An Outdoorsman‛s Journal

Cold weather goose hunt

Hello friends, I drove on the interstate near DeForest in mid-December, headed to my good friend Dick Emerson’s funeral. I had just written about Dick the week before, as Dick and Molly Emerson are the couple that helped me become a writer. On my drive, I kept noticing literally hundreds of Canadian geese flying all over.

Dick’s funeral was in DeForest, and I had a brainstorm and decided to call Seth Steinhauer, who is 33 and a solid member of our group of very fun people, and ask him where the heck I could hunt in this area. Seth is an arborist with Bugg Tree Care and has been an active waterfowl hunter since he was old enough to legally be a waterfowler. Seth has two Chesapeakes: Arrow, who is 8, and her daughter, Flower, who is 3. Seth is more into using a kayak than a motor, which is something I have a lot of respect for. Sunday, Dec. 18 – High 25, low 6 This was a very interesting and fun hunt for both of us. First, Seth dragged a kayak loaded with decoys and I pulled an Otter sled a good half mile. Next, we dragged our rigs on just-thickenough ice about 400 yards. Then the dogs and men immersed themselves in the water while wearing chest waders. Then we set decoys and finally we hid in cattails next to each other to begin our hunt. Today was opening day of the late Canada goose season and, let me tell you, I made the right call when I chose Seth Steinhauer. The conditions were kind of brutal and to hunt where we were, you had to travel on foot. It was somewhat dangerous and despite the fact that we were near Madison, meaning lots of people, we did not hear another shot for our entire hunt. Here is where things get a little interesting. We knew we were going to knock some geese out of the sky as, simply put, we were hunting the only open water in the area. We were going to let the first flock pass after we became comfortable, but that was not in the cards and Seth and I each picked out a goose and sent it to heaven. The show put on by Arrow and Flower retrieving all of these birds today was amazing. Breaking ice, swimming, climbing out of the ice, grabbing the bird, jumping back in the open water and then swimming to Seth with their mouth full of a goose would have been a great show for TV. It was darn cold; the mirror on my truck had said 6 degrees an hour ago. It’s the kind of cold where if a hunter falls in the water with waders, even if it’s only mid-thigh deep, he or she has trouble.

So, Seth and I had been so busy that we did not even hardly have time to shoot the bull and, just like that, here comes another flock and I smack one. So far we have not missed a bird. The pups fetch the goose, we sit, another flock flies by and Seth drops one. Still no missing. After 10 minutes of hunting, we are down to our third and last bird that each of us can shoot as the limit is three per man. About 20 million mallards put on an aerial show for us, we wait 10 minutes, a flock flies by and neither Seth nor I miss. After another beautiful retrieve, Seth and I take out lunches and shoot the breeze while watching the goose and duck show.

When we got up to begin the journey back, my chest waders were frozen like cement. On the drive home I sent my stepson Joey Dushek a picture of our six birds, and he sent a text back saying “good job now shoot 4 more.” Little did we know the limit had changed to five a hunter.

The following day I hunted alone. I hiked out in the dark. The open water had frozen over and I only had one chance at shooting. I was hiding in some cattails on the ice, I leaned back to shoot, and as I was firing, I fell backwards through the ice. I dropped my goose, did not get another shot and all’s well that ends well.

Maybe on this hunt, Dick Emerson was helping. Thanks, Dick! Sunset