While we are on the subject of tall tales, I would like to repeat a few of Dad’s gems. I want you to remember, now, these are my Dad’s stories, not mine. I only repeat them the way that I have heard them, hundreds of times. This is the way that I heard him tell his goose hunting story.
One time when he and Bert Streeter were kids they were Goose hunting on the east side of Little Cedar Lake, when they ran out of shot for the muzzle loading shot gun that the were using. They did, however, have plenty of powder, in fact they had the gun all loaded with powder when they discovered that they were out of shot. About the time that they were ready to give up and go home, a flock of geese came over. They hated to pass up a good shot so they put the steel ramrod into the barrel and shot anyway.
Just at the time that they shot, the Mailman was going along the opposite side of the lake, with his horse and buggy. Shortly after they had fired the gun they heard the Mailman yell and they saw his horse take off running. The ramrod had come down through the top of the buggy, passed between the old man’s legs, through the floor of the buggy and stood upright in the road bed.
Dad never did tell me the final outcome of the experience, but it was the only goose hunting story that I remember him telling, so I am inclined to believe that he and Bert didn’t hunt together much, after that.