You're caught in a sound machine with mega-stereo. A cackling, honking, garbled cacophony rattles your eardrums, and you imagine that each of a thousand of pairs of eyes is trying to pick you out of that insignificant little pile of soybean stubble that constitutes your "blind."

Like something you'd see in a diagram of a World War II German armored unit executing a Blitzkrieg-style pincer movement, the outriders of the flock have already swung around, so now the noise is coming from behind and from the sides, as well as from out past your boots' toes. Looking out over the birds' "V" formation, you realize, as your targets get steadily closer, that their pattern resembles the rear sight on a rifle.

"Take them!" someone yells.

You scramble upright, flipping the safety on the 12 gauge into the "off' position. A big white bird appears over the front bead; you grab the trigger, and a 3-inch Magnum dose of No. 2 shot goes flying off to some spot occupied by no part of the goose that you just missed. How could anyone miss something that big, that close -- and that slow?

Never mind: Get your head down on the stock and try again. The birds are starting to peel away, but plenty of opportunities remain. Shoot; work the pump; find another target; shoot again. You do this until six fresh empty hulls litter the mud and stubble beside you.

Happily, the empties aren't all that you now see lying on the dark Delta soil; geese are on the ground as well.

Whoa! Did I say six empties? Yes! Unless the rules get changed, you can legally remove the plug from your shotgun during special "light goose management" season that ran all the way into early March last time around.