North border stops can fray nerves

PEMBINA, N.D. - Every border crossing is different, as smugglers will tell you. The same is true for hunters crossing into Canada and returning to the United States. Sometimes they're waved through without question. Other times they and everything they own are torn inside out. Or they're denied entry altogether.

Particularly since 9/11, hunters -- and to a lesser degree, anglers -- possess the same feelings of trepidation some friends and I had the other evening when we left this small North Dakota border town headed for the Manitoba line. Our checklist: We weren't carrying too much liquor. Or any tobacco. Or dope. And we weren't over our 200-rounds-per-hunter ammunition allotment. Also, we had a health certificate for our dog, passports, vehicle registration ... and guns.

This last, we knew, would earn us a trip into the Canadian Customs office to sign firearms importation certificates and pay fees for the privilege.

What we didn't know was whether we would be tripped up by a new Canadian rule or regulation, or perhaps by something we had forgotten.

Why the nervousness? Because since 9/11 particularly, countless hunters and anglers have run afoul of one U.S. or Canadian customs agent or another while going to or returning from Canada.

I have a friend, for example, who was busted by U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service agents a couple years back at the border crossing north of Rugby, N.D. He and his partners were returning from a Saskatchewan hunting trip and had double-checked to ensure they had their limits of birds and no more.

After showing their passports to a U.S. Customs agent, my friend was told to drive his pickup into a nearby garage, where Fish and Wildlife Service agents waited. In the garage, my friend took a bite of a nearly finished sandwich, whereupon an agent asked what the sandwich was made of. "Duck," my friend said.

The agents then unloaded everything from my friend's truck, counted and identified legal limits of ducks and geese -- and cited my friend for an overlimit of ducks.

"The sandwich puts you over," an agent said.

Another time, I had my sons with me but had forgotten to bring the required letter from my wife saying it was OK that the kids accompany me into Canada. I thought I might catch a break because the boys didn't appear to be under duress (disheveled, yes). But it wasn't to be. This occurred about 2 a.m., and a Canadian Customs agent called my home repeatedly until my wife finally awoke to give her approval.

Did I mention that Canada treats drunken driving as a felony and won't allow Americans convicted of the offense in the U.S. into their country? As a result, Canadian customs agents turn back hundreds, if not thousands, of unsuspecting hunters and anglers each year.

This includes Americans who have DWIs on their records who arrive by commercial airline. Routinely, these visitors are held at their Canadian arrival airport until a return flight is booked.

Arriving by private airplane ensures no more gracious treatment. Friends who flew into Winnipeg recently in their plane were led by customs agents at the airport to separate rooms, where they were questioned about their itineraries, past trips to Canada and other subjects.

The other evening, as we approached the U.S.-Canada border crossing just north of Pembina, the sprawling facility appeared from a distance to be a small airport.

When asked by a Canadian Customs agent, we produced our passports, then entered the Customs building. Our firearms documents proved no problem. And there were no tricky questions. But we were stuck for a while behind some poor guy from Indiana who had his kids with him -- but no note from his wife.

Soon, however, we were waved through, minus $50 in gun fees.

The return trip through U.S. Customs also went smoothly. Unlike our trip from Manitoba two years ago, our truck and gear weren't completely unloaded and our birds counted and identified, one by one.

When asked by a U.S. Customs agent this time, we simply produced our passports, filled out wildlife importation certificates. And drove home, relieved.

Dennis Anderson • danderson@startribune.com