IT WAS going to be a simple affair: drive down to the pan, make ourselves comfortable in the sloot and shoot the geese as they fly in for the evening. The moon was right; the amount of water attracted huge flocks of birds from all over and the pan was teeming with spurwing and Egyptian geese. I even added some extra green camouflage blotches to my floppy hat, as a white smudge from my last painting job had been bothering me for some time. It would be nice to add a big spurwing pinion to the bunch of feathers already in the band. All a dead cert. Oh, really…?
We were early and decided to ambush a few guineafowl to kill time before sunset. Conditions for these, too, were near perfect.
IT dropped my mate at the top, just below the railway line, with careful instructions to follow the waterway down to where I would be
