Volume XIX. 



RECREATION 



DECEMBER, 1903 

 G. 0. SHIELDS, (COQUINA) Editor and Manager 



Number 6. 



A GOOSE HUNT ON THE RIO GRANDE. 



S. B. GILLETT. 



Hunting geese is one thing, killing 

 them is another. I have killed geese 

 since I was a boy ; in the marshes, on 

 the lakes and on the rivers ; but to kill 

 them on the Rio Grande, in New 

 Mexico, is work. Here, you office 

 worker, if you would become a new 

 I man, rejuvenated, and would start that 

 torpid liver to active work, come with 

 me on a goose hunt, and if you do 

 your part your liver will be all 

 right. 



I had been cooped up in my office 

 2 or 3 years, Sundays and every 

 other day. Being told that geese were 

 numerous on the Rio Grande, I made 

 arrangements for a hunt. Not having 

 hunted on the Rio Grande, the Nile of 

 America, the river that is a mile wide 

 and an inch deep. I procured a guide. 

 He, like myself, had hunted always. 

 He knew the Rio Grande ; I didn't. 



He told me the way to kill geese on 

 the Rio Grande was to procure an en- 

 gine headlight, fasten it on the end of 

 a boat, and float down the river at 

 night. Accordingly I had him get the 

 headlight, a boat and a wagon, togeth- 

 er with such other equipments as he 

 thought necessary. We left Albu- 

 querque for up the river one clear, 

 cold afternoon in the winter of 1897. 

 After traveling about 10 miles we 

 reached the river above the Corrales 

 bridge. We took with us a boy, who 

 returned with the wagon after seeing 

 us safe into the water. 



Immediately across from us, on a 

 sand bar — and bars are awful — sat a 

 flock of geese. They knew they were 

 safe, so our dropping into the river, 

 unloading our traps and shipping them 



was of no concern to them; they sim- 

 ply greeting us with their familiar ho- 

 onk. Being ready to drop down the 

 river, we sent our wagon back to town, 

 but I have wished from that time 

 until now that we hadn't. We floated 

 down and across the river. The geese 

 never stirred. Immediately to the 

 West of them faded the setting sun. 

 A thicket had grown to perfection on 

 the same side. The dog, the guide, 

 lamp, lunches and several guns were 

 left with the boat while I made a 

 crawl on the geese. I used an 8-gauge 

 muzzle loader on them and killed, or 

 rather wounded, 3 geese. They made 

 a line for the river and all were far 

 apart. Then I made the "goose run," 

 and the geese made me run, to catch 

 them. The sand bar was covered with 

 mud ; I had on rubber boots. By the 

 time I had caught one of the geese the 

 other 2 were 100 yards apart and 300 

 away from me. I caught the second 

 goose, but the third one was so far 

 away that I only grabbed him as he 

 reached the water. Maybe you think 

 I didn't need my dog. 



Speaking of dogs, I have the best 

 on earth. You can hot reach geese 

 en the Rio Grande with a following 

 dog. You do well to get to them 

 alone, and you have to sneak to get 

 to them at all. It makes me tired 

 to hear one say "as crazy as a goose." 

 They are wary birds. You can't catch 

 them asleep. They are not crazy. 



I tied my geese around the neck 

 with a string, threw my gun across 

 my shoulder, strung them on the bar- 

 rel of my gun, and started for the 

 boat. Between me and the boat lay a 



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