A cold late November Day - most of the mallards and nearly all the geese had taken the southern freight. Still there were enough birds about to give cause to a final hunt on a local marsh. Sure enough a sizeable flock of mallards had determined to keep a pool of water open with their insistent paddling. There were at least 200 birds but they were wise to the hunter's ways and chosen a spot most inaccesible by foot and to get a boat to the marsh edge let alone busting ice for at least 300 yards was more challenge than I could choose to face. So my dog and I hunkered in the tall snow festooned reeds on the near side of the frozen shore hoping that at least a few birds would slip within range before joining their pals in the open pool. The 20 mph wind was from the north with both bark and bite and before long both the dog and I were thinking of warmer activities. Then the clarion call of a lone goose caught our attention, he was flying from the southwest towards the open water but very high - 50 yards at least - not a hope of a shot at this range. He passed over the mallard flock at 30 yards up then flew on towards the east until out of sight and my hearing of his cry. Thirty minutes passed - long minutes with only the occassional encouraging little flight coming within 100 yards of us. Still we sat immobile, hidden and freezing. Then to our ears came the cry of that same lone goose returning from his fruitless search for his brethern, again he passed over the open water but instead of turning to the south he continued to the west which would bring him right over us. He was 60 yards up and in full flight. I was carrying my ASEL that day and at the time it was choked .042 and .044 - never did pattern with a hoot with anything bigger than #3s and it was stoked with those in both barrels - tungsten matrix. On he came and when near ( if that word is at all appropiate ) but not quite overhead I swung the barrels through his form and with lots of what I perceived would be appropriate lead, pulled the front trigger. Hard hit his forward flight was stalled and near straight down he plummeted and me with time to center him with the second shot. Right through the ice he crashed only 20' from where we had awaited. Stone dead from the shot and the crash through the 1/2" of ice. My intrepid companion, my trusted dog ran across the ice surface grabbed that goose from the water hole and carried it back to me. The head neck and chest of the goose carried numerous shot. How far? I don't know but I hunt geese a lot and shoot quite a number so have some experience on which to base my estimation of range and he was at least 65 yards away when hit. Now some may say that the cold had effected my perceptions maybe so but I will always recall that shot as one taken with the opportunity a gift and a little earned.