JANUARY-FEBRUARY 2018 • NEBRASKAland 51
story, and his name. So I returned to my truck, pulled on
my hip boots, grabbed my camera gear and headed his
way.
At the riverbank, I realized the water was deeper than
it looked from the hill, and chest waders would've been
a better choice. I introduced myself from afar, and the
gentleman graciously walked 40 yards from his stump
blind to the bank and did the same. When he said his name
was Tim Schuckman, it was a small-world moment. His
brother, Jeff, is a Nebraska Game and Parks Commission
fisheries biologist in Norfolk. His late father, John, was a
conservation officer in northeastern Nebraska for 29 years.
It was also an "oh no" moment. I knew Tim's mother had
passed a few days earlier. When I passed my condolences,
the 59-year-old said he had made the drive from Broken
Bow that morning to escape. I offered to leave. He said stay.
So I tucked myself away in a tangle of tree roots on the
bank, and watched.
There were plenty of geese on the reservoir and on the
river above Highway 96. A few flocks passed, and to each
Tim called on his flute. But this late in the season, which
would close in three days, fooling geese can be tough.
Between flocks, Tim and I chatted about all things hunting
and fishing. He proudly pointed to the fiberglass decoys that
made up half his spread, and the fact that they were made
by his father. Tim was the coverboy of the NEBRASKAland
Fishing special issue in 2001, a photo by long-time
magazine staffer Ken Bouc of him holding a big northern
pike, one of his favorite fish and mine, on a Sandhills lake.
So we traded pike stories.
Six hours after we bumped into each other in the parking
lot, and four after I'd pulled up a riverbank, I had to say
goodbye and move on to the real assignment. Tim stuck it
out to sunset. A few flocks of geese appeared to turn for a
look, but none did so much as set a wing. "There's always
next year," Tim would say later.
Still, his day was well spent. And so was mine. I have an
innate appreciation for hunters who go the extra mile, as I
often do myself. I just hope I can still do the same when I'm
Tim's age. ■
Schuckman watches a distant flock of geese from his
blind, a weathered cottonwood stump in the middle of the
river.
