Pursuing the Elusive White Goose

You could feel the excitement in the weathercaster’s voice as she described the intense spring thunderstorm currently building to the south.  Surging northward at breakneck speed, the storm was scheduled to sweep into the northern half of Iowa by late afternoon, March 14.  It was just the kind of dramatic change in weather that longtime friend and snow goose hunting enthusiast, Curt Stille, had been waiting for. 

It came as no surprise when the phone rang.  It only took seconds to realize that Curt was even more excited than the weather girl.

“Lowell, this storm is a big one and I’m pretty sure there’ll be some birds [snow geese] riding the front edge of the front.  I think we should be out there.”

I’ve shared goose blinds with Stille, off and on, for more than a quarter century now.  And if there’s one thing I’ve learned during that time, it’s that his migration predictions are a lot more than wishful thinking.  If Curt thinks that migrating geese will be moving up the flyway, you can bank on it.  We did indeed need to be out there.

The Hunt Begins: The early, predawn weather conditions of March 14 were a goose hunter’s dream come true — a perfect combination of mild temperatures, steady southeast breeze, and crystal-clear skies.  Bathed in the light of a white-hot full moon, the landscape was illuminated to the point that you could have almost read a book by it.  There was little indication that a major front was on its way. 

As we stood chatting at the edge of the decoys, Stille suddenly froze and gazed skyward.  “Look at that,” he exclaimed.  Looking up, I spotted the night’s biggest wonder — a flock of eleven beautiful snow geese hovering just a few yards above our heads.  The birds had arrived without a sound.  Best of all, they had mistaken our spread of 300 plus white windsocks for a live flock of their kissin’ cousins.  A sign of good things to come, our anticipation began to escalate.

At the approach of daybreak, the countryside began to stir.  Attracted to the waving windsocks, a small flock of green-winged teal and a squadron of elegantly streamlined pintails conducted a high-speed reconnaissance of the decoys.  But although near continual lines of white-fronted and Canada geese passed in the distance, the species we sought had yet to be seen.  The show continued until, several minutes later, the first flock of snow geese appeared in the south.  Although hundreds of yards distant, we could tell that the birds were already locked onto our spread.  With geese on the way, Stille lost no time in switching on the electronic caller.  The recorded sound of feeding geese added some much-needed realism to our headless Tyvek socks.

Arriving over the decoys, the snows began a critical inspection of the scene below.  Although our individual decoys may have suffered a definite lack of realism, their overwhelming numbers combined with the lifelike recording of feeding geese really did make the spread seem more convincing.  Lying motionless in the decoys, Curt and I hoped our white parkas would make us appear as just two more white dots amid a fluttering ocean of white dots. 

Following a couple minutes of hanging motionless in the sky, the geese finally bought the ruse — hook, line, and sinker.   Simultaneously setting their wings, the flock began its descent.  But in this case, it was not the wary, back and forth, inch-by-inch, painstakingly slow loss of altitude normally displayed by decoying snow geese.  Instead, the birds extended their webbed feet and began falling from the sky like so many feathered meteors.  Another second or two and the parachuting birds were all over us.  Curt called the shot.  Shouldering the shotguns, we managed to collect five geese; with Curt scoring an impressive triple as the flock flared into the wind.

The snow goose is an amazing bird, annually traversing the continent in an epic, 6,000-mile round trip migration that leads from remote arctic nesting areas to the coastal wintering grounds of Louisiana, Texas, and Mexico and then back again.  Despite nearly year-round hunting pressure, snow goose populations have not only survived, but have actually prospered to a point of overabundance.  So much so, that their overgrazing has decimated vast portions of the species’ fragile tundra nesting grounds.  In an effort to reduce populations, the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service has implemented liberal spring hunting seasons with no daily bag limits.  Although the long-term seasons have failed to achieve their desired goal, they have provided hunters with countless hours of outdoor recreation. 

While in the process of successfully adapting to increased hunting pressure, the snow goose has arguably become the wariest of waterfowl.  Hunting them requires huge spreads of field or floating decoys which, even when combined with the recorded sounds of real geese, often fails to do the job.  Although most traveling flocks will pause for a look — “Inspect & Reject” — remains their credo, a fact which made our in-your-face encounter with that first flock a stellar event.

But the morning was just beginning.  Within minutes, a second undulating line of white geese appeared from the south.  Adjusting their course, the birds made a direct approach to our position.  Within a couple of minutes, we could hear their single syllable yelping above the sound of the electronic speakers.  Amazingly, the flock conducted a repeat performance of the first, dropping to the decoys with little hesitation.      

When a third flock approached the decoys, I traded shotgun for camera.  Curt ran the caller while I lay on my back clicking away.  As the birds hovered above, I could see the adults cranking their heads back and forth in an effort to determine what was real and what was not.  When the closest geese suddenly ‘cupped up and stood on their tails’ I went back to the shotgun.  In the second it took to make the exchange; the geese had already dropped to a scant handful of yards.  Rushing my shot, I missed – twice.  Curt fared better, cleanly downing another pair.

The flocks kept coming.  The geese continued to decoy with reckless abandon.  The action was so intense that it became what Curt would later describe as “pure chaos”.  The morning’s eighth flock provided a sight I won’t soon forget.  Arriving at the decoys, the geese stalled and began their assessment.  While still hovering overhead, the birds were joined by a second group of snow geese that suddenly appeared from who knows where.  The combined flock contained a good number of adult birds which, after taking a long look, smelled a rat and said adios.

When the departing birds were a couple of hundred yards distant, I was surprised when Stille suddenly cranked the electronic speakers to a blaring, rock concert volume.  When the ear-splitting sound reached the retreating flock, the geese made an instant U-turn and conducted a full throttle return to the decoys.  Arriving overhead, the birds – including the well-educated adults — piled straight in to what they had rejected just a couple of minutes before.  It was an amazing event.

“Wow – That was incredible,” I exclaimed.  “I can’t believe what just happened.  Getting retreating snow geese to change their minds?  You don’t see that every day.”

Curt agreed.  “It was amazing, but I can’t take credit for this one.  It’s a trick I learned from Gary Sturges,” Stille noted, referring to North Iowa farmer and former professional snow goose hunting guide, Gary Sturges.

“Gary is an incredible goose hunter and most of what I know about snow geese I learned from him. Snow geese can be frustrating, and nothing is more challenging.  But when it works there’s nothing in the world like it.  It’s a sight and sound that keeps you coming back for more.”