The plan for day 3 was a morning dove hunt in close to town and an afternoon duck blast on some fresh water ponds. Wakeup was a leisurely 6 AM for breakfast, and by 7:30 we were at the dove fields on an estancia of pure bred Charloais. The hunt was again over standing sorghum and low and behold my bird boy turned out to be Pancho, who had hunted with me last year. He remembered me with a big grin and a remembrance of muchos palomas from our last hunt. As it turned out, Will got Frog again, his bird boy from two years ago, and Frog was anxiously looking forward to shooting Will's gun again.

Pancho had me set up in the shade of a tree line, and it was just moments until the dance started with welotas zipping, bobbing, and weaving all around. My ole Beneli was sprouting fire as I turned it loose. I quickly had Pancho on the run, collecting all the birds I dumped in the sorghum. By then all guns were in action and it sounded like a genuine revolution in progress.

'Bout 8 AM, I heard the distant call of "Palomas Blancas" and turned to see high flying clouds of whitewings approaching the fields. These flights suddenly turned bottom up and dove for the ground, leveling out at eye level. Hundreds of flights of 50-100 birds barreled in, jinking and jagging at full bore. As they approached, it was difficult at best to single out one bird, and if I was lucky, I could pull one down before they came barreling by on afterburner.

I started picking off birds right and left as flock after flock rolled in like feathered bullets. Pancho was running himself ragged picking up birds, as I had over 50 down in 45 minutes. There seemed to be no letup or shortage of doves and it looked to be sure we were back into those "Darten Foker" German doves. Howsomever, that didn't detract from my shooting % which edged up considerably from the first day.

'Bout 10 AM Will and Hugo came by to visit and horn in on my shooting. We got three abreast and really started to knock them down, keeping all three birdboys busy. Ole Hugo could shoot, I'll tell ya, in spite of his finger,and today, Ole Will weren't so bad as usual. By 11 AM we were about spent and out of bullets when German started to collect everybody. I had over 140, Hugo had about the same, and Will had about 40. Frank was shooting down the field from us and had 187. All toll, between 7 of us, we had around 700 birds. All gathered up we took some group pictures before heading to a good lunch and a siesta.

After a good laydown, we loaded up for the afternoon duck shoot. Frank had us paired up two by and I got to hunt with California Pete. South and West of town we went, to a big irrigation canal. Adjacent to the canal were miles and miles of prime farmland that were irrigated from the canal. In low areas, runoff irrigation had formed shallow ponds that were covered up in ducks. The pateros had set up brush blinds along the pond edges.German dropped Pete and me off at our blind, then moved Hugo & Will and the Montana boys off to their ponds.

No sooner were we situated in our blind, our patero started to walk around the pond edge, scarring up clouds of birds. Ducks of all kinds, Mallards, Pintails, Bluebills, Teal, Peachy Willows, and more clouded the sky. Pretty quick, some peeled off to attack our blind, swinging around to come into the wind from our back. Pete and I opened up as they set their wings and we went to hammering on successive groups that pitched to us. In a half hour we had 25 or more down.

Throughout the afternoon we took singles and small flocks that took to our decoys. Surprisingly, the birds responded to calling and would peel around, drop their flaps, and be greeted with solid 6's. Shooting was fast and furious all PM, and we were pleasantly surprised with decoying Pintails and Mallards. All too soon the shoot ended when German came to pick us up. Will & Hugo had had some shooting, but the Montanans had gotten little in their spot. Pete and I figured we had well over 60, a good afternoon shoot.

Back to the lodge, we began to pack for the trip home next day, then enjoyed cocktails and a good dinner. Afterward, Tony rounded us all up from an evening out to the local Gentleman's Club, TD'S LOS ANGELES, 'bout 13 klicks out of town. As we pulled into the parking lot it reminded me of an ole roadhouse with a full parking lot. The cover charge was $2 each and we settled down to watch all the gals gyrate down the runway and twirl around poles, and such. We figured Tony had stock in the joint, 'cause all the gals knew him. With all the beautiful senoritas to watch, all Hugo could do was talk about Ms. Cheryl and complain 'bout his finger and shoulder. At one point I was talking to Matt, when a beautiful senorita climbed up on my lap. Seemed Tony had told her I was their grandfather and it was my 80th birthday. What a surprise ending to a great hunt! Thanks Tony! Sorry folks, no pictures allowed of this night.

The worst part of a visit to Gabino's is having to leave all that hot gunning to others, as well as the gracious Ole Mexico hospitality that everyone at Frank's exudes. By 8 AM we had breakfasted up, said our adios' to all at the lodge, and were off with German to the airport. Our first leg was to Hermosillo, where we lost Pete for a California direct leg. At Phoenix the Montana boys split for SLC, Will & Hugo headed for Charlotte with Hugo complaining about his finger, and I hit the trail for Denver & home to Lil Annee. Sure had been a great trip and a greater hunt. Can't wait to get back to hunt with Gabino again.

If anyone reading this is interested in a hunt with Frank, click on SUNDANCE SAFARIS on the home page and pull up info on my Mexico hunts. Frank still has open dates for duck & dove this season if you move quickly, and his Gulf Coast dove hunts begin in August.