DUCK FOR COVER After an enjoyable few months as resident poets at the Bailey Bar Caravan Park performing our show 'Laughter & Tears From The Bush', Chris and I decided we'd like to do a bit of bush camping. We headed out for the Ward River on the Charleville-Quilpie road and found a great camping spot away from the highway and on the edge of the river, shaded by tall, twisted, gum trees and alive with bird life. Our intentions were to enjoy a bit of peace and quiet, do a bit of fishing, and generally take it easy.
We'd set up camp and soon had the lines set, anticipating a feed of yellow-belly for tea. I think we must have left our run a bit late, as our tally showed that every man and his dog must have been there before us, as our catch was undersize and we had to throw back all that we'd caught. That's all except the euro, but we weren't fussed on eating the old mate and decided to cremate him instead. They're certainly stuffing up the river systems. Not to be beaten we decided to support the beef industry and cooked a few steaks instead.
Early next morning I thought I'd try my luck again and set a few lines. To fill in time I used a rod to cast out past the edge of some reeds on the bend in the river and next minute the slack disappeared in the line and the rod lay over. I gave it the customary jerk and began reeling in what ever had taken the bait. To my surprise I found myself reeling in a wild duck that had latched on as the bait hit the water and did he put on a shindig.
It was near impossible to get the hook out of the old mate's mouth so I found myself having to make a decision on what to do. He was beyond saving, I reasoned, and as it didn't look like we were going to score a feed of fish, a bit of roast duck would go down just as well. With my mind made up I went about preparing the duck for lunch. With the old mate plucked I washed him in the river and as I turned to go up the bank I could hear an outboard-motor close by.
To my surprise it was two fishery inspectors heading my way and my first thought was. Is it duck
season or not? Not willing to take a gamble I tossed the poor creature into the water and tried to get rid of as many feathers as I could. The inspectors stopped the motor and surveying the area they obviously spotted the feathers still attached to my boots.
"Have you been duck shooting at all mate," said one of the inspectors as he tied the boat to a branch overhanging the water.
"No way mate! I can honestly say that I have not been duck shooting!"
"That's good," said his mate. "You know it's out of
season, don't you?"
"Well I didn't to tell you the truth, but I'm glad you told me."
The feathers didn't help my cause at all and as they looked around one said.
"Have you seen a duck at all today mate?"
With no way of ducking for cover I blurted out.
"Well to tell you the truth, I have seen a duck this morning."
"I thought you might have," said the inspector with a grin on his face, "and where might it be now?"
With just as silly a grin on my face I replied.
"He's around the bend beyond the reeds there having a swim. I'm just minding his clothes."
Bush Poet, Balladeer and Yarn Spinner
Merv Webster
www.users.tpg.com.au/thegrey
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