Posted by She Who Tracks La Longue Carabine on September 28, 2000 at 21:32:02:
Dear Miss Katie,
Still here at the same place on the bank of the Mohawk. Just can't seem to get m'self movin' agin, since the huntin's so fine. Once the geese got past, the ducks started flockin' low over the trees, leavin' from the Northern lakes for the Winter Season. Well, now since all I have to do is sit here restin' my back comfortable-like against a tree and shootin' and reloadin' while I sip cool water and munch on a roasted drumstick or two, I brought down enough ducks to send a respectable load yer way. So I told the last Indian Runner to bring along one of his brothers, and his tribe could have all the ducks they could pluck, and a bit o' rum I traded for from that Morgan feller. So goldurn, if all the women in the tribe don't show up that very next afternoon and they all start a-pluckin' away, and first thing ye know, we got four big sacks o' duck feathers and down, and then these Indian maidens decide to throw a feast. So they build the fire up big and hot, and then they start chuggin' around it in a celebration dance. The braves have got their drums tuned up for fair, and they're all chantin'
Duck pluckin', duck pluckin'
Pluck-a-duck, pluck-a-duck
Duck pluckin', duck pluckin'
Plucka, plucka, plucka duck.
Even Hector was jiggin' and jivin' around the fire well into the night, when finally there was braves layin' all over the ground - too tired to dance anymore I guess - and the maidens put out the fire and cleaned up the duck bones and corn fritters and scrubbed the trenchers in the river and dragged in brush to make beds and everybody fell asleep. It was some fine celebration; yes it was. Now they've all gone home to their village, and the Runners should be haulin' up to yer front stoop any time now.
Guess I should be headin' on east in a couple o' days. Never make the George Road iffn I stick around here until the weather turns.
She Who Tracks La Longue Carabine