OnStand : The Sportsman's Watchdog

If you properly respect what you are after, and shoot it cleanly and on the animal’s terrain, if you imprison in your mind all the wonder of the day from sky to smell to breeze to flowers—then you have not merely killed an animal. You have lent immortality to a beast you have killed because you loved him and wanted him forever so that you could always capture the day.

—Robert Ruark, The Old Man and the Boy

Chapter Sixteen

I was laying up against that big oak tree for almost a year. You talk about boring? You think you know boring? That was boring. I didn’t see or here a single person in all of that time.

I did see lots of critters. I even had an opossum curl up with me for a couple of nights. I saw lots of raccoons, squirrels, mice, and a deer or two and I had more than a couple of snakes slither across this old body.

I did see one dog. He had a bell hanging off of his collar and he was hunting hard. He went right by me without a glance. I heard a couple of shots shortly after he went by, but, nobody came this way. Darn the luck. I almost wish that deer hunter would have seen me. Any port in a storm.

Storms? Did I say “storms”? My goodness I’ve seen it all now; snow storms, ice storms, and terrible, horrible, frightening lightening storms. What a life. What a lack of a life!

There was a terrible rainstorm last week. It came down so hard that I thought I was going to be able to float right out of here. Not quite, but, I did slide down the hill a little ways and I’m out in the open now. I’m going to miss that big old Oak tree, it gave me a lot of protection, but I can see a lot more out here and maybe someone will see me.

I think I just heard some people talking! It sure sounds like talking. It’s been so long, I’m not really sure. Yes! I can see them through the trees. There’s a man and a woman walking through a clearing. They’re carrying big orange packs on their backs.

Hey! Over here! Save me!

Oh no! They’re walking on by.

Hey, come on! This way! I’ll be blasted. They stopped down there in that clearing and took off those big orange packs and now they’re just standing there looking around.

“Roy, I think we should camp here tonight,” the lady said. “I’m bushed and this is a nice level spot and there’s lots of firewood around. Let’s quit for the day.”

“Whatever you want to do, honey. I thought we might make it back tonight, but, I’m bushed too.” Roy said. “And, you’re right, this is a nice spot. I’ll set up the tent and we’ll just spend the last night of our honeymoon right here.”

Honeymoon, shoneymoon! Just find me! Please! I don’t think I’m going to last much longer if somebody doesn’t get me out of here and get a fresh coat of paint on me. All right, he’s heading this way. What the heck is he doing behind that tree? Oh, yeah. I remember. Every so often people do that.

“There’s lots of firewood up here, honey, I’ll bring a load back with me and….Hey! What the heck is this? No way. Sandy! Hey Sandy! Look what I found.”

Yes! Yes! Yes! I’m being rescued. At last I’m going somewhere.

“Roy, what in the world is that decoy doing up here?” Sandy asked.

“Sandy,” Roy said, “I have no idea how it got here. This area could never flood and it sure isn’t on the way to anywhere. When I first saw it, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I don’t suppose we’ll ever figure it out and I know nobody back home will believe us, but, isn’t it something?

To make a long story even longer, they packed me out with them the next day and we came to a place filled with cars and pickups. They loaded me into the back of a beat up old 1960 Ford station wagon and we headed up the road. I listened to some pretty interesting conversation for the next two days.

Roy and Sandy were down here on their honeymoon, so I can’t relate all the conversations I overheard. But, they found me in a place called the Mark Twain National Forest. That’s somewhere in Missouri. I realize I started out as a tree, but I don’t ever want anything to do with forests again. Not ever!

They live out in western Nebraska, near a town called North Platte. When we got to their place, they unloaded me and took me in the house, but I got a quick look around outside. They live out in the country and there aren’t any big hills and there are hardly any trees. Just grass. Lots and lots of grass. Miles and miles of grass. Mind you, I’m not complaining, if I never see over three trees at one time again, I’ll be happy.

Chapter Seventeen

I’ve lived with Don and Sandy for five years. They raise cattle and kids; four hundred head of cows and heifers, a couple of hundred calves, and one and one half kids, so far. We live out in the middle of the tall grass; the sandhill country of western Nebraska, . They’re great people. But, unfortunately for me, Don doesn’t waterfowl hunt and I’m getting awfully bored sitting here in the living room.

Don does some woodworking in the winter and he really did a job on my finish a couple of years ago. He sanded it down and put on three coats of paint. He even fixed my poor old broken tail! Not quite the feather detail ol’ Heinz applied, but it sure feels good to look good.

I can see out through a big window from where I sit. It sure is a change from other places I’ve lived. There’s miles and miles of grass, a big barn, a bigger machine shed, and lots of cows and calves. A lot of mallards and geese migrate through every fall and spring. That gives me hope.

It’s just too bad that Don doesn’t hunt.

He spends so much time outdoors working on the ranch that he just doesn’t have a spare minute for hunting or, evidently, the inclination.

Everyone who comes to visit hears the story of how I wa found. Nobody has believed them yet. I can tell by the way they smile and raise their eyebrows. Hmmph! Sometimes truth really is stranger than fiction.

Sandy’s younger brother Joe just lumbered through the door. He’s a big strapping kid who helps out on the ranch. They’re sitting down to dinner. It’s Sandy’s award winning roast beef, taters and gravy. At least Don saysshe should get an award for it.

Hmmm?? He’s talking about hunting. I mean, HUNTING!

“I know you really value that decoy you found, but he sure would look good in our spread”. Joe said. “We don’t have many dekes yet, espcially anyhat look that good. We plan on field hunting, and I’d sure take good care of him.”

“Joe,” Sandy said, looking him squarely in the eye, “I guess we could let you use him. But, by God, you have to promise me that you won’t let him sit out at night and that you’ll bring him back when the season is over.”

“No problem, Sis, no problem. Guaranteed.”

They said “yes”!

Yes! Yes! Yes!

***

Joe took me out of the pickup and is carrying me out across the “field” and sitting me down on the dirt next to a bunch of short yellow stumps sticking out of the ground. There are long rows of these stumps as far as I can see in any direction and there isn’t a drop of water anywhere. I can hardly wait to get back in the water. They must be going to put the anchors on us soon.

I feel kind of like my first trip out with Heinz and Grant. But, by God, I’m out.

I think I just got fooled again! It sure is tough when you don’t understand what’s going on.

There are lots of other decoys out here with me. Quite an odd assortment, if I don’t say so myself. Some of them are made of tires. There are some of those poor old skinny things that only have one leg and even some made of, well, they kind of look like Sandy’s stockings. Those real long ones that she wears when she’s going someplace important. There is a pretty fair breeze blowing this morning and they’re billowing out and wiggling around. They look almost like geese waddling. I think I’m the only decoy here who could swim, but, since there isn’t any water, it doesn’t make much difference.

Sitting here, I can see Lars take the pickup and drive it back down to the road and park it in a bunch of trees. That’s good. At least they got that part right.

He walked back and now he and Joe are moving some boards and climbing down in a hole in the ground. I wondered why I couldn’t see a blind anywhere. That’s pretty clever.

I’m close enough to that hole so that I can hear them talking. Especially when they stand up and look around.

“Lars,” Joe said, “I wish we’d have put the pit about fifty yards further north right on top of the hill.”

“Nope. I think it will be fine right where it is.” Lars replied. “When the geese come, they will more than likely want to land on top of the hill and then we can take them when they swing to make that final approach.

“You know, Mr. Hartman did us a big favor when he let us put this pit in his cornfield instead of making us use a blind. I really think this is the ticket. Those above ground blinds work, but not like a pit.”

AHA! Corn Stalks!!! Corn is what geese eat. I remember the Big Guy once said that the geese would be back to the river soon with their bellies full of corn and their tongues hanging out looking for a drink. This must be a corn field. Maybe this is where the geese come to eat. Maybe, just maybe…...

“Heronk! Heronk!”

All righty then! Yes sir! We got them ol’ boys figured out. Here they come and, my God, just look at how many of them there are! There are hundreds of geese in the air. Maybe thousands! They’re heading straight for this field, too. That first bunch is going to make a swing right over the pit. They’re already letting the air out, dropping their feet, and they’re having to backpedal like hell to get in with no wind blowing.

KA-BOOM! KA-BOOM! KA-BOOM! KA-BOOM!

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK

Hey, those guys can shoot! Four big ol’ Canada geese out of the first flock. On four shots! They don’t have a dog and they haven’t gotten out to retrieve the birds yet. But, I guess they won’t float away. Har De Har Har!

Here comes another flock already. My gosh, they’re coming right down the pike too! They dropped their landing gear and they’re backpedaling.

Hey! Bobsey twins! You gonna’ shoot or not! C’mon, let’s do it! Huh! What’s going on? Those geese are in! They’ve settled right in amongst us and are starting to feed. And there’s another bunch almost in and about eight gazillion more coming. Ouch! Hey, go peck someone who has feathers!

I can see both of those boys sticking their heads up along the edge of the pit. They keep peeking out and watching. I guess they’re not shooting any more. Geese just keep coming in and they’re scratching around and finding all kinds of yellow kernels to eat. That must be corn. Ouch! Another cheap shot. I don’t care much for being pecked but there isn’t any way I can fight back. I reckon I’m at the bottom of the pecking order.

That last gander that pecked me is still looking at me. Looking at me kind of quizzically. Kinda nervous. Maybe he just realized what is going on. Yep. He’s started talking and the others are talking back. Man, are they loud. And there they go. The noise of hundreds of flapping wings surrounding you is quite an experience. I can’t believe the cloud of dust they’ve put up in the air.

Joe and Lars just climbed out of the pit. Their mouths are hanging open in awe. Mine would be too, if it could. That was an incredible sight.

“Jeez, Joe,” said Lars, “I hope we didn’t spook them off for good. They weren’t here very long. They must have seen us.”

“I don’t think we spooked them that badly,” said Joe. “They’ll be back tomorrow, I think. They just got their bellies full. It’s been so nice that they aren’t burning up energy like they will be later on when it’s bitter cold. They may come back this evening but let’s leave ‘em alone and try ‘em again in the morning. Sound like a plan?”

“You betcha.” Lars replied. “Pickin’ four of these big ol’ boys is enough work for the rest of the day. We’ll just do this again in the morning. I sure do like that decoy Don and Sandy loaned us. He puts the other decoys to shame and he makes the spread look real.”

“There’s something about him that I just can’t put my finger on, but I think he’s got that magic touch. Heck, let’s name him Magic.”

“That sounds good to me”, said Joe. “He sure adds some magic to the spread. I wonder if Don and Sandy made that story up about finding him in the middle of a forest. If that’s really where they found him, I’d sure like to know how he got there. That would be quite a story.”

These guys are OK. They picked up all the decoys and put us in the pit. It is darker than dark in here, you might even say butt crack dark, but it’s dry. They put me carefully on top. I must really be something. Sometimes I feel that way.

***

A vehicle door slammed a few minutes ago so it must be getting on towards morning. You sure couldn’t prove it in here. Now I can hear voices and it sounds like my new owners coming back.

“Mornin’ fellas,” Lars said as he opened the lid on the blind. That must be a universal greeting among goose hunters. At least to their decoys. I’ve been called a fella or fellow all my life. It’s still pitch dark and the wind is whipping right along out of the north. I sure hope these guys have a stove in here.

They set us up just like yesterday. Except that I’m turned the other direction. I’m positioned downwind where I can’t see the blind, but I should be able to see anything that falls. That’s always quite a sight to see. I do miss the “splash” and shower of water those big boys make when they hit. The “smack” and poof of dust just isn’t the same.

There is one thing about corn field hunting that I still haven’t quite figured out. There are all these round brown piles scattered around and they don’t smell very good. Actually, they smell quite bad. I noticed the boys are real careful to step around them and they keep the decoys away from them, too. But I can still smell ‘em.

I heard some cows moving around last night. I haven’t seen them so they must be back over towards the road. I wonder if they have anything to do with these brown round piles?

By golly those boys do have a stove in there. It’s kind of nice being downwind when the cooking starts. Whatever it is they’re cooking sure smell a lot better than the brown rounds.

“Heronk! Heronk!”

You better shut the stove off boys, here comes company! These birds are a little warier today. They made a pass back behind the pit. Then they made a swing off to the east, and now they’ve made a big swing out to the south and they’re fighting the wind back to us. Oh no! They pulled off at the last minute. Sure wish I could see behind me. I wonder what the heck happened. They were still out quite a ways, but they were sure comin’.

“Moo!”

Moo? Moo? Oh no! Those cows must have moved up to the pit. I can hear them coming through the cornstalks behind me now. Good mornin’ Mrs. Cow. And how’s your calf today? Obnoxious little devil, isn’t he? Hey bud, get your wet nose off of me! He slobbers worse than ol’ Buck used to. Git! Git outta here!”

No wonder those geese pulled off. I can hear the guys yelling now. They are saying some very unpleasant things to those cows. I don’t blame them. The cows are just standing there, looking at them and slobbering, and. . . Oh! The cows do have something to do with the round brown piles.

At least they are wandering off in the right direction and I see a flock of geese off to the south that I think are heading this way. Yep. Get down guys!

“Lars”, Joe whispered, unnecessarily, “there’s a million geese off to the south coming right at us! Piles of ‘em. Get back in the pit and quit throwing corncobs at those cows.”

Somewhere along the way these guys learned to do it right. They don’t call unless the geese are really hung up. That bunch that came in after the cows left never missed a wing beat and they came in silent as a winter night. Not a peep. Not till the boys pulled up and shot. And then it was too late, they got another four bagger. These guys are good.