Nope, it’s the holiday weekend. Can’t, she won’t let me leave the yard. Ah I’d like to, but it’s not the right weather. I would, but all my gear is already put up for the winter.
They all said sorry about backing out and make sure I don’t go alone, don’t want anything to happen to you. Alone this time of year could be dangerous, so can driving a car. I said to heck with all of them and I went myself.
At the river’s edge the fog or mist hung as the water slipped by underneath. It was an amazing optical illusion, until I got in it. Then it was me moving, the shoreline moving in and out of the vapors it made me feel even more alone.
After About a quarter mile a barred owl downriver was asking who cooks for you and in my best owl call imitation I answered back that it was me. The bird thought my wiseacre remark not to funny and went silent. It was gonna be one of those days.
After a countless number of bends and each one I thought would hold some ducks or geese, finally four mallards flare up and I drop a fat feathered drake triple curl that may very well end up being my Christmas goose.
One duck would have been plenty, would have made the day, but I had the entire day ahead of me. I picked the bird out of the river, reloaded and kept paddling.
Each sand bar I passed had some kind of critter tracks, the most visible were the otters and the mink. At the best looking otter tracks bar there was a massive fresh water clam shell pile that I just had to go look out so I beached. I thought of those otters playing, eating, chasing, and the sun started to come back out in my head.
When I bent to grab a handful of the empty clams I heard the kahonking of what I thought then a lone goose, honk, honk, honk. The solo goose soared right around the bend and into perfect range.
I pulled up and let it fly right past me. I thought the only thing lonelier than me, was that bird. Boy was I wrong. In seconds the sky was full of geese bringing up the rear.
That was it, all I needed and I held on the lead goose’s nose, touched off the shot, when it tumbled, I took another one almost along side of me. The flock kept sailing down the river and I guessed there must have been forty or fifty birds.
I picked a pocket full of clam shells, I packed everything good and snug for the return upriver and then I retrieved my two Christmas geese. It felt good to have that kinda company in my kayak. The trout whisperer