The sun was just rising in a clear January sky when Mike Checkett, Sammie Faulk and I loaded up the four-wheeler and drove across the muddy rice field to Mike's pit blind. Elvis, Mike's yellow Labrador, ran along beside us, obviously eager to begin the hunt.

Mike Checkett and his Lab, Elvis, examine the first white-fronted goose of the day on a hunt near Stuttgart that was filled with great shooting. Photo by Keith Sutton.

Just a couple of miles away, I could see the lights on the tall Riceland Rice dryer in Stuttgart, one of the most prominent landmarks in the east Arkansas Delta. I could not, however, see the well-camouflaged blind from which we would hunt, not even when we were right up on it.

You would hardly have known it was there until Mike pushed back the sliding top to reveal the interior. There was plenty of room for six or eight hunters, but for now, it would only be the four of us -- three hunters and one big dog.

While Mike and Elvis set out a few white-fronted goose decoys, Sammie and I got situated in the blind. Looking out, at eye level with the flooded field, we could see Mike's big decoy spread with an opening in front of the blind. With luck, the geese would hear Mike and Sammie calling, see the decoys and decide to splash down in the open spot between the dekes.

With the wind at our backs, the birds would fly directly toward us, cup their wings, and present perfect targets as they prepared to land. We'd slide the roof of the blind back, stand, shoot and, we hoped, kill some geese.

That's how it happened. When shooting hours began, Mike and Sammie, both expert callers, started talking to distant flocks of white-fronted geese. The birds' voices were melodic, a high-pitched tootling-kah-lah-a-luk in chorus. My hunting companions mimicked their calls perfectly. Within minutes, a flock of specklebellies turned and headed our way.

The two goose talkers cut loose with loud, frantic calling. The geese answered. More calling. Another response. The time was upon us.

We had agreed earlier that Mike would call the shots. I tensed as I waited for the word. The white-fronts were headed straight for us, and unless something was to frighten them, they would pitch right into the decoy spread.

The lead birds cupped their wings, and then others behind them. Orange legs and feet stretched before them.

"Now!" Mike shouted.

Three shots fired -- three geese fell. On Mike's signal, Elvis bolted and went splashing through the shallow water to retrieve the birds. The first he had marked well, and despite the large size of the goose, the Lab had no trouble picking it up and returning it to Mike. The boss gave the dog a hand signal and off he went again to pick up another white-fronted goose, and then another.

We admired our kill. "Those are some of the best-eating waterfowl on the planet," Sammie said. Mike agreed. My mouth already was watering in anticipation of the feast the birds would provide.