Eva and I headed to a favorite riverside spot of mine. The bulk of the 400+ acres of public land is spruce and fir forest with flood breaks filled with maple, Aspen and cottonwood. The public land in this area is surrounded by small farms and little suburban neighborhoods. Our town is directly across the river from this spot.
Eva and I began working North off one of the main hiking trails. We slipped along a deer trail in one of the hardwood breaks between the only two open fields. The brush and trees are thick in this spot but the whole break is probably only 100' wide.
About 40 yards after leaving the main trail we spotted a few loose goose feathers. As we continued there were clumps of feathers, like some small predator had gotten a hold of a goose but had been hard pressed to finish it off. Thinking that we might find a coyote or a fox when we got to the kill I put a judo point on the string and began creeping along the trail. Eva, sensing my focus had gotten quiet and watchful as well.
Finally after another 30-40 yards of quiet stalking I spotted the body of a goose through the brush. Something was off though. The goose was too white to be a canada and it was too early in the year for any other species. Also this goose was much to big. As we slowly crept closer it began to move. The goose took a few staggering steps but then sat back down, for all appearances like an animal that is dying but still moving on adrenaline alone. As we got closer I realized why everything looked wrong. This was a domestic goose! The poor creature had one wing ripped off, an eye was hanging loose from the socket, blood dripped from a large gash in its chest. Looking at it I was filled with pity and began to put tension on the string, thinking to finish it off.
Some instinct stopped me. That feeling of eyes on you that we as hunters all know. I quickly replaced the judo on my sting with my best zwickey broadhead, scanning the woods for what I had missed. Fatherly instincts took over my hunters desire to find what triggered my reaction. Realizing I only had my bow and pocket knife to defend my daughter I decided I would feel much better if I were out in the open on either side of this break rather than in the thick brush in the middle. From previous knowledge I knew that the brush opened up in another 50 feet. From there I could easily get back into the open field.
Topic: Story Time (Read 1604 times)
