I heard Tim yell as the goose took another nip at his ear, then he wrung its neck and flung the thrashing carcass away from him. He fell back into the snow, gasping.

Staring out at the lake, I was surprised to see that our struggles had not disturbed the rest of the flock. They had merely drifted a little farther out from shore.

“Quick,” I told Tim. “Let’s get these birds up to the cabin.”

Mine was heavy—over ten pounds—and Tim’s was even bigger. We were panting as we reached the shed and threw the geese inside.

“What else can we use for bait?” I asked, peering around the shed.

“We’ve got some beechnuts left,” Tim said. He was right. I had been saving a double handful for trail rations when we began to walk out. But the fat geese were worth more to us.

“Get them.” I hurried back down to the trench and with the spade strengthened its sides where our struggles had knocked them down.

We baited the trap again with the handful of beechnuts. After waiting in the cold for half an hour, our efforts were rewarded by a large goose. Since the bird had come alone, we both jumped out and soon subdued it.

A third attempt to lure the birds ashore failed when darkness came on. I picked up as many of the beechnuts as I could find. “We can try again in the morning,” I said.

We hung the three geese alongside what remained of the deer carcass. They had already begun to freeze, so there was no chance of their spoiling. Already, visions of thick, greasy soup were dancing in my mind.

Inside, I cleaned the blood off Tim’s neck and ear. He had been nicked rather handsomely by the first goose.

“That’s a wound of honor,” I told him. “You’ll be able to wear it proudly.”

“You’re crazy in the head,” he said, but I could see that he was pleased.

We went to bed early. After I had blown out the lamp, I told him a story for the first time in several nights. It was the first part of The Wizard of Oz. Then we spent some time wondering out loud where Oz was and what would happen to Dorothy and if she ever got home safely again.

The geese were gone in the morning. It was fortunate that we had acted without hesitation. But that is always true in the woods. Never put anything off until tomorrow, for you may be sure that tomorrow will dawn rainy or that the geese will be gone or that the wind will be blowing too hard to fish. If a thing must be done, do it as soon as you think of it; then there will be no regrets.

Tim and I spent part of the morning scraping the piece of deer hide that had come from the rear haunch.

“What are we going to do with this?” he asked.