The family farm in Mississippi County used to attract northbound Canada geese by the thousands as they made their annual migration northward. We marveled at the beauty and grace of the magnificent birds as they loitered in our winter wheat field. Additionally, we longed to hunt the penguin colored birds, but waterfowl seasons were set in stone as fall and winter sports. Little did we know that within our lifetimes we would be able to hunt geese, albeit snow geese, during the spring migration.
My first experience with snow geese proved unforgettable. A swirling, deafening cloud of white geese moved across the harvested rice field like an out of control tornado. The tip of the mass of flying feathers dipped towards the ground in typical funnel cloud fashion only to rise skyward and circle the field again and again. Unlike an indiscriminant tornado, the whirling mass of snow geese exhibited utmost caution before finally coming to rest in the rice field stubble.
For reasons largely misunderstood, the light geese populations of North America exploded a few decades ago. Scientists have blamed everything from changing agricultural practices in the Midwest to global warming. Many other influences probably play a role in the dramatic take-off of the light geese, including politics and wildlife management practices.
The population explosions of white geese caught wildlife managers so off guard that they implemented a special conservation order to allow an additional hunting season for them. Oops, it is not a hunting season – per a liberal judge who first blocked the request of professionally trained biologists who asked for an extension of the hunting season. That proved to be less than politically correct. Since the geese had become so abundant that they were destroying their own nesting areas in the tundra and consequently ruining the habitat for other critters that shared the tundra, the kind judge felt something had to be done to reduce the snow goose population for the good of the habitat and its inhabitants. A Conservation Order would do the trick.
Missouri’s snow goose season usually runs from the middle of October through January 31 with a daily limit of 20 and no possession limit. The Conservation Order normally begins February 1 and runs through April 30 with no bag limit. Too, Conservation Order participants may use unplugged shotguns and electronic callers.
The liberals tried everything from egg shaking to timed cannons to reduce the population growth of light geese, but all attempts failed. Wonder how much tax payer money they blew on those efforts? As a last resort, they tried to coyly attract the help of…….hunters to help reduce the populations.
What a gift considering that snow geese are not very high on the list of desirable waterfowl, thus the name sky carp. They taste like strong liver. Too, the birds are darned hard to hunt. They fly high and are very difficult to decoy. Spreads of 1,000 plus decoys are required to attract a flock. Then the downside is that the birds are not as predictable as Canada geese. Snows will fly long distances to find a food source. Shoot at them in a field today equals not shooting at them there tomorrow. They will move on. Canada geese will often return.
The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service was not sure in the first few sweason if hunting had helped reduce the population since the inception of the Conservation Order in 1999. The number of light geese harvested in ’99 doubled from 300,000 to 600,000 and has continued to increase each year as hunters learn how to hunt the light geese. Hunters have now begun to make a dent in the burgeoning populations.
While hunters continue to enjoy their part in the management program, wildlife managers continue to try to figure out what they should do. They do like to manage. It is in their titles. Wildlife management is a relatively new science, and the current problem with snow geese is most likely the first recorded explosion in modern history. Mother Nature is the ultimate manager and she is not always kind. Wildlife populations often explode when the conditions are right. Mother Nature provides her own checks and balances. The snow geese are well on their way to destroying their fragile tundra habitat. Once the food sources are depleted, snow geese will starve by the millions and the slow, but sure, cycle will begin again. The habitat will take a long time to recover as will the populations of snow geese. In the meantime, men will continue to try to help the problem with Conservation Orders and the like.
Liberalizing seasons on exploding wildlife populations, at a late date in the cycle, have built in limiting factors. How many pickup loads of snow geese can one family consume? Besides, when is the last time you tried to get your kid to eat liver? Multiply the bad taste factor by 10 and you get the idea of what snow goose tastes like. Necessity is the mother of invention, however. Recipes are now available for snow goose jerky and sausage. Leave that in your kids’ Christmas stockings next year. You are sure to get an early notice of the nursing home they have chosen for you.
Stars twinkled overhead in the cold March sky as our hunting party put the finishing touches on a 900-decoy snow goose spread. We had confidence in our abilities to call the crafty birds. The low, murmuring roar of 50,000 snow geese roosting on a shallow 40-acre rice pond less than a half-mile away teased our anticipation to a nervous fervor.
We hooked up with Kyle Dekriek of Flyway hunting Club in Sikeston, Missouri. DeKriek holds access to some of the finest waterfowling spots in the Midwest.
DeKriek monitors snow goose movements on a daily basis when flights begin to arrive on their return trip north. “Bill, you gotta come down for this,” He had said on the phone. “The place we hunt is a rice field that had a third of the grain knocked onto the ground by a torm. Too, the landowner has flooded 40-acres to help hold the geese. It is phenomenal.”
Our foursome stood in the fading darkness watching the massive body of snows and blues as they jostled around on the gleaming water on the horizon. Birds began leapfrogging towards the north shore. Each group that moved forward seemed to be teasing the others that they might start the morning flight to the feeding grounds. But, the time wasn’t quite right. How could such a mass of geese co-ordinate a lift-off plan? What force, unknown and unsensed by humans would begin the daily ritual feeding flights of 50,000 snow geese?
DeKriek surveyed the situation like a battle scarred general preparing for another encounter. He murmured that the wind had changed a little, and instructed us to turn the wind sock decoys so that they would fill and swing in the breeze. His attention to detail commanded our respect.
Stretching wires from his hide on the ground to two Lohman electronic callers, DeKriek brought life to the 900 decoys. The callers made almost as much noise as the birds we hoped to attract to our position.
As if by some unknown cue, thousands of snows and blues lifted off the water in unison. There should have been an orchestra to celebrate the moment. The moving mass headed straight for us. We all lay down quickly, and shuffled rice stubble over our bodies to break up our outlines.
The rumble became a deafening roar. The sky disappeared. The squelch of the electronic callers melted into the high-pitched wails of the 5,000 geese in the first wave. At 100 yards the flock looked low enough to swat with a boat paddle. “Let ‘em come,” General DeKriek instructed. My mind flashed back to a similar order decades previously. “Wait ‘til I tell you to shoot.”
More gargantuan hordes of geese lifted off. Within minutes the sky looked like a boiling cauldron of living animals. Flocks of geese flew on collision courses as the groups circled and circled and circled. They seemed to enjoy creating the tornado effect.
The command caught me by surprise. “Shoot ‘em!” DeKriek commanded. The first bird I fired at crumpled, stone dead. The second sailed down. My third shot resulted in the shot pillow effect, but someone else in the party put the bird down for good. It rained geese for a few seconds. DeKriek had fired all nine shots from the extension tubes on his Benelli!
“Reload,” came the order. “They will hit us with another wave.” A cold shiver worked its way up my spine.
For information about hunting with Kyle DeKriek, check his website at www.flywayhuntingclub.com.
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