Duckpower Incorporated in Danger of Folding

I hope that everyone enjoys this jointly organized attack on our beloved friend the Duckman. He had apparently gotten a little bit big for his britches and needed a good shake down, of which we were more than happy to provide. Please add many additional comments poking fun at my good buddy Mr. President.

A spokesman from the corporate offices of Duckpower, Inc. has confirmed rumors of a possible shutdown.  It seems that many employees and one founding member of the company have become increasingly disgruntled at the leadership being displayed by the company’s President, Mr. Duckman.   There have long been accusations of abuse from the highest office, but loyal followers of the company have been encouraged to sweep those thoughts under the rug for the sake of the business.  The head of the Southern division was overheard saying that “the mental abuse and constant ridicule displayed by Mr. President towards his loyal employees were sure to bring an end to what some have said was a shaky union to begin with”.

It seems that the problems started with an unpaid corporate fishing sponsorship.  Mr. President, who apparently agreed to sponsor and employee’s bass tournament failed to fulfill his sponsorship obligations because the sponsored team did not technically “win” the tournament. Our sources say that the bill was never paid and tensions started to run a little high in the Southern Division.

I Am SOOOO Pretty!

The Northern Division of the company can be considered even more unstable.  The relationship between Mr. President and his co-founder Mr. Duckhammer (AKA Rabid Outdoorsman) and his brother, the one simply know as Diesel is a difficult one to explain, to say the least.

It has been reported that on many occasions, Mr. President has abused his power, using it to his distinct advantage, in blatant attempts to elicit sexual favors from his constituents. As proof of his debauchery, this ½ naked photo of Mr. President clearly depicts him staring lovingly at the cameraman, poor Vice President Diesel, in a vain attempt to seduce him with his powerful animal magnetism. This was of course only the beginning of Mr. President’s sexually deviant behavior.

Sometimes NO Means NO

Now if this was the final extent of shame that Mr. President had wrought upon Duck Power he could have perhaps, if subjecting himself to therapy for his sexual addiction, been forgiven. Unfortunately, this is not the final story of disgrace and shame upon which he has brought down on Duck Power. Note this additional photo that documents his unwanted fondling of my shoulder. Sure it may seem innocent but trust me this is a slippery slope ending in ruin and it is certainly not the first time that Mr. President has brought shame up us.

Perhaps even worse than his sexual perversion is Mr. President’s shameful shooting skills. Far be it for me to write about such indiscretions but rather find it more appropriate to highlight it on video. Please if you dare, take a few minutes to see this disturbing footage (WARNING, it is riddled with vulgarity.)

In retrospect of these vile acts against humanity and his molestation of waterfowl, we the members of Duck Power Incorporated feel it best to simply end with an impeachment of Mr. President. Viva La Revolution!!

The Duckman Cometh (End Game)

Just because a piece of machinery tells of the correct hunting time doesn’t mean that your query is on the same timetable. We patiently waited as ducks sailed high overhead and well out of shotgun range. As we sat there quietly suddenly shots echoed up lake and directly east of our position and I knew our chance was rapidly approaching.

Now I don’t often make mistakes (well those that I admit to anyway!) so when I blew Duckmans chance at scoring a Canadian Goose by a stupid freak mistake in identification I was ready to hang myself by my own wader straps. Before continuing let me explain the preceding events more closely. Barely had it become legal and I saw a form coming up lake that I identified and immediately dismissed as a Loon. As it approached to within 40 yards in the early morning light I re-identified it as a stinky shad or common Cormorant. As it passed by the blind at 10 YARDS, I suddenly realized to late that it was a goose. I somehow managed to quickly fire off two sound shots just to make sure it never returned! Poor Duckman was unimpressed with his guides powers of observation and I think it was at this point he mumbled something about gutting nearsighted individuals with rusty knives. If there is one thing I have learned about the Duckman through my years of friendship it is that is he likes to gut things . . .

Seconds after the infamous Canadian incident the Duckman’s Beretta Extrema belched forth its lethal payload in a three note rapid fire beat that would have made Motley Cru’s Tommy Lee jealous. Out of the sky dropped a Green Head and it the early morning twilight the Duckman flashed a million-dollar smile. The duck took some “doing” to retrieve as it landed smack in the middle of a nasty bunch of swamp growth and I had to take out the boat and leave the dog with Duckman. Well the poor old girl just about had a nervous breakdown watching me go out and get that duck but it was for her own good. The retrieval required a second shot to dispatch the fighting duck and that area of the swamp is particularly nasty and know to be filled with alligators, white sharks, lawyers and other nasty bits that would tear a puppy to pieces. Upon returning to the blind I had to offer the dog ½ a Nutrigrain bar as a peace offering before she would sit beside me again.

The morning moved on as is typical with moments of waiting interspersed with moments of shear terror, elation and panic. The emotional rollercoaster that is duck hunting is one of the most exciting thing about hunting waterfowl. A duckless morning can suddenly become record book potential with one flock of ducks of the distant honking of a goose. As the minutes crept by I wondered if our day would be average or of above average for an opener. In the general scheme of things we didn’t have to wait long as the duck were willing to corporate and by late morning a few last minute mallards made our day spectacular.

Below is a short video of me discussing one of those shots that will MAKE your entire season. Hell who am I kidding I will be talking about this when I am 80!


I have to admit that as 10:00 AM rolled around I was a little bit sad that the day had to end. Moments in time this fun are something that you want to attempt to extend as long as possible BUT everything must eventually end. Gear was packed, the campsite broken down and a wet satisfied Labrador curled up and let out a low sigh. As my little one and I set on the deck and waved goodbye to the Duckman I couldn’t help but think when would be the next time we would be able to share a foggy rainy morning together in the duck blind!

Wild Crow Motorcycle Tour - Part IV

Wild Crow Motorcycle Tour by Stephen Vose (Part IV)

It had rained all night long and as I rounded my first corner the bike slightly fishtailed and I began to seriously reflect on my decision to hold off until next summer to outfit the bike with new shoes. Fortunately, by the time I reached the boat launch in Robinson the fog was lifting the car traffic had dried out route one enough to make the remainder of the trip less “interesting”.

The miles went quickly and before I knew it the sun had completely burned off the morning fog. The evaporative effects of the suns rays were causing the freshly cut hay fields to steam creating some beautiful effects. I attempted to photograph a few locations but some things in life you just can’t photograph or express but rather have to be seen to be truly appreciated.

Upon arriving at “Duckman’s” home on Beals Island, I was presented with a pair of knee high rubber boots and a note stating that I need to meet him at the town dock. Taking off leather hikers and throwing them inside the door I donned the rubbers and sped off toward the landing! Well, the Duckman was “patiently” waiting for me at the landing. After brandishing an 8 inch long rusty knife and flashing a million dollar smile, he mumbled something about gutting a tardy individual like a fish . . . I immediately jumped in the boat!

Well for the remainder of that long day, I snapped photographs and assisted where I could which consisted mostly of swabbing the deck and eating my way through the Duckman’s profit margin. I have to admit that I initially felt a little bit guilty, as I tore my way through a couple of two pound lobsters and watched Duckman choked down a peanut butter and fluff sandwich but that soon passed. I believe in the end, we pulled close to 250 traps but Duckman will have to remind me of the poundage.

On my final day on Beals Island I was fortunate enough to be able to follow Duckman and this Dad onto the tidal flats and document them “wormin”. For those of you unfamiliar with this process let me tell you its damn hard work. Digging sand and blood worms requires you to be bent over and working a worm rake through the mud for hours at a time. If you can somehow miraculously manage to keep you footing in the mucky soup and not break your back from the effort you will be rewarded with profits but just how much depends as much on mother nature as your work ethic. The highlight of my morning was showing off the pictures to Duckman’s Dad who in turn showed me how to successfully crack and pick a crab . . . something that despite all my years in Maine I had always failed to do correctly.

I wished I could have stayed longer on Beals but know I will be returning in November for sea duck hunting with Duckman and his newly acquired 18 foot Lund. The open road beckons, however, and after washing off the morning filth I was once again heading down route one toward Castine.

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For the rest of the Wild Crows Motorcycle Adventure See:
Wild Crows Motorcycle Tour Part I
Wild Crows Motorcycle Tour Part II
Wild Crows Motorcycle Tour Part III
Wild Crows Motorcycle Tour Part IV
Wild Crows Motorcycle Tour - Podcast