DUCK HUNT CARLETON ISLAND

Graham (a.k.a." precious" ) has made notable progress as a duck hunter over the years. However, he does have a way to go. It is unlikely, however, that I will live long enough to get the job done by myself.  I need help.

 

He started out like this in diapers on Grenadier many years ago......he looks like he has a load in his pants to me........
 

 

At the end of our first day on Carleton shooting with good old Uncle Wyatt, he was reduced to this....poor pup............. I figured I’d finish him off easy  the next day and have the whole place to my self.

.

The cluster flies gave me a hand and had him talking to himself at drinks time as he charged around the cabin like a madman waving the vacuum wand at the flies

 

 

Poor old “ means “ crapped out early that night and left me talking to Little Bear and a few still dying  and buzzing cluster flies
 

The next day he was slipping fast and gave himself a pounding headache...me too..  blowing some god-awful tune on his duck call. I’ve never  heard anything like it and hope I never do again.

 

It was early to bed for Graham

 

so he could spend two hours on his back early the next  morning under the camp wrapping heat tape around the water pipes while I stacked up the BBs like cord wood free of that god awful  sound of  his duck call blowing in my ears.

 

All and all, for a young pup, Graham did a good job and left the old timer hoping he had one or two more good shoots left in him.

 

 

 

Thanks Graham,

Uncle Wyatt

 

P.S.

Amy informed Graham as we were leaving that he shouldn’t be late for their dinner party that night.

It took me back.