Guest Post by John Lillibridge (with John Pfister)
There were more Canada geese at Nanuk than any of us had ever seen there. They were sitting on every flat in all directions as far as the eye could see.
We arrived for goose hunting at Nanuk on September 4, and it was a beautiful day. My guide, Kevin Brightnose, hunted with “California John” and me last year, and is probably the best goose guide I’ve ever used.
Not sure that I can adequately describe a couple of spectacular performances by the geese while we were there: One morning on a clear, cloudless sunny day a group of about 300 snows/blues, obviously flight birds, tired and wanting to eat, appeared over us, already locked up when we saw them. Compared to some formations which seem to be in disarray, groups and different levels, these birds were in perfect formation, every bird with wings locked as they came down, gravity versus wind. I never saw a goose flap its wings.
I was in disbelief as I watched them approach. I suspect they were all talking, but with my ear plugs and poor hearing, I didn’t hear a sound. They never wavered about coming in, despite the fact that we did not have a large spread of decoys. On they came, slow and sure, heads twisting but bodies staying right in place and in order. But the event had to end, and when they got right in front of us, 15-20 yards high, I stood up and started shooting. Probably the best descent of that type I’d ever seen.
Later that same day we watched at least three swarms of black geese in mid-afternoon. I don’t know what disturbed the geese, but they all got up about the same time, started milling around, and finally they all merged about half-a-mile from us over the coast. Then they turned and started for us. They kept getting lower and lower, aiming straight at us.
The stream was far too wide for us to watch it all and it started to fall apart a couple hundred yards in front of us. But a big bunch, a thousand maybe, kept driving right toward us, and pretty soon they were 10 yards high, right in front of us with their feet starting to come down. I was desperately trying to find a white goose in the mess, as I already had a limit of black geese. I finally spotted a lone blue goose and managed to shoot him without disturbing any others. It was one of my finest hours, if I ever had one. They must have been talking too, but I didn’t hear a thing.
I’ve now hunted at Nanuk about 250 days over 15 years, three tours in the spring. And I have kept diaries for all those years. Every goose I’ve shot is in one of the diaries. Some hunters, knowing I have kept such records, have asked me, “What is the best time to come to Nanuk?” Looking at all the data I have, including number of geese taken by day, from August 21 to September 20, it’s a hopeless piece of information. The figures are so jumbled that I can’t even make a guess at which is the best time.
I used to come in August, but it seemed the birds started to arrive a little later. I went back to my notes to see if I could tell what the most likely time was for the snows to arrive, when they would leave and when the big migrations took place. Again, it was a hopeless and an unsolvable equation. When the geese come off the nest, the weather, the wind, and who knows what other biological factors are influencing them, which makes the equation even more complicated. Wish I could solve it. I suppose if I could, we would shoot them all!
I hope it doesn’t read like I know anything about geese. I don’t, and I am not a good shot. Wish I was, and certainly as I grow older, my shooting skills will only get worse. But I’ve enjoyed so much all those days — the other hunters (who I always hoped had a good day) and Nanuk as a place.
I love Nanuk and will hate to leave it.
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