The dry weather has made the otter population gather in the few places where there is still water and fish to be found and the lake behind my home is swarming with them. The shad, roaches as we call them, are bedding in the big lake and the otters are having a field day. I can get right up close to them. They have gotten to where they pay me little attention and it does my heart good to see them. They are the most playful creatures in nature and I would like to tame one. If I could find a den with little ones, I bet I could.
Fox, the one-eyed Wonder Lab, sits by my side and watches the otters, also, and I am sure he is thinking about trying to catch one. If he did he would soon turn him loose because an otter can be fierce and their teeth are razor sharp.
As I was sitting on our screen porch, writing and watching an otter gather breakfast, a flock of Canada geese landed on the lake. They didn’t know it but they landed right in front of the log that I have shot many a cooter off of over the years. The log is exactly 225 yards away and at that distance with my 22-250 varmint special, I can literally shoot the head off a turtle. I quickly laid my pen down and prepared to set up my rifle and intend to lay in wait for 2 or 3 of the geese to line up and then I will touch it off. There is no doubt at least one and I hope two, geese will go to the happy feeding grounds in the sky. Oh, what a life. “Let me get my gun and set up before they move out of range,” I thought.
Just then, a Golden Eagle landed in the top of a big cypress and the geese spotted him and started raising sand. They didn’t fly, though, for they know what a mighty hunter an eagle can be. The eagle doesn’t know it but he has just become a pawn in the game of life. The geese won’t move out of range now even as I walk out and set up my sniper rifle because they are more afraid of the eagle than of me and the eagle certainly has nothing to fear. He has been through here each spring for many years and heard many a rifle shot but never come to grief. I believe he knows he is safe here and if I have anything to say about it, he is.
I remembered just that morning my wife said she was craving a smoked goose, and if my baby doll wants smoked goose, Bless God, she’ll get one and the reward for me would be great.
After watching through my 18-power Redfield for about ten minutes, three of them finally got their heads lined up and I touched old Betsy off. Then I had to get my last child at home, Schuyler, pried away from his dadblamed computer and force him to pole across the lake and do the double retrieve. It’ll be goose for supper one night this week and glory thereafter.
For any that would like a culinary delight and have a goose available; pick him, singe him, cut the wings off at the breast, draw the entrails, place the bird, no matter how large or old the bird may be, into a brine of one cup of salt to one gallon of water and leave it in the brine (in the fridge) for two days. Place the bird onto a wet smoker and use green maple wood for smoke, and any kind of poultry rub you like. Leave the bird for 5 hours on high heat until the leg joint reaches 180 degrees, remove and enjoy with pepper jelly, greens, wild rice, baked sweet potato, rolls, and a nice Chianti.
I would like to invite Ms. Pelosi to supper. I’d blindfold her and tell her ‘just eat what I put on your plate, Ma’am. You will find out what’s in it after you eat it.’ Then I would whisper in her ear, “Sort of reminds one of the health care bill, don’t it?”