This is a quaint but true story of a fabled duck hunt that occurred almost 50 years ago on a small 150 acre farm in Lower Michigan. Exact whereabouts of this hunt location will still not be detailed today, to further protect the witnesses that still live today.

The hunt would start early one afternoon as a duck hunt by a single hunter, TT, on a small pond about 500 yards from the main barn. This pond was known to draw mallards, wood ducks, blue-winged teal and an occasional flock of Canadian geese as the birds would use it to feed and rest on its calm waters. Its obscure location out of sight of a nearby road often caused confusion of drivers passing by as they would gaze wonderingly as they saw flocks of ducks dropping in or geese side slipping to lose altitude to light upon its water. The hunter rarely had hunted as a boy due to living in a nearby city or even during his adult life, as he was to busy working to feed his family of a wife and four children. Eventually some of this responsibility dropped away as his family grew, married and moved away. That year he had read an article in Field & Stream that he found in his office waiting room about the virtues of duck hunting and had decided to investigate the possibility of arranging a hunt and giving it a try. I must apologize and digress back slightly to give the reader some background into this hunt.

He began to formulate where he would hunt locally and planned how to outfit himself to hunt these large mallards that frequented the area where he lived. He began reading and studying how to shoot a shotgun and the lead required to shoot the ducks and fleet teal he might encounter. Sufficiently armed with information from the articles in sporting magazines he had read, he talked to his wife about this new passion and gaining permission, he drove to the local sporting goods store to purchase a brand new model Winchester pump shotgun with a full choke. The salesman was delighted about the hunter’s purchase and as any good salesman promptly sold him additional accessories that he explained every duck hunter needed. The hunter, now armed and fully equipped, left the store with a new shotgun, two boxes of high brass #4’s, hip boots, socks, canvas pants reinforced at the knee, shooting vest, waterfowl coat with game pouch in the back, shooting gloves, several duck calls, and a canvas billed water fowlers’ cap. Having suffered through the Great Depression while raising his growing family, he chose not to practice with the shotgun at the trap range but to improve his shooting skills on the ducks that frequented his daughter’s and her husband’s farm where the small pond waited to welcome him and his new found hobby.

After calling and talking to the farmer himself about the planned hunt, the son-in-law, wishing to improve the relationship between himself and TT, gave permission for him to come on out later that week on Saturday afternoon about 4pm to hunt the small pond. Opening day duck season had occurred the week previously and TT, due to work obligations, could not get time off to be there waiting like so many other hunters that opening morning for first light. TT was excited that the hunt was finally on after missing opening day and explained later that he hardly could concentrate on work that week waiting for Saturday to arrive for his hunt.

The fateful day arrived and promptly at 4pm TT rolled into the farmers driveway in his family car and going to the side door let himself in to greet his daughter, her husband, and his three grandchildren all sitting at the kitchen table having supper. TT talked small talk with everyone for several minutes and then the husband noting his anxiety suggested he better get going as the ducks where going to start flying in soon at the pond to stay overnight. The farmer explained he had made TT a blind close to the blackberry patch on the southwest side of the pond as ducks liked to land in that area due to a westerly wind that normally blew from that direction. TT thanked the farmer, kissed his daughter on the cheek and hugged his grandchildren and hurried out the door to get his gun and gear. Unloading the car of all his purchased equipment and gun and appearing loaded down to the max, his daughter and husband watched from their kitchen window as he walked up the hill by the big barn in his hip boots looking like a dude right out of the L.L. Bean catalog.

The daughter turning to her husband and smiling at the image of her father so far out of his element disappearing over the hill, asked her husband if he thought TT would get this limit of ducks? The husband shaking his head no smiled at his wife, as having hunted all his life and during the depression while not yet a teenager had been required to keep the family table full of wild game. The family rule at this time of his life was that all the cattle and hogs were sold at market and not for the family to eat, as it was necessary to raise money by selling the farm animals to pay the bank payments on their farm. His family only ate the wild game he was able to harvest on a weekly basis and never were allowed to eat the animals that they grew on the family farm until well after the depression ended. Still chuckling, he started out the door after he called to his oldest son who was about 8 years old to hurry up and finish eating as chores still needed to be done for the farm animals that evening. As the farmer and his son went to the big barn to start their chores they both wondered how TT was doing as while watering the cattle they saw almost a dozen mallards wing over the barn and head for the small pond and began their gliding ascent into the small pond heading for the southwest corner.

Suddenly, the evening was ripped apart by the sound of three rapid shotgun blasts followed by two more in rapid succession reverberating against the woods and across the pond as quick as TT’s shotgun could extract spent shells and reload new ones. The farmer and his son looked knowingly towards the small pond and were somewhat surprised to see more than a dozen ducks lifting up from the pond scattering and wing away towards the west. The air again was rent by two more shots, a single shot and then two more muffled type finishing shots into the ground. A couple more minutes passed and as the farmer and his son finished watering the large cattle tank, the air again was pierced by a single finishing flat shotgun blast sounding like a “whap” into water. Finally, the evening dropped into silence and the farmer and his son finished their chores and proceeded to go back to the house after cleaning their boots and washing their hands in the barn faucet.

Almost an hour passed, and as the barn light came on at twilight the farmer noticed TT in the gloom topping the barn hill and staggering down the driveway towards the house. TT appeared to be carrying a great weight as he was weaving from side to side in his hip boots and the farmer noticed several large bird wings seemingly flopping against TT as he lurched down the hill towards the house. The farmer yelled at TT’s daughter that he was going out to help her dad as he seemed to have his limit and then some. The elder son followed his father outside to see if he could help and both father and son soon approached TT as the night darkness continued to fall. What they both saw stopped them dead in their tracks as TT’s grin said it all. Four large geese hung from TT’s make shift game lanyard made out of his suspenders that held up his hip boots. All four geese were huge compared to normal Canada geese easily going over 20# each. The farmer and his son shared a glance between them and the farmer's son started to speak but the farmer silenced him with a look sent between them. The farmer complimented TT on his birds and asked him if he could give him a hand with his harvest.

Finally, catching his breath TT began to grin widely and thanking his son-in-law who had to strain upward from the combined weight lifted the geese from TT’s shoulders and gently placed them on the ground. TT started to tell his hunting tale but the farmer stopped him with a wave of his hand and asked TT if the shotgun was unloaded. TT assured him it was as he had actually run out of shells shooting them all up to get the four birds even though two more birds in the flock had escaped his barrage of #4’s. At this point the farmer noticed the appearance of TT’s clothes, face and hands that looked like a buzz saw had been at work on his father-in-law. Hoisting the birds once again the farmer, his son, and TT headed to the house to hear and get the full and complete story of the hunt. Placing the geese in the mud room, the party entered the main house kitchen.

TT's hunting clothes and hip boots were removed in the house with the hip boots half full of water in each boot. His daughter tended to his scrapes and scratches on almost every inch of exposed skin on his head, face and hands dabbing at them with iodine and removing numerous small thorns that protruded from his skin. Getting the family to finally settle down in the living room, the farmer and his family set back to hear TT’s tale of his first duck hunt.

The episode began with TT explaining how he had walked around the edge of the pond heading for the southwest corner of the lake to the blind that he spotted that had been made for him previously. Arriving finally, out of breath he sat down on the bucket provided by the farmer and checking his equipment prepared himself to be ready for any ducks that came in to land for the night. After a couple of minutes sitting there he heard what he thought was rustling in the black berry brambles behind him. Moving slowly as he had read that was the correct procedure to do and looking out the side of his eye on that side he caught movement in the brambles but couldn’t at first make out what was behind him. Turning slowly on the bucket he was able to make out several geese in the brambles looking at him intently within 20 yards of where he sat. Raising his shotgun slowly per his read instructions as to not cause ducks or geese to flare, he sighted down the long barrel and pulled the trigger. Instant pandemonium, honking and bedlam exploded in the geese as the high brass #4 shredded brambles galore and buzzed like angry bees into one of the geese narrowly missing other members of the grouped flock. The goose fired upon crumbled in a heap and the remaining five tried desperately to gain altitude and rise into the air to escape the black berry brambles. Surprising they could not climb into the air and began to run through the brambles with TT firing at them as they ran and he managed to drop another goose. Losing sight of the four remaining, he sprinted from the blind as fast as possible reloading as best he could and plunged into the 6 foot high black berry brambles covered with thorns. He didn’t even realize at first what the thorns were doing to him and his clothes as he kept getting glimpses of the geese waddling as fast as they could maneuver and honking with all their might through the brambles trying to lose TT in the thick jungle of thorns.

A small opening in the brambles at 30 yards revealed the remaining geese briefly and TT seized the opportunity to fire rapidly downing another goose which required a couple of finishing shots to stop the flopping of its body in the brambles. The last three geese finally split with two staying to the brambles and starting to circle back towards the blind and the third goose breaking right towards the pond water and presumed safety. Both TT and the goose broke from the brambles simultaneously with the goose squawking madly and trying to fly but managing to fly only about 2 feet off the ground over the pond. TT leading the big goose and aiming at its head fired again with the 12 gauge for the final time. The goose disappeared temporarily in a spray of water as some of the #4’s did the job they were made to do and the remaining pattern slammed into the ponds water with the fourth goose hitting and skidding across the water in a cloud of feathers. The remaining two geese stayed in the brambles squawking continuously as TT waded out into the pond partially filling his hip boots with water and then squishing toward the brambles to collect the others.

As TT began to collect the remaining geese in the brambles, the brambles continued to catch at his clothes and tear at his exposed skin; here adrenaline flowing through your veins and arteries is a wonderful thing, as he scarcely felt the thorns tearing into his skin. Gathering up his geese, he now faced the dilemma on how to transport his bounty and all of his hunting equipment back to the farm. Being an engineer he assessed his equipment and then thought of using his suspenders as a carrying device for the geese. He promptly took them off and applied his years of engineering study in fastening the geese to his make shift goose lanyard and staggering under the weight of everything he had collected, he started slowly back to the house. Sighing deeply with exhaustion and pleasure from his hunt and finishing his tale of the hunt, he shyly asked the farmer for help in cleaning his quad of geese. The farmer kindly agreed, and in less than an hour TT was headed home to show his wife how successful he had been. Hundreds of new scratches obtained and what a provider for her he now was with his new hobby.

Going back into the house it was now after 9pm, and the wife had put the kids to bed and hour ago when the two men had left the house to clean the geese together. The husband went to the kitchen sink and began to clean his hands with borax soap to remove the blood from the geese and used a finger nail file kept there to remove the debris under his nails. His wife approached him from behind and placing her arms around his waist gave him a hug and thanked her husband for all he had done for her father that day. Turning to face her, he reached for a hand towel and began to chuckle softly to himself, his wife began to laugh loudly and was soon followed by her husband’s loud laughter. Getting out of my bed, I hurried to the kitchen to see my parents laughing together loudly and holding one another to keep from sinking to the floor. I had never seen my father laughing so hard to see tears coming from his eyes. My parents saw me standing in the entry way to the kitchen but still continued laughing until I to joined in. This is often a witnessed trait of human nature when seeing others laughing uproariously, one cannot help but laugh ourselves. When the laughing finally subsided by my parents and me, I asked the question that had been bothering me all evening, “why did grandpa shoot our tame geese?”

My father looking solemnly at both my mother and me and said he didn’t really know but suspected my grandfather, never really having had any experience as a hunter, mistook the tame geese for wild geese. Looking at my mother, my father began to chuckle again and said, “Can you imagine those geese trying to run away and attempting to fly with clipped wings, and TT going into those blackberry brambles to retrieve his geese and all those scratches he has now?” “I would love to have been there to see your father shooting, trying to reload, and running through those brambles.”

So ends the famous first time duck hunt by TT, my grandfather now over 50 years ago. Instead of the planned goose dinner for Christmas that year, we had baked chicken for supper, as we found out a few weeks later that the remaining two surviving geese were taken by predators.

By Brad Gordon

Brad “Hawghunter65” Gordon began at the tender age of eight years old with a .22, rabbit and squirrel hunting with his father on their family farm.  He was lucky enough to add pheasants and finally deer to his list of quarries during his teenage years of life.  In his fifties, he also began turkey hunting after Michigan began a exchange program of Canadian geese for wild eastern turkeys from Alabama.   Brad’s passion in hunting is equally divided between trophy mature bucks and big boss gobblers that roam his current hunting grounds.  He is married with five grown children and 5 grandchildren.  His hobbies besides hunting are fishing for bluegills, growing food plots, and the game of golf.