We were driving down a rural highway on Maryland's Eastern Shore, when I spotted a hand-painted sign I was sure I must have read wrong.

"I could swear we just passed a sign in a guy's yard that said, 'Goose Pits for Rent.' But that can't be right, can it?" I asked

With a straight face -- he knows I'll believe anything for at least three seconds, if he can keep from laughing -- my husband, Doug, declared, "Goose pits are a delicacy made from the tender underarm area of geese. You serve them with the feathers on."

By the time he said "feathers," I knew he was yanking my chain.

But, apparently to Doug's further amusement, I asked, "Why would anybody want to rent a pit to trap geese in? I mean, if you can herd the geese all the way over to wherever you rented the pit, why not just herd them into a barn? Or dig your own pit closer to home.

"And it can't be for barbecuing," I added, "that would be overkill. Geese aren't that big."

Doug white-knuckled the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. His lips were pressed tightly together, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. A single tear escaped the corner of his eye and tracked down his cheek.

"You can pull over if you need to," I said testily. "Now, tell me: What's a goose pit, and why would anyone want to rent one?"

Once the spasms of hilarity passed, Doug explained the true story; a goose pit is a hole in the ground covered with cornstalks. Hunters hunker down inside and wait for geese to fly over so they can shoot at them.

"That sounds like cheating," I opined. "If the geese can't see you, of course, you'll get the jump on them. Where's the sport in that?"

"Exactly!" said Doug. "People dig goose pits on their farms, or other rural property, and rent them to hunters. The same way people rent out deer stands."

In my mind's eye, I saw a roadside stand selling deerburgers, fries and shakes. But why hadn't I ever seen one?

And why rent a deerburger stand, when you could just build your own and start a franchise? Seeing the confused look on my face, Doug continued his treatise on hunting techniques.

"A deer stand," he said, "is a platform up in a tree where you sit and wait for a deer to walk by, and then shoot at it."

I could see a trend forming.

"Let me get this straight," I began. "Once again, the human being hides, wearing camouflage clothing, with a great big gun, in order to dupe a poor, dumb animal for sport.

"And you don't think that's cheating?"

Then I remembered that deer had eaten our day lilies this year before they even bloomed. Suddenly, I didn't feel quite so sorry for the deer.

"Hunting is an active verb," I continued. "In the old days, hunters went out hunting -- with an 'ing' on the end -- to get dinner. They walked around; stalked their prey; you know, made an effort."

"What you're describing is more like a game of hide and seek-- only, one person is peeking," I said.

"Then I guess I'd better not give you the lowdown on duck blinds," Doug decided. "But I can tell you this: they're definitely not a window treatment."

Cathy Drinkwater Better writes from Eldersburg. E-mail her at cbetter@juno.com.

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