2016 A Great Year for Snow Geese!

I have hunted waterfowl for 40 years. Prior to the year 2016, I had never harvested a snow goose. I am not the only Ohioan in that club. Snow geese are very rare in the buckeye state. There are some taken, but not very often. As a matter of fact, I was told by a wildlife manager in Magee Marsh a few years ago that there has never been a snow goose shot there! In context, he was telling all of us not to shoot swans, which are common. I did shoot a Ross’s goose in Texas 20 years ago.

It was not until March of 2016, on a guided hunt in Illinois did I actually get my first snow. I brought home two geese from that hunt. My second trip to Kansas this year proved to be quite “snowy”. On my first morning of the December trip I was able to reduce a black tipped beauty to my bag limit along with six ducks. My friend, Larry, had six ducks as well.

After our hunt we had the ritual of cleaning ducks, our guns and taking a shower. My friends, Matt and Randy stopped by to ask if we wanted to go rabbit hunting. I took a pass in favor of putting my feet up and petting the two Labrador Retrievers. It was about 4:00 when there was a knock at the door. I opened the door for Jeff, the owner. “This young man has something to ask you.” The teenage boy with him said, “Sir, I want to jump shoot a bunch of snows in the youth mentoring area, and I need an adult with me.” I was not real excited about jump shooting geese. It is usually a very difficult task.  I told him that I would, and ask him if I could bring my dog. He informed me that I could, and I needed to bring my gun and a box of shells. “You mean I can hunt too?!” I couldn’t believe it. He explained the rules on the way over. We stopped at the gate to fill out a paper. We made our way a bit further down the road to the biggest flock of birds that I have ever seen. We talked to a game protector afterwards who told us that there were 30,000 geese in that flock. As we approached the geese, I saw a large pile of logs on the edge of the cornfield that the geese were using. I believe I could smell those birds! Perhaps it was just the droppings, but the stench was real! The eager teenager told me to go around to the right and he would go left of the log pile. I could see birds still landing right where he was headed. Oh my! This was going to work.

I barely got around the corner when I heard the shot. I saw a single goose jump up 30 yards away. I raised my 10 gauge, Remington SP-10, and folded the bird. At that point I had a huge flock of birds fly in front of me. I picked out one, swung through and dropped it, two birds behind it crumbled as well. My third shot found its mark and another one joined it on its plummet to earth. I loaded two more rounds and three birds fell as the smooth-bore barked! My faithful companion, Gunner, bolted after a goose running across the cornfield. The white feathered prey had no chance against the exuberant canine. I quickly swung the steel barrel to another bird on the run. One shot and Gunner was hot on his trail. My furry hunting buddy had one goose after another in a pile. The young man who invited me called out to him as he was having difficulty rounding up a few of his birds! Unbelievably fun!

We were only back in Ohio for three day when Randy called, “There are forty snow geese using one of our cornfields!” I could hear the excitement in his voice. The next day we were set up in a cornfield with a bunch of snow wind socks and some Canada goose decoys. The Canada geese wanted nothing to do with those snow goose decoys, but that flock of snow geese came all the way in. I doubled and Randy scored. What a year for snow goose hunting!

A Hunter Fighting for his Life

I closed the door and removed the leashes from the dogs. Soon the trailer was full of the smell of bacon and coffee. I turned the eggs as the toast popped up, and in strolled my hunting partner ready for breakfast. I am the early riser of the hunting party. I always have been. He and I ate quickly as our dogs devoured their breakfast.  

As we loaded up to head out to the marsh on day 3 of our November Kansas duck hunt. We knew we were forced out of our “honey hole” by the new wind direction. The south wind also can affect both the numbers and species of birds you see that day. One of the things that I love about hunting Kansas is that you can encounter altogether different species from one day to the next. The anticipation of what the day will bring adds excitement to the morning. As the fairly stiff breeze rolled down the drive, I noticed the familiar dusty air that I associate with the dry Jayhawk state. The night air is clear and the stars are visible due to the absence of ambient light from the ground. Only the “Super Moon” interferes with their brilliance. The light from the close full moon almost negated the need for flashlights.

The last items to load were our furry companions. My yellow Lab, Gunner, enjoys the company of other dogs. His father, Hunter accompanied us that day. The two of them shared the back seat of my Expedition laying on the wool doggy blanket.

They travel well, and hate to be left behind! Gunner absolutely loves to retrieve, even though he is starting to become arthritic. He has been getting shots by the vet, and we switched to glucosamine supplement dog food. I have anti-inflammatory medicine for him as well.  Hunter is closing in on twelve years, but will occasionally use that keen nose of his to find a downed bird.

We launched our crew on schedule and set up with the wind at our back. We were in a new area where the marsh grass was both thick and tall. It seemed like a perfect place to hide. The problem came with the fifth bird of the morning. I shot a gadwall that drifted right and crashed into the marsh grass instead of the open water where the blocks were set. The first birds splashed in the decoys which made for an easy retrieve for Gunner. To retrieve this gadwall we had to move the boat, so I fired up the four stroke Mercury and away we went. Upon arriving in line with where the bird fell, I got out of the boat and called Gunner to join me. He promptly joined me with a “belly smacker” and the hunt was on. Meanwhile Randy was encouraging Hunter to join the quest. The stench of the swamp was no surprise, but the water depth was. I am six foot five, and the water was up to my navel. It did not challenge the top of my 5 mm chest waders, but it did slow me down a bit. Needless to say, the two dogs were unable to touch bottom. I searched for the bird with my eyes, but was more hopeful that the Labradors’ nose would win the day. There was an open water pocket, but beyond that the grass got thicker and thicker. I noticed the dogs were tiring from swimming and fighting the grass. I called to them and blew my whistle. Gunner came but the older dog was making a bee line into the grass. I hollered, called and whistled, but he would not change course. “Perhaps he has the scent of that duck!” I thought. So I followed him, but he disappeared. I whistled and called, but nothing. I decided to get Gunner back to the boat. “Call your dog”, I said to Randy. “He won’t come!” Randy pleaded, “His hearing is about gone! Blow your whistle!” I helped Gunner in the boat and headed where I had last seen the dog. Randy drove the boat through open water around to the back side. The grass got so thick I had difficulty forcing my way through. Hollering and whistling all the way, I finally punched through to open water. I walked 150 yards trying to get the attention of the elderly retriever!  I heard Randy making noise as he rounded the corner in the boat. “I can’t find him! What are we going to do?” I pleaded with Randy. It had been nearly 30 minutes since I had last seen him. “He’s probably dead! There’s no telling where is in here!” The thought of that sickened me. I told Randy that I was going back in the way I came out, and he should go around the other way.

I found the path that I made through the grass. It was easy to spot as the grass was so dense there. I decided that I was going to have to use my ears more this time, since I could not see very far through the grass. I walked about twenty feet and called out. I heard a loud splash. I walked out to open water and here came Gunner. He was swimming and whining. He had a worried look on his face. I didn’t know if he was upset about the missing chocolate lab or if he thought I was in distress. I put him back in the boat, and started out again. I walked thirty feet in this time, called out, whistled and listened. Now I prayed, “Lord please help us find this dog!” I walked twenty feet, called out, whistled and listened. I walked about 30 feet, realizing that I had a lot of swamp to cover. “How far could he have gone?” I said to myself. I moved again, stopped and called out. My heart nearly jumped into my throat when I heard two splashes that sounded just like a dog’s front paws on the water. I immediately plowed through the grass like a charging rhino! I headed toward the sound, but I couldn’t see very far so I stopped when I guessed I was close. I heard a whimper and I moved to the sound and there he was! The poor guy was exhausted! He was standing using the thick grass to hold his head and shoulders out of the water. Hunter was as glad to see me as I was to see him. I put my arm around him to hold him up, and I called Randy on my cell. Randy didn’t answer, but he must have guessed why I called. He came motoring along yelling, “Did you find him?” “I had tears in my eyes when I said, “Yes!” I was so full of emotion, excitement and relief it’s hard to describe. When I got him to the boat I was so pumped with adrenaline that I picked up the 100 pound Lab and put him in the boat like a sack of flour. Randy thanked me for finding his dog. I told him that I was not leaving that swamp without him! I knew he was a fighter!