My evil brother (no, Paul, the one from the coast) decided that he would go duck hunting this past weekend at the famous Christmas Place. He finally talked Dad in to going with him and before day he threw his decoys, dad and all their other junk in the Gator and took off for the lake. At the lake he threw all his junk, decoys and Dad in the boat, tied a rope to it and waded the edge for 250 yards to a spot halfway up the lake. He threw his junk and Dad on the bank, set out the decoys and then totally exhausted staggered into the brush to set up.
ed. note (the exact same thing happened to me the last time I shot a big 250lb. buck and it fell in the lake.) Damn Eagles!