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Today was a great day but it wasn’t because I did something neat at work, rather because over my lunch time I walked over to the local post office and purchased my Waterfowl permit and stamp for this years much anticipated season. On September 6th, Canada goose opens in farmlands in my area and I can not wait to hit my friends farm.

Since the fields are separated by small creeks, waders are necessary to remain dry, but this is where I have been disappointed in my choices in waders. A couple of years ago, I purchased a pair of Allen waders and they lasted no more than two seasons and then from there it was.. You guessed it “Little Shoe Goo” time.

At first it was just a few spots here and there but in no time my waders started to look like an art masterpiece, but they are functional and this is what I am all about. Tough on gear but practical. I do not want to purchase a pair of waders every two years and I believe that lifetime warranties are about as sure as sky busting a shot at a goose that is at the same height of the tree tops.

I am also equipped with a second set of waders for friends when they come along but it is the neoprene model from Cabela’s. I find them difficult to put on unless you have Vaseline all over yourself and I find it hard to breathe.

For now I will let this blog cure and when opening day comes around, I will be in the great outdoors chasing those Canada’s.

Wish you all and amazing and safe season!

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My wadders hang silently in the garage by the d-ring, empty shells lay in a cracked red bucket on the cold cement floor. The shotgun now locked away in its cabinet with a fresh coat of gun oil, the smell flowing through the room and being absorbed into the wood of nearby furniture.

As I look on at a vintage photo of goose hunters, I wished that objects had voices, so that they could tell stories, that if not shared would be lost in the space which surrounds us. Stories that are worth sharing, cause it is part of who we are as waterfowlers and for me a proud Canadian outdoorsman.

Those are the very same wadders I wore on a special spring snow goose hunt north of Quebec City a few years ago with good friends. It was early in the afternoon and we had just brought down a few snow geese into the fields but one bird fell into the St Lawrence river and was being carried away.

The current was roaring to the south and the bird would disappear down on its shores, I could not let this one go. It was quite a ways out and amongst the huge ice blocks, but I had to retrieve the goose. So I stood up from my blind, unloaded my shotgun and left it behind with the other guys and ran after my bird.

First I headed toward the shore, cut through some brush and within seconds I was all alone. I kept on running along the banks for several minutes, like a boy chasing a plane. The terrain was getting more difficult to navigate and I was having to jump up and down ridges, sinking into the mud and eventually I jumped over a couple of tributaries.

All the while running after this famed goose, I could see that the current spirals were spinning the goose toward the shore but still quite a ways out. When I could, I reached out for a large twig that I had found on the ground which had a long enough branch and two angled branches at its end like human fingers.

Finally when the current slowed because of the huge ice blocks, I leapt into the St Lawrence dark waters up to my waist prodding at the bottom of the river to make sure I was not stepping into emptiness. Now only within a few meters, I managed to catch the goose with the wooden claws and pulled in the harvest.

On my way back when I breached the brush line and raised the bird into the air showing the boys that I had got it. I was a proud fellow and they burst out into a joyful laughter. These are memories of a lifetime, better yet this is a story that will not remain locked into those Allen wadders for eternity.  

 

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