MissouriWhitetails.com

"Passing It On"
By Rusty Waite

It was a cold dark morning, but I knew with the sunrise all the effort would be worth it. At the boat ramp there was a light skim of ice but the cove was open so we hurriedly put on the last layers of clothing and loaded our gear into the boat. The clucking of geese on the lake, lots of them, only increased the anticipation of the day to come. Would we be the only ones wanting THE SPOT, or had someone else been watching them too and get the same idea. 

After some choice words and a little coaxing the old motor came to life and we were off. As we putted around the end of the rock dike that protected the boat ramp, we hit a little skim ice, but the sound of the several hundred geese on the lake had our undivided attention. Then we hit it, ICE, ¼ inch thick ice! Gradually the moon peaked out from behind the clouds and we could see that the entire lake had frozen overnight! Putting fear behind, and some might argue losing all sensibility, we continued our trek across the shimmering ice. Wondering the whole way whether the old boat would survive another foray such as this. 

The old boat survived the ½ mile torture and upon reaching THE SPOT we discovered it was also the only piece of open water in sight. Things were really starting to look up now, especially since we had the lake to ourselves! After moving the boat twice and repositioning the decoys three times we decided we were setup as good as we could be and crawled under our burlap to await the first flights of the morning.

Witnessing a sunrise seems to cleanse the soul and make a person more aware of their surroundings, and this one was no different. Words alone cannot begin to describe the emotions, its something you have to experience to fully understand. Let’s just say it’s magical!

As the sun gradually rose in the east, the lake came alive with waterfowl. Squadrons of fat Mallards, the drakes green heads, shimmering in the mornings first rays of light traded up and down the lake, occasionally flying over so close you could see their red legs tucked up against their bodies. Wave after wave of Common Mergansers flying in tight formation just above the surface of the undulating ice looking for open water. Their guttural grunts echoing up and down the lake. To bad duck season had closed only 3 days earlier.

It’s the geese we are here for today, and they have held up their end of the deal. Scattered across the frozen surface in clusters of fifty or more. Waddling across the ice like soldiers in a row, and squabbling amongst themselves over nothing in particular. I take out my call and start mimicking them much like an orchestra prepares for their evening show. After conversing with the only competition we had on this morning, I decided I was warmed up and I sat back to let the events unfold before me. To say our confidence was high is an understatement.

The wait wasn’t long. A flock of twelve makes its way back to the lake from the west, returning from feeding all night in one of the surrounding fields. Wanting a drink and some rest before doing it again later in the day. The birds on the ice fire up their calls and I do likewise, imitating their calls as best as I can. Some encouragement from my brother adds fuel to my fire and I increase the tempo. We’ve been here before!

The group continues their flight path to the east until they reach the center of the lake and then they make a left turn and start coming directly at us! Will they continue on their course or will they land with their friends on the ice? I pick up the tempo another notch and the birds rise a little and keep coming. I tone it down a bit and hit them with a lay down call at 75 yards, their wings lock and I know we have fooled them. 


When I make the call they are right above us about thirty yards up, necks stretched out, heads turning from side to side. I select a goose on my side of the boat and calculate my lead. My first shot catches the tail feathers so I extend my lead some more and slap the trigger again. Shot number two puffs feathers from his breast and he franticly back-peddles trying to gain altitude. Number three catches him square and he folds cleanly and plummets to the water. My brother took one with his three shots, so now that we’ve knocked the rust off our shooting and have warmed up our bodies with some action, we’re ready for more.

I get out of the boat and pick up our empties and adjust the decoys slightly to account for the changing wind. I stand there wishing out loud I had my dog with us so she could get some work but we know there would be no way to hide her from the sharp eyes of our quarry with the lake as low as it is. I hear geese to the North of us so I scramble back to the boat and hide under my burlap.

A flock of 15 makes its way down the lake, so I grab my call and start imitating the birds on the ice, who are trying their best to get the attention of the ones in the air. Being in the right spot has paid off once again because they can clearly see the only open water is right in front of us. This time I call sparingly and inside I know these birds are going to come in. Our vision was partially obscured behind us, but when they came over the trees it seemed as if their wingtips were brushing against the leaves. 

When I called the shot they were looking like B-52’s on a bombing run just twenty yards up and right on top of us. Suffice to say when the smoke cleared we had taken our last two birds and there was a lot of backslapping and high fives. We picked up the decoys and started the trip back across the lake, breaking ice all the way. 

Once we reached the boat ramp and returned to the real world I asked my brother what time it was. I thought his watch was wrong, there was no way it was only 8:30. We relieved the morning’s events as we loaded our gear into the truck. The ride home was rather quiet until we reached the turnoff to the blacktop that leads to our house. I looked at my brother and said, ”you know mornings like this don’t happen that often.” He looked at me and replied, “ you know you’re right.”

A couple of days ago I was relieving this hunt in my mind, when memories of spending time with my father started coming up. The time we shared together chasing various critters around the woods and waters of my youth are ones I will cherish for the rest of my life. The values that were instilled in me, the respect that he taught me for other living creatures and the good times we shared in pursuit of our ever elusive quarry, are something that will follow me down the path that has been chosen for me. 

Jarred from my dream of days in the past, my daughter asks if we might be going into town today? My reply is no but then I ask her if she is interested in shooting up some of that ammo for her 22 that’s been gathering dust over the winter.

The look in her eyes tells me all I needed to know!