It was a chance meeting — or was it providential? Allen Piper and I were in Saskatchewan, Canada hunting ducks and geese with an outfitter from Texas. On our way to the lodge we began to stop and talk to local farmers about hunting. We stopped at a small refinery and I walked up to the construction office. The first person I met was a young man with a goose call in his hand. We really hit it off and he said, “Don’t pay all that money to an outfitter again. Come hunt with me.” That’s how I met Joshua Allen.
During the next two years I stayed in contact with Joshua. He is a very serious hunter and his invite to return to Canada and hunt with him was genuine.
In early September, businessman Bill Jones and I were there, ready for some great goose and duck hunting. Driving across Alberta and into Saskatchewan was remarkable. If you love agriculture, it was miles of gentle, rolling hills with thousands and thousands of acres of wheat, barley, oat, peas and canola, dotted with thousands of small potholes. It is truly the duck factory of North America.
To say that Joshua’s family is a hunting group is an understatement. They hunt and trap almost any animal. Joshua’s wife, Leah, recently shot a black wolf out of her bedroom window. We saw the huge wolf rug. They also shoot coyotes out of the window during the winter when the pelts are thick with hair. Every coyote brings about 100 dollars. The weather is always below freezing during the winter so they just hang the coyotes in the barn and they freeze solid. Last winter they took a load of 44 coyotes to Lloydminster to sell. Their trailer was full of frozen coyotes and they tied several on top of the family Suburban.
A not-very-knowledgeable convenient store worker asked, “Are those dogs, and are they sleeping?”
Josh answered, “Yes. And forever.”
They parked the vehicle in the church parking lot to attend morning service, so the frozen coyotes went to church. Leah, who is quite an outdoor lady, said, “That was just too much redneck, even for me.”
Our first hunt was a great success. After setting out all the Canada goose decoys and some mallard duck deeks, we crawled into our lay down blinds, perfectly hidden in the harvested oat field. Geese loved our spread and came in with wings cupped. The barrels of our 12 gauge shotguns stayed hot. Ducks were also falling as our heavy steel loads found the target.
Then we got a bonus. A big group of sandhill cranes were deceived by our goose decoys and floated right into our faces. Josh called the shot and I pulled a few inches in front of the lead crane’s beak. I touched the trigger and the crane didn’t fall. Thinking that he was moving faster I had shot in front of the bird. Bill got his gun hung up on the blind and didn’t get a shot. I dropped another crane with my second shot. Josh got two. It was the first time Josh had ever shot cranes on opening day.
Josh left us to go scout a field behind some hay bales, and said, “We need 12 birds to finish our goose limit. Get’em. I’ll be back.”
Josh watched us through binoculars. He saw us knock down six birds out of a group of seven. The three of us now had our limit. Eighteen geese and about 10 ducks were spread out on the ground for pictures.
The next morning Joshua’s 13 year old son, Hunter, joined us. He is aptly named. He’s already a great shot and very knowledgeable.
Two big Canada geese landed right in the decoys early. “Bill, stand up and shoot those two geese,” whispered Joshua.
Bill had been tucked way down in his blind and didn’t see them land. “I don’t see any geese,” he said.
The two birds were identical to our full body decoys. But when he stood the two “decoys” went airborne and died immediately.
Later, a huge group of Canada geese began to circle us and dropped in with their landing gear down. I expected Josh to call the shot any moment, but suddenly, the birds landed on the edge of the decoys.
“I’m going to count to three and then let’s all stand and start shooting,” whispered Josh.
On three, Bill, Josh, Hunter and I stood and opened fire. Geese began to fall like hailstones. It doesn’t take long to reach your 32 bird limit (8 each hunter) with that kind of shooting. By 9:00 a.m. we had our limit.
The last day we decided to go hunting for ruffed grouse. I shot sharp-tail grouse in Montana years ago but I had never hunted ruffed grouse. The locals call them “ruffies.” I was excited.
Josh took us across the beautiful North Saskatchewan River in his 20 foot jon boat. The plan was to drop us off on Cranberry Island. Josh would take the boat to the end of the island and build a fire so we could locate him by the smoke.
I had high expectations of shooting a full limit of ruffies. Bill and I were even concocting a plan to bring some of the white meat fillets home in our luggage. We pushed into the island which was a jungle. By mistake, Josh had dropped us on Pine Island. Briers, vines, brush and other vegetation tore at our clothing, hands and faces. No sign of any ruffies. As we fought our way through the brier jungle I knew why they called them ruffed grouse. Because hunting them was rough. Soon my expectations of shooting a limit dropped to hoping to shoot one. Then I just hoped to see one.
About halfway down the island I said, “This is terrible. I’m going west to the river bank. Pick me up in the boat on your trip home.” So there I sat on the river bank in the Canadian wilderness without food, matches or a pocket knife.
The island was infested with bear and moose. Bill stepped over a big pile of fresh bear scat. Big bear tracks were everywhere. But I had my shotgun. I wouldn’t be eaten without a fight. Eventually, I heard the boat coming. Bill and Hunter never saw a grouse and the tangles even got worse. I think I will stick to waterfowl on my next trip to Canada.
