Ending the Year with a BANG!

Hopefully our first hunt in the new year, the last day of the season, will prove more fruitful that the last of 2012. Between the three of us that huddled in the reeds and bushes riverside, we managed ONE duckling that wouldn't be sufficient to feed a baby. They eat meat right?

There were geese a plenty flying about but they were sky high and landing, by the hundreds, in a field we were nowhere near and did not have permission to hunt on.

After a morning of not much luck, we retired for a yummy BBQ lunch of venison sausage, eggplant salad and wine. Just a wee dram to take the nip out of the air.

As we fired up the BBQ and hauled things out of the truck in preparation, my brother came across a purple, not pink for the record, bag that my cousin had packed some of the lunch accoutrement in. It had the name and number of some pipe fitters union and the date of a training session.

My brother asked what kind of a union had pink bags? I of course noted it was purple, the colour of royalty, not pink. My cousin, in true hunting day tradition, started dropping f-bombs to explain that it wasn't f**king pink and that it had been for the f**king instructors.

Were the pipe fitting instructors female? Inquired my brother.

"No you stupid f**k." Came the response.

I was confused. Clearly the implication was that men, pipe fitters in particular, would not want / use a bag of a certain colour because it was not manly. I would just like to say that I have fitted more pipe than most, hee hee, and found the bag a fetching colour.

I noted to my brother that several unions would use a bag, including the serrated blade manufacturers society of North America. (see last year's hunting post and insert guffaw here)

Lunch aside, the day was a bust. Having packed up and cleaned our catch-of-the-day, brother and I headed to mothers.

I walked in the door and here's how the conversation started:

Me - "Hi mom, how are you?"

Mom - "Good. Where's my silver spoon?"

Me - "What?"

Mom - "You know, that big silver flat spoon I use for serving."

My mind - "Wha? I, I'm still wearing my boots and just walked in. How the f**k (it was a hunting day you know) am I supposed to know where your spoon is?"

My mouth - "I have no idea where it is because I have no idea what you're talking about."

I went back out to shovel the walk. I really shouldn't make fun of my mother. First and foremost because she is my mother. But, if you're a Mitchell, you're fair game for mockery. Secondly, she is one of the few that has the patience to actually wait between blog posts and thirdly, because she is busy and stressed getting ready to move.

I would like to think I will blog one more time in 2012. But I probably won't, so HAPPY NEW YEAR and I'll do better in 2013.