Over the past 25 years, there have been dozens of times I was convinced hunting buddy Dave Dvorak was halfway to being an idiot savant.

When Dave doesn't focus, he is like a 220-pound Lab with muddy feet who is darn glad to see you. But in financial matters or capers with rod and gun, his genius shines through.

On one outing a few years back, I was certain the 4-year-old cheddar had slid right off Dave's cracker. He invited me on a "sure-thing" goose hunt out on his Rock County farm.

The sun had already risen when Dave announced it was time to go get 'em. He threw a dozen Canada goose shells in the back of his John Deere Gator and we headed for the township park that borders Dave's property. When Dave assured me he had permission to hunt in the park, the "idiot savant" designation weighed heavy in my thoughts.

After parking the Gator in some bushes, Dave grabbed the decoys and headed for the baseball field. I followed at a safe distance, figuring he must have dropped his medication.

Dave pointed toward the dugout on the third base line while whispering for me to crawl in the dugout, hunker down and get ready. He then proceeded to set the dozen goose decoys around the infield, including two on the pitcher's mound. After carefully inspecting decoy placement with alert heads on the outside of the spread and all the blocks facing pretty much into the wind, the big goof sprinted across the ball field and dove into an open trash dumpster.

Just about the time I was figuring out a gentle way to suggest to Dave that he may need some professional help, the cacophony of about 100 honkers just over the hill in a small strip-pit pond raised the hackles on my neck.

"Don't shoot the scouts!" came an echoed whisper from the dumpster. At that point, I honestly wondered if he meant the first couple of geese or Troop 56 on a nature hike.

Then two geese popped over the horizon with wings already set, fluttering in to land in the outfield just behind second base. After a couple of cautious minutes, this pair began to feed on green outfield grass. Five minutes later, at least 50 of the big Canadas cleared the trees with wings cupped and landing gear down. When the vanguard passed over the first base line, Dave thundered, "Take 'em!" and popped up out of the dumpster with his Benelli blazing.

We cut the appropriate notches in our Exterior Zone tags and headed back to the house. It was barely 8 a.m. And Dave's chortling laugh had me pondering the "idiot savant" question once again.

Success on this outing was no fluke. If you do some serious scouting and pay keen attention to detail, filling goose tags can take less than an hour at countless locations across Wisconsin -- provided you know how to shoot geese.

Five years before the ballpark blowout, Dave had considerable difficulty finding the kill zone with a magnum load of T-shot or BBB, confessing the big birds somehow continued to fly away, even when he took a shot at nearly point-blank range. Many novice goose hunters experience the same problem, which is easily corrected.