You saw the signs in first year. Plain white paper, large, bolded Arial, taped up in improbable places. They said “GOOSEHUNT April 5.” You took a picture of the one posted 10 feet up on the Aquatic Centre wall and sent it to your friend.
What the hell is this?
Now you’re in your fourth year, and you know what Goosehunt is. That first time you got there a little late, nervous, not wanting to arrive before your friends or before the crowd got drunk and talkative. You stood in your dorm room double-checking your clothes and making sure you had your wallet. When you stepped outside, the dusk was spring-warm but it made you shiver anyway. The raccoons in garbage cans paid you no mind; you walked to Koerner's Pub with the last sun slivers peeking through the trees.
You didn’t recognize anyone when you arrived. The crowd was faceless and intimidating, but you heard loud rock music from the other side of the patio and swam through to get a view, craning your neck to see above the strangers’ heads. It was a five-piece band, all guys, set up on a low stage in a sunken courtyard. One of them led the melody with a fiddle, the others followed suit with bass, guitars and drums. It wasn’t your kind of sound, but you were starting to get into it when someone grabbed your shoulder from behind.
You turned and didn’t recognize them at first, but they smiled, said your name and asked how you’re doing. You remembered them, then, from a class that you’d been skipping since the midterm. You’d spoken to them once before outside IKB and then, somehow, their name came back to you. You smiled and said finals were killing you, but you had a summer job lined up and were looking forward to getting started. How about you?
The rest of the night you don’t remember quite so well. You got a drink with your new friend. Eventually your old ones showed up, already drunk and raucous. It’s difficult to place which events happened which year, because you went back to Goosehunt every time. You have arguments with your roommates now — Sleepy Gonzales played in ‘23! No, they were ‘24 ‘cause they were after Exit Strategy, and Exit Strategy was definitely ‘24!
One year, you’re not sure which, you were walking down the driveway out of Koerner’s around midnight, head swimming from the beer, running through the people you’d met and the bands you’d heard. Your friend you’d met that first year now played bass with one of them. You hadn’t spoken lately, but it felt good to see them doing what they loved, doing it well. Someone came up to you and broke your train of thought, offered to buy your used ticket QR for $50. It only cost $20 in the first place; you walked away from Goosehunt $30 richer and in disbelief at your luck.
There are some things you don’t have to place because they happen every year. The beer spilled down your shirt by the over-eager mosher, the bruises on your shins waking up the next day. The ringing in your ears when you step into the washroom, the stinging in your bladder when you realize there's a line. And though you’re not as nervous in the next few years, the April shiver that runs through you on your way out the door never leaves you.
So yes, now you know what Goosehunt is, and you know that it’s important. You’ve spoken with musicians and fans alike who swear by its vital place in the local scene. You’ve met the organizers at the Blank Vinyl Project and you’ve seen the passion and creativity that goes into the event every year. You’ve been awed by the talent of local musicians performing here and at venues all over the city, creating unique and personal art that takes up space in your mind. You know what Goosehunt is, and this spring, you get there early.
The crowd is just as dense as your first time there, but now it has a face. Several, in fact. You wave at a friend from the pottery club, they introduce you to their new girlfriend who swears they saw you on the bus. You spot someone who owes you $10 and call them over — they buy you a drink and you call it even. This year, it’s you who reaches through the crowd to grab the shoulder of someone you met in class. They look a little nervous; it’s their first time here, but you talk about the bands and ask them how their term’s going. They say finals are killing them, but they’re ready for the summer.
Share this article
First online
