The Fast & Furious

I had just finished setting out the decoys and was tucking myself in, when I heard the faint cluck of a lone goose drift airily from the drainage pond to my east.  Her lone call was a stinging reminder of an errant shot that had brought her down but just out of reach the day before. 

As I do most mornings when in the field, I promised myself that today I would shoot better than I did the day before.  In preparation for the morning hunt, I had purchased a box of HEVI-Metal BB.  While more expensive than others, I’ve always had a soft spot for the brand and fantastic results in the field.  Hevi-Metal's tagline says it all, "I didn’t come this far to miss”. 

Nestled into my blind with a perfect cover and a perfect view I was ready for the days hunt to begin, eagerly awaiting the first birds to approach. I waited quietly.  And waited.  And waited some more.  I laid there idly for nearly four hours, and with the late season hunt seemingly a bust, I was hesitant but ready to concede the day.   

Standing for the first time in hours, I stepped out of my blind into the field and was rewarded almost immediately with motion to my right.  Flying in from the west, a pair of Canada’s finest made their approach toward the decoys as they sliced silently through the afternoon sky.   

I did my best to crouch, run, and leap simultaneously back into my blind - I was grateful to be hunting alone at that moment.  The pair of geese flew past my spread well out of range.  The lead bird flew diagonally between my decoys and the drainage pond to the east.  The second goose, however, unexpectedly broke away from its partner and with a hard turn landed in the north end of the pond.  
   
Surprised to see the second bird land, I figured it must have spied my missed quarry from the day before and felt it was a safe resting place.  Knowing the lead bird could turn around and join its brethren, I held out hope that my day was not finished.  In one swift motion I pulled the shotgun to my chest as I lowered myself into the blind and shut the canopy doors. 

Within minutes I was rewarded for my vigilance with a familiar hail echoing behind me.  Seconds later, two geese emerged into my periphery headed due south between me and the drainage pond.  The lead bird in the duo turned in a large arc to the west toward the outer edge of my spread, flying in a path directly in front of me from left to right.   

With its wings cupped and quickly descending I sat up, cognizant of the trailing goose but focused on the first.  With the bird forty yards out and looking in a different direction I chose to not rush the shot. Pulling just in front of the bird I gently pulled the trigger and watched it topple to the ground. 

I quickly pivoted to the second target, the wearier of the two, which had already managed to pick up speed and altitude in an effort to evade me.  I lined up on her and pulled the trigger twice, coming up short with the two remaining rounds.  With the chamber empty, I watched helplessly as the second goose flew westward towards the greenhouse, honking angrily as if to alert any potential witnesses.     

With the bird out of sight I regained my focus on the first bird that had been dropped, it was struggling to make its way to the drainage pond.  As I began reloading my shotgun, the second goose made a miraculous reappearance. Flying a little higher and moving quite a bit faster this time around, she skirted the outer edge of the spread heading away from me.   

I sat up and swung the barrel nearly a full birds length in the lead and pulled the trigger.  Her body went instantly rigid, and with her wings motionless her 40 yard fall to the ground was punctuated with a hard crash. 

This last volley of shotgun fire had proven too much for the geese hidden away in the drainage pond.  What I had thought was a pair of geese turned out to be a flock of seven.  Emerging from the water, they flew in a v-formation to the left of the decoys, weary but completely unaware that their current trajectory would take them directly overhead.   

As they approached, I threw open the canopy doors once more and took aim at the lead bird.  I waited for a moment and pulled the trigger.  The lead bird was hit nearly instantly and spun to the ground like a helicopter crashing not five yards away. 

And with that, what had been a dismal day in the blind, ended in a blaze of gunfire and a limit in hand.