It wasn’t very cold the day I got my first goose. But we’d set up the portable blind in about six inches of water, and the water wasn’t what you’d call warm.
We’d been there for about three hours. We’d seen birds all over the sky, but none were flying any closer than a mile or two from our pond. It was starting to look like we were going to get skunked.
Not completely skunked. We’d already knocked down a few greenheads and a couple of teal, but I wanted a honker. I’d never shot a goose before, and I really wanted to get a goose. The limit on dark geese was two in those days, and it would be great to get two, but I wasn’t going to get greedy. One would be enough for me.
It was getting to be that time of the morning when the birds stopped flying around for a while. Dad and the landowner were talking about calling it a day, but I could swear I heard a goose honking. And it was getting closer.
I turned carefully in the blind, remembering what Dad had told me about sudden movements. I also kept my face turned down, so my white face wouldn’t cause the bird to flare.
Sure enough, a single was coming our way. By that time, my hunting partners had heard it, too. They started calling, trying to lure the goose in to the decoys.
It worked. The goose came in from behind, then turned and set its wings. It was coming straight at us. I was between Dad and the landowner, and they told me to take the first shot. When Dad said “Take ‘em,” I stood up and fired.
But the goose had seen me move, and it shifted from landing mode to escape velocity. My 20-gauge shot caught it in the chest before it could get away. The next thing I knew, I was laying flat on my back in six inches of icy water, and there was a large goose floundering on my chest. Let me tell you, those wings can pack a wallop. Dad grabbed it by the neck and put it out of its misery, but not before it had whacked me at least a dozen times.
I was bruised, wet and cold, but I was happy. I had my first goose, as well as a story to tell about the adventure.
