This year goose hunting was added to life experience of this hunter. I have found it to be quite rewarding, even though my success rate was minimal. I was introduced to goose hunting by my friend Terry, who also happens to be my mechanic. Terry asked me if I would like to go and told me to showup at the curve west of Berthoud at 5:30 AM on Thanksgiving morning. He instrucked me to dress warm and bring a thermos of coffee and something to eat. He would provide the shotgun and decoys. Little did I know what an adventure would be instore for the next two months as I laid down my money for a small game license and waterfowl stamps.

Dead Eye or Beginner’s Luck

I am convinced that all animals are creatures of habit. Finding out what those habits are is a major factor in what separates the successful hunter from the person who winds up eating domestic cows and chickens. So whatever possessed that lead goose to bring that flying ‘V’ directly at me twenty five yards over my head I am trying to find out.

It was New Years Day nineteen ninety nine, halfway through the first goose season of my well seasoned life. The day was blustery with a front moving in from the Northwest. We were sitting in a blind made of hay bales in the middle of a field. As the sun peaked over the Eastern horizon the wind began to pickup and seemed to swirl from all directions. The foothills West of Wellington disappeared in the low clouds and in twenty minutes they would appear again. The geese began flying hap-hazardly from East to West and back again.

So far into my first season I had not yet shot a goose. It was not for lack of trying as I had gone through a few boxes of shells in the preceeding month. Goose hunting is a bit different from big game hunting for this handicapped hunter. The major difference is that I wear my artificial leg. I do this because we hunt on relatively flat ground and some of the areas we hunt are muddy. This makes for slow walking, but crutches are out of the question as they tend to sink into the mud a foot or so. Using my prosthesis also makes me a tad clumsy when getting to my feet to take a shot. So there are trade offs and arguements in my head on the issue.

Well, the time was 8:05 AM and a flock had just lifted off the lake five hundred yards North of our blind. They started heading in our general direction. This is always been the moment of truth for this novice goose hunter. Am I concealed enough? Where are these geese headed? Are they going to the lake to the South West of us, or to the one South East? The voices of advice ring in my brain telling me to wait, wait, wait, don't move, they can see every thing, wait. So while I am listening to the voices I am peeking ever so cautiously through the mass of the dried weed arrangement stuck into the top of the hay bales. I wait until the lead goose is almost directly overhead to make my move. I jumped to my feet. OK, so it wasn't really a jump, but I got there fast, caught my balance. Balance is important when trying shoot geease. I picked the last goose on the left side of the 'V', lead it by the length of a goose and squeezed the trigger making sure that I followed through. The goose's wings folded up and it fell twenty yards in front of me with a great thud. Something that I had not thought about passed through my mind. What if I shoot one of these geese and it hits me as it falls to the ground. It probably would feel like getting hit with a semi-hard bowling ball. I could almost see the headlines 'Goose Hunter Killed By Falling Goose'. Anyway that is how I shot the first goose of my life. The next three did not take as long.

About ten o'clock Denny and I decided to head up to our other place since the action had died down a bit. The other farm is about 300 acres which was plowed except for a dozen rows of corn stalks standing a foot tall after cutting running North and South right down the middle of the property. The corn strip has been a haven for geese throughout the season. Today would prove no different.

We pulled onto the property at the South West gate. The corn was loaded with the black heads of wary Canada geese. Denny dropped me off at the gate. He was going to drive the road around the field and approach them from the North side. The truck spooked them before I could find a spot to hide. A few hundred geese took flight at once. What a sight! They scattered into smaller flocks and circled around to finish feeding. I crouched down along the fence and waited for them to set their wings and land back into the strip of corn. When they passed overhead I took my shot and a goose fell about a hundred yards out into the freshly disked field. He was still moving around so I had to act quickly. The terain became a real problem as it was plowed into deep ruts with rather large clumps of dirt throughout. I needed a walking stick and ther only thing available was my Winchester shotgun. I unloaded it and grabbed it by the barrel and used it to steady myself as I struggled toward the wounded goose.

As I got within twenty yards of the goose I heard the honking of an approching flock of Cananda geese. I turned around a saw them coming directly at me a couple of hundred yards away. There was not much time to think, but I did manage a thought or two. I began to doubt all of those wise old guys who told me to stay hidden and clean out of sight. Here I was standing in the middle of a freshly plowed field wiyj no cover for hundreds of yards in any direction. When ever Denny and I hunt we always pray for dumb prey. This seemed as dumb as they get. Perhaps the lead goose was blind.

I managed all of that thinking while getting my butt on the dirt and load one shell into my gun. I took aim at the flock as it approached. When they were about twenty five yards away I took aim like I was bowling; to the left of the lead pin, looking for a strike. I squeezed the trigger and followed through. Kaboom! To my amazement two birds fell from the sky. No I had three wounded geese in the field in a triangle around me. The next fifteen minutes proved to be a lot of work. Imagine a handicapped hunter who can barely get around in the rough terrain chasing after three geese. From God's view it was probably His chucle of the day. Glad to be of service.