic. Very cool!
 
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