Goose and duck hunting, Assendelft
Early morning geese hunting expedition beneath the sputtering murmur of overhead aeroplanes landing at Schiphol.
I’m accompanying Michiel, he’s the president of the Wildlife management association who hunts on weekends or sometimes even before going to work. We arrive to the hunting location (a farmer’s paddock in Assendelft) where we meet with 3 other hunters. Michiel delegates the hunting positions and we clamber our way through the wet grasses and bogs of mud. Camoflaging ourselves as dead tree stumps. Keeping very low and still with chin resting on the dew of the grass. We whisper. Michiel gives a duck call. Some minutes go by. A small gaggle of geese fly overhead. Then comes the pang of gunshot of hail bullet. A goose falling out of life, out of sky. I ran to collect it. It’s an Egyptian goose that is in its last fit of spasms. I twist its neck to ensure a sooner end. Cows stare from afar. The dawn breaks. Glorious sun. We continue to watch the flight patterns of geese. A refrain of V shaped afterimages against the bluing sky. The hunt ends. I carry two of the geese by their necks. 4 or 5 kilos of feather, and flesh. We lay the geese in a row. A the sacrifical tableau morte. 4 Greylag geese (Grauwe ganzen / Anser anser) and 4 Egyptian geese (Nijlganzen / Alopochen aegyptiaca). We take our hats off and offer a moment of silence for the sky harvest. The regurgitated bassline of an aeroplane drones above.
Back into town we have a warming breakfast of pumpkin soup and beer at the Ijkantine. By noon I cycle back home with one greylag and one egyptian goose on the back of the bicycle. Preparing for dissection on the kitchen floor. Removing the meat: the breast, the legs, the liver. When I cut open the Greylag, the smell of urate permeates the air. The Egyptian goose liver is younger, tastier. Wondering how to extract the blood, to complete the sacrifice and make, for the first time goose blood boudin noir. Perhaps better to try that on a domesticated goose.