Late-Season Honker Hunt: Hunting close to city limits
There’s something both surreal and exhilarating about hunting honkers just outside the glow of city lights. As the late season stretches on, the fields surrounding the outskirts of town take on a quiet beauty—bare stubble dusted with snow, a subtle hush in the predawn air, and the faint silhouette of buildings not too far away. This setting might seem unlikely for a world-class goose hunt, but here we are, sharing these special moments once again with a group of clients who’ve been with us for seven memorable years.
These returning hunters aren’t just clients anymore; they’ve become trusted friends, sharing countless hours in blinds and around evening firepits with us. We’ve seen them arrive wide-eyed and eager in those first seasons, learning the lay of the land, adjusting to Saskatchewan’s weather, and soaking up the rhythm of the migration. Now, their calls ring out confidently over the quiet fields, their timing and instincts honed through seasons of experience. After all these years, we operate more like a well-practiced team than a guide and guests.
Late season honkers can be incredibly challenging—wary, seasoned birds that have seen it all. They’re sharper now, keenly aware of what’s safe and what’s not. Setting the stage requires careful scouting and flawless concealment. We arrive before dawn, our breath hanging in the cold air, and tuck layout blinds into thin stubble and patchy snow. Decoys are arranged methodically, not too tight, not too scattered, reflecting the natural feeding patterns of larger, late-season flocks. The slight hum of traffic and the faint glow from distant streetlights remind us how close we are to the city, yet the sense of solitude and immersion in nature is unmistakable.
As first light begins to soften the horizon, we pick out distant silhouettes: small groups of Canada geese lifting off roost areas and drifting our way. This is the moment that keeps bringing our longtime friends back, season after season—the thrill of hopeful anticipation, the careful whispering of last-second adjustments, and the gentle hum of calls coaxing the big birds closer. After a few long minutes, the geese swing downwind, circle once, and commit, gliding in low with wings cupped. The hush breaks with a sudden crack of excitement and a flurry of wings. When the shooting is done, we celebrate quietly, grateful for the honkers now resting in the decoys and for the pure rush that accompanies a well-executed finish.
Over breakfast later, we reflect on how far we’ve all come together. Seven years is a long time—enough to turn guided hunts into annual traditions, to watch kids grow into young adults, and to learn something new each season. The rapport we’ve built allows for easy laughter, shared stories of past hunts, and talk of what next year might bring. In many ways, these late-season hunts outside the city capture the essence of what waterfowl hunting is all about: forging bonds, treasuring the natural world, and savoring the subtle magic of a moment when wild geese take wing against a backdrop of distant rooftops and open prairie skies.
As we wrap up this late-season outing, we know that the memories made here—just beyond the city limits, in this unlikely yet fertile hunting ground—will keep our longtime friends coming back. And we’ll be waiting, excited to do it all again next year, grateful for the trust, the friendship, and the timeless thrill of pursuing honkers in the quiet shadows of the city’s edge.