by Erwin Bosum from Chibougamau, Quebec
It was spring 2000, our Cree “Goose Break”. I was nine years old. Our people had to travel to the camp for eight hours. We were getting closer and closer when we saw geese above us flying toward the lake over the trees. As we were walking, all we could hear was “Pow! Pow! Pow!” Gun shots and the sound of geese in the distance. We were there!
The next day, I woke up early. The sky was bright orange, the sun about to come up. My Grand-Ma was making her famous porridge. After we ate we went out on the land. It was beautiful. The wind was coming from the south. That’s when the geese really start to fly.
As we were walking to the blind, we heard geese from a distance. And we could hear my grandpa yelling from the blind, “They’re landing!” So we ran.
As I was running, my foot went through the snow. I was stuck. I called out for my cousin Ernie. But he ignored me. He kept running to the blind. The geese were landing and there was nothing I could do. I was stuck in the snow. My Grand-Pa whispered at me from the blind to curl into a ball, to keep warm, and I did.
I waited and my foot was getting cold. Then, finally, all I could hear were gun shots. So, I got out my gun too. I had a 4/10 single shot. I put in a shell. As soon as my gun was loaded, three geese flew over me. I aimed at the one in the middle. I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger and Boom! Two of them were going down.
My grandfather yelled at the camp, “Erwin killed two geese in one shot!” Everyone came down and watched me as I grabbed the geese by their throats and dragged them to camp. That night we had a feast in honour of my first kill.
My grandfather had been there when my older brother killed his first goose. That means a lot to us. I am so glad he could be there for my first goose too. My grandfather has since died. I miss him a lot.