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Posts Tagged ‘memories’


As a small game hunter, I find myself investing a tremendous amount of time in being observant, seeing things that others miss, and it is not just observing wildlife but also everyday life. I believe that we all possess this ability and it does not just apply to hunting, but in all walks of life.

A few months ago, I met a friend at work who happened to share the same passion for hunting, more specifically waterfowl hunting. And now as time goes on, we are sharing incredible hunts, building memories and hopefully if health continues we shall have awesome seasons to come.

I believe that in life, people and things happen like a meaningful coincidence. Sure you can set a goal and work toward it, but ultimately life will takes its course and this can take many forms, meeting new people that impact your life or an event which occurs and changes your direction.

For those who are truly observant will realize that nothing is just random, there is a purpose. You were meant to be there at that moment, or make that choice and in the end you accept and understand. The more time you spend in the wilderness, the sooner you will realize that you do not have control, life around you does.

And when you meet those people, it will be synchronicity. I’ve met many hunters in the past but to meet someone who has the same passion for the sport in their blood is rare, it is like a true waterfowl brotherhood.

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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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