So, in mid-September, we flew to Winnipeg and joined up with the South Carolina party. Bob had his Beechcraft King Air twin turbo-prop while Tim was flying his new Cessna Citation jet. Flying those aircraft, it was only another 90 minutes before we had landed at the gravel airstrip at Cumberland House and transferred to fast boats for the last leg of the journey to Mistik Lodge.

Mistik Lodge itself is located on the banks of the North Saskatchewan River in the heart of the Cumberland House Delta and is on the edge of a marsh that extends to an area almost 100 miles by 30 miles. At this time of year, the marsh holds about 10 million ducks, principally mallard, pintail, greenwing teal, bluewing teal, American wigeon, shoveler and gadwall. The Lodge is run by Gary Carriere who, like his staff of guides and housekeepers, is a Cree Indian with an immense knowledge of the area and it wildlife.

The Lodge has a main cabin with lounge, dining and kitchen facilities and there are three 4-person cabins for guests. The food was absolutely amazing - both in quality and quantity! Because much of the marsh is too shallow to navigate by boats, the Lodge uses three airboats (Florida Everglades style) to take hunters out to meet the ducks. Garry has perfected a portable blind arrangement consisting of a galvanised frame that sits in the marsh. A plywood floor is placed on the frame and a padded swivel seat and a cartridge tray are fitted to stems welded to the frame. Using those devices, a two-person hide can be constructed in the reeds in a matter of minutes.

A typical day at the Lodge would involve being awakened by the cabin stove being stoked by Walter the odd-job man at 4.30 a.m., after which a quick snack would be consumed while discussing the morning's plans. Two pairs of hunters per airboat would then set out and each pair would be dropped off at a prime location where the guide would build a two-person hide, set out the decoys and then depart in the airboat to do the same for the other pair. Sunrise at such a northerly latitude was always spectacular and, before long, the ducks would be trading back and forward across the marsh. Mallard and pintail often required to be called to attract their attention to the decoys but wigeon and teal frequently arrived unannounced and the first we would see of them would be the realisation that some additional fowl were swimming amongst the decoys.

Morning flight would usually last about 3½ hours and then the airboat would return, the guide would pick up the shot ducks, retrieve the decoys and dismantle the platforms and seats. Back at the Lodge a really hearty breakfast would be waiting (8 eggs, 4 pancakes, half a dozen sausages and several rashers of crispy bacon per hunter was just for starters!). Stories from the morning flight would be swapped and some lesser mortals might decide to catch a nap or consume a crate of Bud while breakfast settled. For the more active, there could be a choice of going fishing for walleye and northern pike or trying to walk-up some sharptailed grouse to pass a few hours before it was time for evening flight. Even moose hunting with a bow and arrow was on the agenda for those so inclined (The rifle season had not yet opened.).

Evening flight followed the same pattern as morning flight but the intensity tended to increase as darkness fell. We had one really spectacular evening when I was sharing a hide with Al Bullington. We were hidden in a clump of reeds close to the edge of the "Big Water" - several thousand acres that, had it been more than a few inches deep, would have been classified as a lake - and we had a constant influx of mallard and wigeon for the better part of three hours. Latterly we simply stopped shooting and had a great time competing to see whose calling skills were most acceptable to the fowl.

At night, back in camp, there was a great deal of story-telling, liquor-consuming and joke-relating. Dinner was always a massive and leisurely affair and, on clear nights, we could marvel at the Northern Lights dancing across the sky. Being hundreds of miles from the nearest street lights resulted in the sky being inky-black and the stars shining with an intensity never seen in Britain.

One highlight of the trip was having a duck "stolen" by a Golden Eagle. It was a morning flight and the sunrise had been especially brilliant (in fact, the photo on the Front Page of this website was taken that morning). I was sharing a hide with Tony and we had been shooting well for a couple of hours. Although there was no current in the water at that part of the marsh, there was a strong westerly wind and the dead ducks which had fallen into the water around our hide gradually drifted eastwards in the wind. before long, we had a "litter" of ducks spread out from the hide for a distance of two or three hundred yards downwind. Once the sun was fairly high in the sky, a golden eagle started surveying our section of marsh and the sound of gunshots did not seem to worry it at all. It made several passes over our ribbon of floating ducks before stooping down magnificently and picking a shot mallard from the water in its talons.

We really could not grudge such a noble bird an easy breakfast. There were also Bald Eagles seen over the marsh from time to time but they lack the splendour and grace of the larger Golden. It did occur to me to think how typically American it was for the USA to adopt the Bald Eagle - a scavenging carrion eater more akin to a vulture than a real eagle - as its "national" bird when they could have opted for the infinitely superior Golden Eagle. Such masters of the art of understatement are the Yanks! (Just joking!)

As always happens, our week was over far too quickly but we will never forget the time spent wildfowling with the Cree Indians at Mistik Lodge.

At Home in Scotland

South Carolina, 1995

Delta Marsh, Manitoba, 1996, 1997, 1998