The little island my brother and I were hunting was my honey hole. I just knew that the ducks and geese loved to come to the protection of this island to loaf during the day.
As the sun continued to rise our hopes grew just waiting for the first birds to start waking up. Thirty minutes after shooting time and we still had not heard or seen a bird. I convinced myself that since it was a cold morning they were just going to be a little later than normal. I had myself convinced for the next hour, but by eight thirty the skies were completely void of any waterfowl.
Having little feeling left in our toes from sitting still in the cold for so long, my brother and I decided to stand up and stretch out for a minute and eat a snack from the blind bag. One granola bar and a bottle of water apiece and 15 minutes later, nothing. By this time my morale was sinking fast, I was starting to think that there were no birds left in all of South Carolina. (There are not many here to start with so it was not a crazy idea).
At this point in a hunt that is a complete bust, the conversation often turns from when we think the birds might show up, or where they might be to a much more important topic, where should we go for breakfast, and how soon should we leave. My brother and I were in agreement that Waffle House would be the perfect place to commiserate over this cold, long, unproductive hunt. As for the when should we leave, sooner sounded better than later.
About the time we had decided to pick up the decoys I heard a faint distant honk… could it be? Or was my head playing games with me just to make a tough day worse? Nope, there it was again, the distinct in flight talk of a goose.
It has always amazed me how no matter how cold, tired, and hungry you might be if you see or hear birds, all that goes away. The only thing that mattered was getting that bird to come close enough to give us a shot.
My brother and I dove for what was left of our makeshift blind. Frantically we tried to figure out whose gun was whose while calling and flagging at this goose we had yet to see. We could figure out the general direction from which the goose was coming and that it was low on the water, but that was it. After what seemed like a minute or two there they were, a pair of geese 200 yards out on a direct course for our spread. I continued to honk and cluck sparingly just to remind them that there were geese waiting for them.
Inside of 100 yards, my brother and I began to get fidgety trying to get in the best position to shoot at the geese when they come in. 75 yards out, still on the deck, still have not wavered from the decoy spread. I whisper to Thomas that he can call the shot. When they got to 50 yards I went silent on the call and just watched as they finished right into the decoys. 25 yards, the front gooses’ feet were about to touch the water, Thomas said to go ahead and shoot. The actual shooting is always the hardest for me to recollect because it happens so fast. All I remember is I shot at the right goose, Thomas shot at the left goose. They both splashed down, it was perfect.
For most hunts this is where the story ends, we had a slow day that was salvaged by a pair of geese decoying perfectly and us shooting them both.
This is actually where the good part of the story begins for this hunt. You see, as Thomas ran around to the far side of the island to get the boat to go and get the geese I walked out as far as I could and shot my goose one more time to finish it. Thomas’ goose however was already out of range, it seemed that the goose was not dead yet and decided to swim as fast as it could away from us… Well Thomas made it around to my bird and hastily picked it up and tossed it in the boat and took off after the runaway.
I had been watching the direction the goose had taken when it swam away and pointed Thomas to it. That dang bird was fast, by the time that Thomas caught up to it he was 300 yards away (the wind was blowing that direction which aided in the bird’s attempted escape).
I will never forget the game of cat and mouse that ensued, the bird had swam to a bridge and was swimming in and out of the pilings to evade Thomas, who had to resort to tying off the anchor and throwing it at the goose because it is illegal to shoot a fire arm that close to a surface road. From my vantage point 300 yards away, all I could see was Thomas going in fast circles under the bridge and then he would hop up and throw something. It was the funniest thing I had ever seen.
To make it even better, while Thomas was chasing this bird around, a pontoon boat with two fishermen drove under the bridge. Instead of acting nonchalant about what was going on and just letting them go on past, Thomas asked if they had a fishing rod he could borrow to try and hook the goose and bring it in. They said they didn’t have a single rod on the boat and that they were just out for a leisurely morning ride, then took off. That left Thomas with a goose that would not die, and few legal options for killing it.
Finally he devised a plan. Thomas put the anchor down, picked up a section of the Mojo pole and began to just idle around waiting for a chance to strike. Finally the bird was in range, I watched as the final blow was dealt to the toughest goose in the world. Thomas retrieved his prize and turned the boat back toward the island.
I started to walk down to the shore to meet him when I realized that he was going awfully fast
and standing up. I could hear that he was yelling at the same time. It was not until he came to within 100 yards of the island that I realized he was yelling repeatedly, “They’re banded! They’re banded!” I met him at the waters edge to find one banded goose and one double banded goose.
It turns out that the geese had been banded together in 2003 and then the double banded goose had been banded again the following year. Even though they were both residents, they were pretty smart to have survived at least 7 years with out being shot.



Ephesians 1:15-17
For this reason, ever since I heard about your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love for all the saints, I have not stopped giving thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers. I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better.




