I went goose hunting with my Dad on January 23, 2010. It wasn't the first time I'd been goose hunting this season, but, it was the first time I'd been successful this (goose) hunting season.
The day started somewhere in the 20's, but the temperature rose to the 40's by mid-day. The corn field we were hunting in (standing in a 5-foot pit dug into the ground) was muddy, and the ground in the hole was no different. I was standing in mud / inch-deep water the entire morning.
The day started with lackluster excitement as the geese started flying around 8:30, high in the sky, and showed no interest in our decoys. The morning grew progressively slower, to where we would only see maybe one flock, way off on the horizon, every half-hour or so. We’d wave our black flags and call, just to keep ourselves amused, and let the other hunters in nearby fields think that we were going to have some action. Of course, they’d start calling and waving their flags as soon as we started up. Or, vice/versa. Gotta find something to do on cold mornings when the coffee you’re drinking quickly becomes lukewarm to cold in a short time.
Around 11:00, I said we should call it a morning. Another day skunked. I know how unlikely that seems when, in urban/suburban areas, you can practically walk right up to the geese on the golf courses and parks. Why should it be so hard? So, we started putting all of our pit gear (thermos, buckets, ammo, hats/gloves, bags, etc.) up on top of the pit cover, when my Dad says, “Well, there’s one…”
I look to the west and sure enough, there is a goose going in, wings set, aiming to land in the decoys to our north. The guys in that pit didn’t even see it until it was almost on the ground. Then, a series of shots rang out (at least 6) and the goose got the hell away from them! It flew directly towards us. So, I said, “don’t bother putting all the stuff away. Don’t move, it’s going to fly right over us.”
When it was just about to fly right over, I said, “Let’s take ‘em!” and raised my 10-gauge to my shoulder, aimed, and shot. Impact! The goose set its wings and went down opposite the blind in the corn stubble to the south. It wasn’t a mid-air crumple-to-the-ground shot, but, it was at least a hit-the-ground instead of recovering and flying off.
So, I asked my Dad to assist in recovering it. It’s happened more than once that a wounded goose has gotten up and flown away before I could get to it, and I wanted all the assistance I could get. So, we south across the rows of corn stubble looking for the goose, but it was nowhere to be had. *sigh* We walked to the far end of the field and crossed the road, looking at the private land for any sign of the goose. Nothing. So, while I walked back across the rows looking again, a farmer drove by on the adjacent road, stopped, and said, “It’s back there by the telephone pole.” After seeing my confusion, he said, “you’re looking for a goose, right? It’s just back up the road.” “Thanks Mister!”
So, walking up the road, sure enough, there was my goose. I walked close to it, but, it walked further away. So I tried to walk closer. It hid behind some brush. I aimed my 10-gauge at its head and shot. The full choke pattern went just by its head behind the brush. In the mean time, my dad was sneaking up behind it, and was going to try to grab it around the neck. So, as it sat watching me, my dad got within 5 feet, but it then spooked. So, my dad held about 2 inches above its head and pulled the trigger. Needless to say, that was all she wrote (all it honked?).
We went back to the decoys and packed up – my first and last goose of the 2010 season.
The day started somewhere in the 20's, but the temperature rose to the 40's by mid-day. The corn field we were hunting in (standing in a 5-foot pit dug into the ground) was muddy, and the ground in the hole was no different. I was standing in mud / inch-deep water the entire morning.
The day started with lackluster excitement as the geese started flying around 8:30, high in the sky, and showed no interest in our decoys. The morning grew progressively slower, to where we would only see maybe one flock, way off on the horizon, every half-hour or so. We’d wave our black flags and call, just to keep ourselves amused, and let the other hunters in nearby fields think that we were going to have some action. Of course, they’d start calling and waving their flags as soon as we started up. Or, vice/versa. Gotta find something to do on cold mornings when the coffee you’re drinking quickly becomes lukewarm to cold in a short time.
Around 11:00, I said we should call it a morning. Another day skunked. I know how unlikely that seems when, in urban/suburban areas, you can practically walk right up to the geese on the golf courses and parks. Why should it be so hard? So, we started putting all of our pit gear (thermos, buckets, ammo, hats/gloves, bags, etc.) up on top of the pit cover, when my Dad says, “Well, there’s one…”
I look to the west and sure enough, there is a goose going in, wings set, aiming to land in the decoys to our north. The guys in that pit didn’t even see it until it was almost on the ground. Then, a series of shots rang out (at least 6) and the goose got the hell away from them! It flew directly towards us. So, I said, “don’t bother putting all the stuff away. Don’t move, it’s going to fly right over us.”
When it was just about to fly right over, I said, “Let’s take ‘em!” and raised my 10-gauge to my shoulder, aimed, and shot. Impact! The goose set its wings and went down opposite the blind in the corn stubble to the south. It wasn’t a mid-air crumple-to-the-ground shot, but, it was at least a hit-the-ground instead of recovering and flying off.
So, I asked my Dad to assist in recovering it. It’s happened more than once that a wounded goose has gotten up and flown away before I could get to it, and I wanted all the assistance I could get. So, we south across the rows of corn stubble looking for the goose, but it was nowhere to be had. *sigh* We walked to the far end of the field and crossed the road, looking at the private land for any sign of the goose. Nothing. So, while I walked back across the rows looking again, a farmer drove by on the adjacent road, stopped, and said, “It’s back there by the telephone pole.” After seeing my confusion, he said, “you’re looking for a goose, right? It’s just back up the road.” “Thanks Mister!”
So, walking up the road, sure enough, there was my goose. I walked close to it, but, it walked further away. So I tried to walk closer. It hid behind some brush. I aimed my 10-gauge at its head and shot. The full choke pattern went just by its head behind the brush. In the mean time, my dad was sneaking up behind it, and was going to try to grab it around the neck. So, as it sat watching me, my dad got within 5 feet, but it then spooked. So, my dad held about 2 inches above its head and pulled the trigger. Needless to say, that was all she wrote (all it honked?).
We went back to the decoys and packed up – my first and last goose of the 2010 season.
