It was mind-numbingly cold on this mid December day in the forests of South Western Nebraska. I found myself smack dab in the middle of a goose blind sitting alongside my brother and father, with his good friend Robbie sitting on the other side.
"Why did I ever sign up for this?!" I thought to myself as we approached 4 hours of sitting in the blistering cold with not so much as one goose flying overhead to show for our troubles.
This would be the first time I had flown back to my old college town in several years since I had left. It was good to see the old sites and a lot of our extended family members, but it would have been more enjoyable had we come at a different time of year. However, the entire reason for the trip was for the goose hunt, so guess I can't complain all that much.
My dad's friend, Robbie, has a hunting cabin located on the Platte River, which is about a 2 hour drive from where we were staying with our extended family.
So, we decided we would stay at the cabin the night before so that we could make it out to the river before dawn. That is when the geese are most active. Often flying around daybreak and then again usually at dusk as well. However, sometimes they just fly right in the middle of the day just for the hell of it. You can never be too certain with those wile geese!
After not seeing a single goose fly all morning our spirits were beginning to drop. Not only had we not seen any geese flying, we hadn't even heard them. We also hadn't seen any ducks flying either, which was a little unusual considering they usually were more plentiful than geese on this part of the river.
The small goose blind was significantly warmer than the outside temperature because we had a tiny foot heater in the middle of the blind, but significantly warmer than 8 degrees Fahrenheit still is not all that warm. Why we sat out there hour after hour in that bitter cold weather still has me shaking my head to this day. I guess when you drive over a thousand miles for a winter hunting trip you tend to stick things out a little longer than you normally would.
As the hours added up and it approached lunch time, we whipped out our favorite hunting trip lunch; baloney and mustard sandwiches on white bread... any other occasion I would find these things repulsive, but something about being out in the elements with not much food makes these things taste amazing.
After lunch still not a single bird had flown our way, not one. So we did what any good-natured man in Nebraska might do, we started to drink! Nothing too hard, just a little peppermint schnapps and some shots of whisky to keep our insides warm and our spirits up.
Another hour slowly rolled by, although much more enjoyably now that we started drinking. The temperature had increased slightly as well as the sun had come out and started shining a little. However, the clouds building to the west of us told us that the sunshine would not last all that long. It was looking like we were due for a winter storm in just a couple hours around sunset.
Just about that time we spotted a lone bird in the distance. It appeared to be flying right for us. As it approached my dad yelled out that it was just a water duck, not a mallard or a goose. My brother and I said, "so, we haven't seen anything else today, lets take a shot!" Rob and my dad both laughed and agreed. We crouched down getting ready to spring the roof off the blind when the duck was close enough.
Sure enough the duck flew right in front of us. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! At least 4 shots rang out. I tried to reload to get another shot off as I was certain my first shot had missed, but by the time I was ready to shoot the duck was falling out of the sky into the river. That was the most exciting 3 seconds we had up to that point by far! Excitedly we yelled out, "who shot the duck?"
I was first to respond and said I was pretty sure I missed the duck as he kept flying after I shot. My brother also said he thought he missed the duck as well because he rushed his shot. My dad was next and he said he didn't even shoot. That left Robbie...
We asked Robbie if it was him that hit the duck. He looked towards us and is response was quite humorous! With slightly slurred speech he said, "Hit the duck? I can't hit nothing! I'm drunk!"
We all burst out laughing wondering who indeed shot that duck. However, in our hearts we knew it must have been Robbie because both my brother and I had certainly missed. So, drunk Robbie was able to get 2 shots off and was still better aim than the both of us... I guess that is what happens when you spend your entire life living in Nebraska. :)
As we settled back into the goose blind, the storm that had been building up to the west started rolling in...
To be continued in Part II tomorrow...
Image Sources:
http://www.manuelmarangoni.it/onemind/3957/come-si-formano-i-venti-e-quali-sono-i-tipi-di-vento/
http://www.howtogeek.com/91769/winter-storm-clouds-on-the-horizon-wallpaper/
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A solid start to this story, looking forward tot he next part now. Namaste :)
Great story! Looking forward to the next part.
Thanks Tom! It was my favorite hunting trip ever, although you can't really tell that so far... ;)
Interesting beginning to the story. Looking forward to see what's in store for theses schnapps drinking hunters!
Stay tuned!
Coool!
What was your favorite part?
Drunk Robbie)
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No soporto el frio y con frio como ese seguro que muero de hipotermia
Omg that looks cold, And that poor duck bless it