A thousand snow geese, maybe more, hang above me stacked on top of one another from 80 yards on up to, seemingly, the stratosphere. They’re still too far to shoot, but I tighten my grip on the shotgun and widen my eyes to take in the spectacle on this snow geese hunting trip. My ears, too, get a sensory overload. A flock of snows makes a lot of noise, and their excited calling easily drowns out the electronic caller’s four speakers staked out in our spread. Every bird seems to have its own distinct call, and the chorus of squeaks, cackles, clucks, and whines grows in volume and intensity—as if every goose is pleading with the one next to it: Let’s get down there and eat—NOW!