Fall slowly creeps upon us. Dove season, high school football, and teal season are imprinted in our brains as grandparents and hunters to mark the changing of the seasons. Archery deer season and snipe season are welcomed with annual enthusiasm. September 23 was the “official” date. I’m still getting tomatoes and they seem especially tasty right now. All seems in order for another harvest celebration across our nation.

There is a somewhat select group of people that mark the beginning of fall with a very special event in the Cheyenne Bottoms part of Kansas. We very seldom discuss it with each other, but it is a powerful, wonderful part of the transition to fall, and until it occurs —fall hasn’t arrived.

Brian and I were sitting/standing in the cattails at the Bottoms. Annie was in the elevated doghouse that keeps her dry and warm between retrieves. She is pretty cute and is eager to chase and retrieve those birds. It was quiet with hardly a breeze which is terrible for teal hunting. If your decoys aren’t moving around and only sitting still — the birds recognize that as a danger zone and you might as well be wearing a rainbow blazer and blowing a saxophone. We have a Canadian buddy that specializes in that call... . A few wood ducks and shovelers were loafing across the sky looking for a place to rest for the day, and the herons and egrets were fussing and feeding on the shad that swim close to the surface. A Great Blue Heron had stabbed a good-sized carp and was gazing down his beak to plan the extraction prior to swallowing the fish. It was a time to swig some coffee and just relax. Life is good in the marsh.

Before I finish that story, I need to tell you a few things about the people in the marsh at that time of day doing what we do. A lot of us know each other. We know the taxidermist, the good shooters, the tough guys that walk long distances in the muck to get their birds, and the guys that know their ducks and don’t inadvertently shoot wood ducks or ruddy ducks as a mistaken teal. We meet and greet the good hunters from out of state and know the good ones and the bad ones. Game wardens have a network of good hunters that keep them informed about crimes against our birds.  They can’t be everywhere, and most of the good hunters keep an eye out for irregularities. Our game wardens are great guys that encourage education and success in addition to law enforcement. They always say “thanks for info” and report back on the outcome of our observations. Most of us don’t hunt together, spend much time together except on the roads or in the boats at the Bottoms, and don’t know where each other live. We know vehicles and boats and faces and attitudes. We enjoy seeing each other and always visit honestly and cheerfully with success or interesting news. There is an albino swallow somewhere in our marsh that was spotted by one of our guys. We all know about it now and are eagerly watching to get a peek at his treasure. Thanks for sharing that info with us! We know where each guy or group generally hunt and respect that territory. In the tall cattails right now, it is easy to get closer to another group because we have to travel in narrow trails through the cattails and can’t see someone set up a short distance away. We don’t mind moving if we make a mistake. These are our guys. I admire them a LOT!

Now back to the story. There wasn’t much of a breeze, it was after 8:30 and breakfast was starting to do laps in my mind. All of a sudden, we heard a white-front goose call sing a beautiful song. We knew who was blowing it, and were curious about his reason for blowing that beast (they aren’t easy to blow) when we were chasing ducks. Annie looked around (always check to see what your dog is seeing if you don’t see anything — Ha!) and Brian and I started checking out the sky. That particular hunter is a talented fellow on several fronts—and we knew he had a reason to blow a call at birds we haven’t had in the marsh yet, and the season isn’t open to hunt them. As I gazed up in the sky, I saw eight white-fronted geese in a tight group sailing most elegantly to the south. Grant saw them first and as usual had all his gear including the goose call. The geese casually cackled back at him and went on their way leaving our jaws dropped in the marsh. The arrival of white-fronts means fall is here, and geese will be following in short order. When we went out of the marsh and loaded the boat to go home, we visited with some other groups. We all individually and collectively celebrated the arrival of those geese, and that was the topic of conversation all across our marsh and we all saw them. I’ll always remember hearing a goose call when I thought there were no geese around. Thanks a bunch for alerting us to their arrival — it makes our lives and hunting community a lot better.  

You may never be in the marsh when the first white-fronts arrive. If you don’t live with these birds it might not be significant to you. In our collective group—it is a huge event and gives us hope and good cheer to know that everything is in order. The Bottoms nourish all of us.

Doc

Doctor Dan Witt is a retired physician and nature enthusiast.