The boy, just short of his teens, sitting in the bow of the boat couldn’t believe his good luck. Not only had his father taken him out on the morning of the beginning of duck season but he had just handed him the Lefever side-by-side 12-gauge shotgun with the instruction, “Shoot the duck again if it moves.”
THEY were sitting under the willow trees on the lake’s edge, 100 metres from Bott’s Point, which lay on the ducks’ flight lane from Wright’s Inlet (named after his family) a kilometre away.
The ducks would swing into Bott’s Point Bay after being disturbed from Wright’s Inlet, then fly over the willows where the hunters were moored. A mob of teal had just done that, and one dropped out at the shot. The boy’s father started rowing
