An Amazing Snow Goose Hunt

  "This is our final Saturday to snow goose hunt," I told my brother over the phone, "If you want to get your boys in on a hunt, this has to be it."
  Saturdays always seem to be jammed up for hunting. All the kids in school and the working men have this day off to hunt. I had been targeting this day for some weeks to take my Nephews snow goose hunting.
  "Sorry, no can do," my brother replied back. "The guys have ball team try-outs."
  I called Jimmy and he was more than ready to go.
  "It is calling for heavy wind so let's get there in the dark to get set up. It should be a good day for decoying those wily white birds."
  "I'll see you at O dark thirty," Jimmy replied.
  I parked my truck next to Jimmy's and opened the door.
  "Listen to that," Jimmy exclaimed. His eyes were wide open with excitement.
  I let Jaz out and stepped away from the trucks to listen. The roar of thousands of snow geese, mixed with specklebellies filled the dark morning air.
  "Wow, that's incredible," I said to Jimmy. "Let's get to the blind and get set up as quickly as we can. This might be a good day."
  The wind was blowing hard enough that we would not have to lug heavy batteries to the vortex machines, a real plus for us old guys.
  Daylight slipped up on us all to quickly. We were racing around getting the final decoys in place.
  The roar of barking snow geese from the roosting ponds a mile away suddenly grew to an almost deafening pitch.
  "They're getting up, let's get to the blind!" I shouted to Jimmy.
  We both took off on a sprint for the blind.
  The skies filled with white birds, but in the early dawn, looked like a huge black cloud rising from the ponds. In just minutes waves of squawking birds were overhead.
  A single dropped out of a flock and came sailing down into the decoys.
   "Is it a snow goose or a specklebelly?" I whispered to Jimmy.
  "I can't tell, it's just too dark against the clouds to see," Jimmy whispered back.
  The goose was in very close range when we could finally make out white bird, black wing tips.
  "Snow goose!" we both said in unison, "Take it now!"
  We had our first bird of the morning.
  Wave after wave of snow geese poured over us as the morning progressed. The shear number of birds flying over insured us that some would decoy.
  At first we would jump up and shoot the geese on their first pass over in range, but as the morning progressed we started letting the birds work around and around and settling them into the decoys right in our faces.
  The sight of hundreds of little white geese circling into the decoys, and the roar of hundreds of snow geese voices was almost mind blowing.
  My little hunting partner dog, Jaz, was almost into overload. She would shiver in excitement as the geese passed right over the blind. When I would tell Jimmy to, "take them" Jaz would let out a bark herself. Jimmy and I laughed at the excitement of the old dog.
  Throughout the morning,  I kept saying I wished we had Gary's boys with us to share such a special hunt. A hunt like this is so hard to come by now days.
  "This is why we come morning after morning, and sit for hours on end in total boredom," I commented to Jimmy, while stuffing shells into my gun. The barrel was so hot I could hardly touch it. "If you do enough of theses hunts you hit it great once in a while."
  By noon I was nearing the end of my shells. "Man, I should have brought more shells," I said to Jimmy.
  "I've got about one more box left, I'll share with you if you need," he replied.
  I rubbed my sore shoulder and decided I did not need to dip into his shell stash. "I'm good for a while, and we have had such a great morning, I'm good to head home when it slows down."
  Around one O'clock the birds settled onto their resting ponds and the skies cleared of white geese. Jaz was worn out, and we decided to call it a day.
  "Wow, what a hunt," I said as we hi-fived and began gathering things up for a trip to the truck.
  We laid our geese out on the bank to find we had got an amazing twenty-six geese... by far our best day for two guys.
  Forever will be the sight and sound of that morning burned into my memory, of the white geese descending out of the clear sky and into our decoys, time after time. The little yellow Lab quivering with excitement and barking as we rose to shoot at the geese.
  It was truly an amazing snow goose hunt.

One Great Dog, Jasmine

  I set the dog food bowl on the floor and spoke to the gray haired yellow lab.
  "Here is your breakfast, you'd better eat it and then we'll go try to get you a goose."
  Jasmine (known as Jaz by most of us), made her way into the kitchen, walked right past the food bowl, and parked herself in front of the garage door. I could read her so well. She was saying, "You're not going hunting without me. I'll even give up my breakfast to make sure I get to go along."
  Jaz is nearing 11 or 12 years old. ( I can't keep up as the years fly by for me as well). Her once beautiful yellow fur is almost completely white in her face and ears.
  This winter hunting season has been tough on her. She can make one hunt with mild retrieves but suffers joint pain for a day or so after. I will not let her suffer, so I hunt her one day and then give her a day or two off... not her idea at all.
  The final week of the snow goose season seems to be realized by this little yellow dog.  She is now refusing to eat in hopes of going on one more hunt.
  I grab a bowl out of the cupboard and take her breakfast with us. I know she will wolf it down once we get settled in the blind.
  In the garage, I open the truck door. The little yellow lab slowly makes her way to the truck and then manages to get her front feet up on the running boards. She looks at me asking for help getting into the front seat.
  I have to laugh. As a young pup, and into her first seven or eight years, this same dog could seemingly leap tall buildings. I would open the tail gate of the truck, and even with monster tires, would see a yellow flash whiz past me and into the back.
  "Ok, I'll "helpie" you up," I say to her while lifting her into the truck. She proudly takes her place on the front seat and lays down.
  The young dog who used to spring into the back of the truck would pace and whine for hours as we drove to our hunting destination. I tried for years to break her of the hyper habit. I even had to use a big kennel in the back of the truck to keep her in a more calm state of mind.
  This old girl has earned her way into the front seat of the truck. I wouldn't have it any other way.
  As we drive to our hunting field nearly and hour away the old lab lays on the seat with her head near me. I reach over and stroke her soft fur. "We've had a great time hunting together, haven't we?" I say to her. She wags her tail.
  Each ten miles, or so, Jaz will get up and place her nose on the side window. She is wanting me to let it down a bit so she can smell the air. It is her way of reading where we are along the way.
  Sniff, sniff, sniff... and then back to laying down on the seat.
  Each time I let the window down I can see the excitement level increase, as I make the final turn into the farm driveway, Jaz is up and shaking with excitement, nose sniffing huge gulps of air from the open window. She knows exactly where we are, even in the pitch dark of the morning.
  I think back of all the mornings we have watched the sunrise over water, fields, mountain lakes, and rivers. We listen to the honk of geese, the quack of thousands of ducks, the hoot of owls, the howls of coyotes. Sounds most people never get to listen to. We watch as the Eastern sky pushes the darkness of the night slowly to the West, until the winter sun breaks above the horizon.
  I think of all the guys who have hunted with us. Laughter has filled our blinds. We have solved world problems, ousted most politicians, remembered friends who are no longer with us, and most times have been able to shoot a few birds for Jaz to show off her skills in retrieving.
  I think of the dogs who have shared our blinds. All of them are gone now. Dad's dog, Reba, was on almost every hunt with Jaz for ten years. The two yellow labs were retrieving machines. Reba was stronger than Jaz, but Jaz had learned hand signals. Reba would get to the obvious birds first, but I would direct Jaz to the hard to find ones. Each dog would get a good work out on a hunt.
  Reba's health broke down last year and she is no longer with us.
  Tubby, Remington, Bo, and Bart, just to name a few of the dogs who have shared blinds with us, no longer alive.
  "This will probably be your last hunt," I say to Jaz, as we park the truck. It is pouring rain, but she doesn't care. She is quivering with excitement and ready to go.
  Jimmy and Don meet at the field for the final day's hunt. Rain or no rain, we are hunting.
  We shoot a few geese in the steady rain and Jaz proudly makes one retrieve after another. All are close to the blind and out in the field. I am trying not to let her swim as that seems to aggravate her hip and joint problems.
  We shoot a goose that sails quite a distance away. I head after it with Jaz leading the way. I see the goose, but it is in a huge pond, and I will not send Jaz for that long of a swim. We will let the wind blow it to shore and get it later. On the long walk back to the blind I see Jaz limping.
  I know this will be her final hunt. I fight the lump in my throat.
  We shoot a few more geese and I make sure to meet Jaz very close to where she picks up the bird.
  "Let me help you carry it back," I say to her. I take the bird from her and head back to the blind. She grabs the back of the goose and "helps" me carry it. She refuses to give up on her duties. There is no give up in her, no quit.
  Wet, muddy, but happy we call it a day. I lift a spent dog into the truck and we head home. She sleeps all the way home.
  At home she is given a warm bath and a good supper. She quickly falls asleep on her little bed by the fire place. She twitches and whines dreaming about the duck or goose just out of reach. She is still working in her sleep.
  Jaz has earned a place on the bed beside my wife.
  At bed time I tell her it is time to go outside and then off to bed. She cannot get up by herself. I gently lift her to her feet and give her time for the sore muscles to support her. She limps outside for her nightly potty break, then back in. At the foot of the stairs she tries one stair and her front leg gives out.
  "Wait Jaz, I'll help you," I say. I reach down and pick her up and give her a ride to the bed. Her tail is wagging thanks all the way.
  I gently massage her sore legs as I tell her what a good girl she is. She lovingly licks my hands in thanks.
  "Dream of ducks, geese, and bowls full of dog food," I tell her.
  Jaz softly groans and lets out a big sigh as she drops off to sleep. She has probably finished her final hunt of her life.
  What an incredible little yellow Labrador.

    Jasmine with what will probably be her last retrieve
          

Chasing Snow Geese

  It is that time of the spring again. Spring snow goose season in Idaho.
  Hundreds upon hundreds of decoys have been piled in my truck and transported to my secret corn field. Vortex machines, batteries, flyers, speakers, mp3 players, the list just goes on and on... all to chase the little white geese.
  I have really wanted to get my Dad in on a good hunt but the weather and the geese just haven't cooperated. We finally had to settle on a day and just see what happened.
  I informed Dad that it would be an all day hunt. "You just never know when a flock of birds might decide to drop in," I told him over the phone.
  We settled into the blind with a full thermos of coffee, relaxing in the camp chairs and waited. There were plenty of snow geese flying over the field, but none seemed remotely interested in dropping thousands of feet to investigate my little spread of decoys. Just a tad bit frustrating, to say the least.
  Dad and I finally had a flock close into marginal shooting range and it was now or never.
  "Let's take them on this pass," I whispered to dad. He was ready, and my dog, Jaz, was quivering with excitement as well.
  "Ok now. Get 'em, get 'em, get 'em!" I urged as I came up shooting at my side of the flock.
  Bang. Bang. Bang. I could hear Dad's gun going off beside me, and I was doing my best to stay on my side of the flock.
  One snow goose dropped to the ground near the blind.
  "All right, we got one!" I shouted, as Jaz proudly carried the bird to the blind.
  I did my best to blame the bird on Dad's shooting but he insisted the bird fell out of my side of the flock.
  "I'm sure it was one stray pellet from your gun that came to my side of the flock and got the bird," I tried to reason. Hmmm...
  That was it for the day. Not much in the way of harvest, but a good day in the blind none the less.
  Fast forward a couple of days.
  "Rain is in the forecast, but let's give it a go in the morning," I said to Ivak.
  My truck rumbled into his driveway much too early in the morning, but Ivak and his son Colton were standing ready.
  Once again all the decoys were out, the vortex's spinning, the sounds system blaring snow goose sounds, and we were waiting.
  The morning broke with geese in the air. Speckle bellys and Canadians flew over the blind so low it seemed we could reach up and catch them. It is amazing how they know when the season is closed for them. It is like they taunt you each day.
  We huddled in the blind as the heavy rain clouds approached. Would the geese get to us before the rain?
  "Low flock coming from behind," I hissed, "Let's get them the first opportunity we have. They won't circle the decoys very many times."
 It was a fairly large flock of snow geese and they were coming right on the deck low. As they cleared the blind we fired into them.
  Two geese sailed out of the flock and into the ponds near us.
  I volunteered to go after them. I found one very easily, but searched and searched for the other one.
  "I sure wish I had my little yellow dog, Jaz for this," I mumbled to myself. I had to leave Jaz at home as she is getting way up in dog years and was very stiff and sore from a hunt the day before. I just won't let her suffer even though she was begging to come.
  I climbed up on a ridge above the pond system and spotted the white goose. Dead on an island in the middle of the largest pond.
  Rain greeted me as I got back to the blind. It was looking like it set in for the day.
  "Ok, let's pick everything up. I don't need all my things getting soaked," I told Ivak and Colton.
  We loaded the truck and then rummaged up a little paddle boat from the ponds edge.
  "Ok Colton, you are the retriever. I'll give you hand signals and guide you to the bird," I told him.
  Man I should have brought the shock collar for his training....
  Colton paddled out and brought the goose back to the boat.  I was shouting, "Bring it here boy! Here, boy! Good boy, I'll give you a doggie treat when you get back!"
  We had a good laugh as he paddled his way back.
  The results of the hunt were not counted in numbers of birds, but rather, the quality of sharing some mornings with great friends and family.
  You can not put a price tag on watching the day break as thousands of birds roar into flight around you. Roosting turkeys gobbling the darkness into daylight.
  I value each day I am lucky enough to spend in this manner. Were it not for hunting I would never experience these special occasions.
  I feel very blessed to be living now. To have the freedom to do these incredible excursions with my family and good friends.
                                 Dad and Jaz

                            Colton the retreiver

                       Ivak and Colton