Reporting from Easton, Md. — Trevor Shannahan lifts his custom-designed, hand-tuned, glittering blue instrument to his lips and plays the soundtrack to life on Maryland's Eastern Shore.
"HA-RONK!" he begins. "HA-RONK!"
Shannahan sways like a jazz trumpeter taking a solo. He crouches, bends at the waist, and turns to and fro, his hands fluttering as he blows a cacophony of honks, moans, purrs and growls. Close your eyes, and he sounds just like a flock of Canada geese.
"HA-RONK!" he begins. "HA-RONK!"
Shannahan sways like a jazz trumpeter taking a solo. He crouches, bends at the waist, and turns to and fro, his hands fluttering as he blows a cacophony of honks, moans, purrs and growls. Close your eyes, and he sounds just like a flock of Canada geese.
He is a one-man gaggle, and a young man with a dream.
The Eastern Shore is to goose hunters what Augusta National is to golfers — hallowed ground. Though the skeins flying overhead are not so plentiful as they were decades ago, the Canada goose remains as much a part of the region's identity as the blue crabs scrabbling along the bottom of Chesapeake Bay.
"Even if you don't hunt, you know about the goose-hunting traditions around here," said Shannahan, 20, a sturdy Eastern Shore native who has been hunting since he was 4 and who for the last four years has been competing in calling contests across the country.
In mid-November, the historic town of Easton will host its annual Waterfowl Festival and the World Goose Calling Championship, now in its 35th year. Marylanders have won the world championship 13 times, more than residents of any other state. Shannahan, who competed in the Maryland state championships in July, hopes to win No. 14.
First prize is worth thousands of dollars, a trophy, a grab bag of merchandise and, just maybe, fame.
A competitive goose caller needs lungs like a bellows, a musician's ear and obsessive attention to detail. John Taylor, the 1998 world champion from Quantico, Md., remembers filming top callers' routines and watching them over and over, studying how they held the call and how their throat muscles flexed and bulged.
Carved from exotic woods, molded from plastic or turned out of gleaming acrylic, the calls are basically hollow tubes shaped to please the eye and fit the hand. Inside is a single reed made of Mylar. A caller creates notes through breath control, tongue positioning and by opening and closing the hands around the call's bell-shaped exhaust.
A call that will fool a flock in the field can be had for $20. But a first-rate specimen, laser-engraved and hand-tuned, can command $250. Some callers switch from brand to brand, hoping to find a model that fits their lips and style like a custom suit.
Now these mofo's know whats up. What could be better than getting together and acting like assholes who know how to call geese. And the winner gets $1000? Fuck that noise, get me a ticket to Maryland.
The Eastern Shore is to goose hunters what Augusta National is to golfers — hallowed ground. Though the skeins flying overhead are not so plentiful as they were decades ago, the Canada goose remains as much a part of the region's identity as the blue crabs scrabbling along the bottom of Chesapeake Bay.
"Even if you don't hunt, you know about the goose-hunting traditions around here," said Shannahan, 20, a sturdy Eastern Shore native who has been hunting since he was 4 and who for the last four years has been competing in calling contests across the country.
In mid-November, the historic town of Easton will host its annual Waterfowl Festival and the World Goose Calling Championship, now in its 35th year. Marylanders have won the world championship 13 times, more than residents of any other state. Shannahan, who competed in the Maryland state championships in July, hopes to win No. 14.
First prize is worth thousands of dollars, a trophy, a grab bag of merchandise and, just maybe, fame.
A competitive goose caller needs lungs like a bellows, a musician's ear and obsessive attention to detail. John Taylor, the 1998 world champion from Quantico, Md., remembers filming top callers' routines and watching them over and over, studying how they held the call and how their throat muscles flexed and bulged.
Carved from exotic woods, molded from plastic or turned out of gleaming acrylic, the calls are basically hollow tubes shaped to please the eye and fit the hand. Inside is a single reed made of Mylar. A caller creates notes through breath control, tongue positioning and by opening and closing the hands around the call's bell-shaped exhaust.
A call that will fool a flock in the field can be had for $20. But a first-rate specimen, laser-engraved and hand-tuned, can command $250. Some callers switch from brand to brand, hoping to find a model that fits their lips and style like a custom suit.
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