I’ve written a North Dakota-y ghost story for the past few Halloweens – here’s one and here’s another and here’s the one from last year – and in the spirit (woooooooooo) of keeping that going, here’s yet another…but this one is about witches. I hope you enjoy it; Happy early Halloween!

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The phone rang just as Laurel was starting to guess that Gary had gotten stuck again.

“Hello, where you at,” she said into the receiver.

“I’m not stuck,” Gary told her.  “We got a bit of a pickle.”

Laurel listened to the end without comment, probably because her lips were puckered nearly to her nose.

“Well, you’d better bring him here,” she said after he was done.

“That’s what I figured,” Gary said. “But I also figured I’d better give you a fair warning so you weren’t surprised.”

“I’m never surprised by anything that fool has ever done,” she said.  “But this sure does take the cake.”

Laurel walked out onto the front porch. The autumn breeze was as crisp as cutting into a crabapple. Beyond the truck, fields of barley rolled towards the sun, a golden carpet under a golden sky. High above a field, a V of ducks crossed the sky, their dark silhouettes sharp against the fading blue.

Ten minutes later, a truck pulled into the yard.  Two camo-clad men and one overweight goose got out.

“I don’t want a goose in my house,” she said.  “I just washed the floors.”

“It’s not technically a goose,” Eugene said, helpfully.

“It is technically a goose,” Laurel said.

The goose waddled over to the stack of faded hunting chairs in the corner, and honked.

Gary pulled out Marv’s favorite – a blue one he’d gotten from saving Budweiser box tops in, oh, 1992 or so – and set it down.  The goose hopped onto the seat.  Gary set out three more chairs, and he and Eugene also sat down.  Laurel did not.

She stared the goose square in the bill.

“I was there 60-odd years ago when my mama warned you to stay away from that dugout,” Laurel said.  “You were there 35 years ago when I warned your sons about the same thing.  And I know for certain that Marlene makes sure your grandkids know to keep well clear of that whole field.  So I don’t know what on God’s green earth compelled you to go in there today.”

The goose nibbled at its wing and didn’t respond.

“We’d been skunked all week on ducks,” Eugene offered.  “Every place we went they’d been hunted so much that they were squirrely.  But the ones at the dugout had been there morning and night without a care in the world.”

“That’s because even the birds know no man can go near it,” Laurel said, still facing the goose.

“We had a plan,” Gary told his wife, although once she looked at him out of the corner of her eye he figured Eugene could tell the rest.

“Yeah, we had a plan,” Eugene said.  “I was going to go around to the north and scare them up and send them to Gary and Marv on the other side.  And it worked just like that.  They shot a whole whack of ‘em.”

“Let me guess, and one fell in the water,” Laurel said.

“No, on the edge of the water,” Eugene said.  “We could see its beak sticking out through the cattails.  Marv didn’t want to leave it behind.  Game warden and respect for nature and all that.”

“Oh, yes, lots of respect,” Laurel snorted.  “So, what, did he fall in?”

“Yep,” Eugene said, too quickly.

Laurel turned to her husband.

“He did fall in,” Gary said in the same tone he used earlier that summer when he was trying to explain why he bought a new four-wheeler when he was supposed to be getting gas.  “He just didn’t fall in right away.  He was real careful getting the duck, crawling on his belly and everything.  He took two sticks and crossed ’em together and eased the mallard out of there by the neck.  It was perfect.  He was so happy.  So happy that when he got his hand on that duck he stood up and did a little dance.”

Gary stood up himself out of his camping chair and pantomimed holding a duck in one hand, moving his hips and other hand like he was doing the hula.  Eugene grinned at the quality of the reenactment.  Laurel pursed her lips.  Gary sat back down.

“And then he tripped on his boot lace and fell in,” Gary said.  “And when he came up for air, he was a goose.”

“If you can’t swim, you’ll fly,” Laurel said, quoting her mother all those years ago.

“Marv knows how to swim,” Eugene said, which…well, in hindsight, was something he probably could have kept to himself.

The crickets stopped singing.  Darkness came rolling over the fields in a great wave, swallowing the distant coulees and shelterbelts as it raced toward the farmyard. The wind reached them first, whirling around them in a tightening wall of dust and leaves.

Laurel’s eyes glowed green.

“My mother enchanted that dugout after Tom Wilson drowned trying to save Tommy Junior.  Tommy would have died, too, you remember, but she got there in time to save him.”

Even Eugene knew better than to point out that even with the saving, Tommy “Honky” Junior wasn’t the same after that day, although he did make a good pile of money by winning that national goose calling contest in high school.

Laurel took a deep breath.  The wind calmed, and the sky brightened back to a glorious pumpkin orange.

“That dugout’s dangerous,” Laurel continued, back to.  “We can’t have kids thinking it’s okay to go over there because they see you three yokels crawling around on your bellies and dancing on the banks.”

“You’re right, dear,” Gary said.  “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Eugene said, sorry.  “And Marv is sorry, too.  Aren’t you, Marv.”

The goose blinked.

“So,” Gary said.

“So,” Laurel said.

“So,” Gary said.  “I figured, maybe you could turn him back?”

Laurel sniffed.

“Maybe Marlene would rather he stay a goose,” she said.  “She’s always complaining how messy he is around the house.  You boys could build him a little heated nest in his garage and bring him your leftover cabbage and corn.  Plus, she was just saying that she wanted to go on a cruise but he didn’t want to be cooped up on the ship.  Now he could fly alongside and sleep on the balcony.”

“Well, I think he’d rather be a person,” Eugene said because he was pretty sure that was the case even though that garage thing sounded pretty good.

“I’ll leave it up to Marlene,” Laurel said.  “I’ll call her and let her decide.”

Laurel turned and went back into the house.  Gary went into the garage and got three beers.  He handed one to Eugene, put one in the cup holder of his own chair, and then opened the third and set it in the cup holder on Marv’s camping chair, although there wasn’t much point because the goose had flown over to the garden and was rooting around in the carrots.

After some time, Laurel returned.

“Okay, she wants you human,” Laurel said to the goose.  “You’ll be back to your normal idiot self in a couple of hours.  Stay away from the dugout from now on or you’ll stay a goose for good.”

“Thank you, dear,” Gary said, pulling himself out of his chair and kissing her on the cheek.  She waved him off.

“Oh, and Marv,” she called across the yard.  The goose looked up.  “Eat anything else out of that garden and you’ll be my new goosedown pillow.”

Marv dropped the carrot, and honked.

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This week on North Dakota Today we talked about a beautifully foggy October morning to talk about how the community of Mandan is bringing warmth in dark times, and an awesome way to celebrate fall on Saturday in Hoople. (Valley News Live)

Pasta Fest doubled its donations in its quest to fund the community pool. (Foster County News)

Napoleon’s Brian Schneider is North Dakota’s 2027 Teacher of the Year. (NDSU)

Simle Middle School has created an ongoing behavioral health program that was initially kicked off with a $150,000 grant. (KFYR TV)

Welcome back, North Dakota’s honor flight participants! (Bismarck Tribune)

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