On the other side was one of the typical highstands. Very slowly I got to it, inched up its ladder. Once high enough to rest my elbows and left hand on the platform in front of the door I had a clear shot at one of the does, still about a hundred yards away. She died from a 50 grain Ballistic Tip through her neck, all that had been visible while bedded in the grass. Meat loss was minimal.

Another day we ambushed ducks on a small pond in a small stand of Aspen. Helmut positioned himself on the edge of the woods while I carefully approached the pond from the other side. When the ducks flushed I got a double with his Winchester 101. He took the third one (no survivors) with his Krieghoff drilling.

With enough daylight remaining, we drove to another area within his lease and found hundreds of geese feeding, a good 300 steps away and across that creek mentioned above.

As long as you are very slow the geese tend to stay. I was able to exit his Nissan X-Trail and make it to a single tree twenty steps ahead. Oh, it is legal there to hunt birds with a rifle. Using that tree as a rest I aimed a good 2 geese high where three of them were sitting together. With Leupold 3.5-10x50 set at max power even the little nudge from the .222 knocked me off target for a moment. But I had heard a loud bullet smack (Kugelschlag). Yet all I saw was the air full of cackling geese. Even though it required crossing that creek I went to investigate. Sure enough, I found a goose, with (lucky) neck shot, perfect for the kitchen. Now that was a fun afternoon. It was too dark for pictures by then.

That Sunday morning I was lucky enough to bag two grey geese.

On another afternoon geese were in the area. The farmers have these small sheds here and there in the meadows, from the days when they milked their cows out there, and the weather was bad. We purposely parked ‘behind’ one when 4 geese landed what looked like nearby, behind the shed. On my way I was with the .222 again. Carefully rounding a corner with barrel going first, I found the geese alright, but more than 300 estimated yards off. We had no range finders. Besides, neither did we have his load clocked or verified at longer distances.

With no way to get closer I aimed even higher and squeezed. Three took flight. The one I shot at tried, wings flapping unsuccessfully. OK, that wounded goose could not hide anywhere, but they can run, fast. I traded the Mauser for his over/under and went after that goose. Turns out it was too wounded to run much. I could grab it after a short chase and finish it with the ‘cold’ weapon (pocketknife). The 50 grain Ballistic Tip, Helmut’s handload, had ripped away half of one breast. Surprised that the bullet would still expand so much on such a long shot I inspected the bird a little closer. It revealed that the Nosler had first hit the wing ‘elbow’. Still, amazing performance.

Near last light we returned to the spot where I had shot the first goose days earlier. They were back! I took another long shot, by now sort of knowing how much higher to aim. This time a goose on the ground flapped its wings – sweet. But wait, some were flying towards us. I quickly stashed the rifle and grabbed and loaded the over/under. Fast enough to take one bird out of the air. A 3-goose day! The one beyond the creek had been hit in the head, again ideal for the kitchen. By the time I had returned to his Nissan it was dark again.

The Elbe and the many ditches in the area are also home to these.

To me it is a special treat to get invited for a weekend hunt along the river Elbe. Wild boar are more often present than not. But most exciting are the ever-present geese, thousands of them. No, usually not within shotgun range. But they are flying somewhere, seemingly all day long. It is that wetland background, so obviously different from Arizona, that I enjoy. Several of us lurk along the river’s edge for the morning and evening flights. Most birds of course come over too high, or too far over the water, etc.

Stalked it with the scattergun, I did, while it was too busy munching on meadow grass. Then I honestly wanted to eat this fat rat, OK, nutria. But Helmut was not keen on it, and his wife would NEVER have allowed that to enter her kitchen.

And here is a beast taken with an Anschutz 22LR, at 2 inches, after being trapped. Note the fresh snow. This Marder (European Pine Marten) will no longer chew up stuff under my niece’s VW hood.

Back near my hometown one more doe died from the Mauser’s medicine. A group of four had bedded such that another shed allowed me to sneak within about 80 guestimated steps. Even though it is frowned upon in Germany, the doe offered a steady aim at its head. It collapsed in its bed, and the other three did not even get up. Only when the dead one began to thrash with its legs did they become nervous and soon thereafter left the scene.

Marder - or European Pine Martin

It should be obvious by now that I love to hunt with that Mauser 4000, no, more so with the low-recoiling .222 Remington. It seems ideal for those roe deer, and lately, geese. After I returned to Arizona, Helmut also employed his .222 on deer and a goose.