Well, it's Friday afternoon. Been a long, hard week in many ways. Just came from the beer store after I was at the bank after I was at the lawyer's to pick up the cheque for the hunting/fishing camp I sold. Thought I'd sip an ale and let the stress ebb away, so I came in here to see if there were any revalations.

BTW, Don't hunt anymore. Last time I fired my old dirty thirty at a deer it wasn't at the deer. First shot was over it, then in front of it to turn it back to the woods, then into the trees behind it to keep it moving. Otherwise, the inexperienced hunter on stand down the road might a shot the little six-pointer. Only reason I had the gun with me was in case a bears.

Anyway, I read >>Do deer hunters gather in large groups then herd deer them then kill them in large numbers?<< Yeah. And they use hounds to do it, as well.

M.Ted. Ya know, if ya keep shovellin shit, yer gonna dig a hole so deep, ya mightn't never git out.

Peace... that thar caribou stew was mostly fat n gristle.

I was eatin caribou, moose, deer NB), ruffed grouse (NB), speckled trout, seal flipper pie... and a wee bit of Lamb's Navy one night in the Codroy Valley north a Channel Port-aux-Basques (look it up ye ferriners). Me buddy's neighbours were over and one young lass of the tender age of 96 never said peep until the pie. She simply smiled, listened, nodded, and was just so sweet. Talk turned to the cod... the Portugese and Spaniards and Russians... the Feds and their biologists and their quotas... the rise in water temp... the scallop draggers.... the moratorium... Mary cleared her throat and there was silence. She raised her head and glanced about the tale, ackowledging each, as if to say, "Thank you for the floor.", and said, "It's the fookin seals."

After the laughter subsided, talk turned to other things, and Mary never said peep until the goodbyes... at 3AM. It was the best laugh of the night and I shall never forget it.