I went duck hunting this morning for the first time in my life.  I invited myself along with two friends who were planning on hitting the shores of Grand Lake for the opening day of migratory bird season.  While they had fancy shotguns, I hunted with a Sony.  That's right, I was DUCK TAPING.  I recorded the hunt on video and still photos as Tom Boaks and Mr. Doyle did battle with their feathered foe.

 The morning started out before sunrise with a bit of mist drifting across the still surface of Grand Lake.  Mr. Doyle couldn't get the motor of his boat started so an electric trolling motor pushed the small flat bottom boat.  In the absence of the sound of a gas motor, the boat ride was quite peaceful.  Did I mention it was a small boat?  Two men and the hunting gear might have been a comfortable fit, but since I invited myself along, the ride was as Mr. Doyle said, cozy.  So the boat sat a little lower in the water.  No big thing.   It's not like Grand Lake was rocking.  The water was still.

     Before the morning was over, the mist on the lake had turned into some serious fog.  Normally, one would expect the sun to burn the moisture out of the air, but the fog hung around like a spell had been cast.  The pea soup made it hard to spot incoming birds, but created an excellent video/photo opportunity.

     Out of the mist, a boat drifted into view.  Two men were either trying to catch fish or were really bad duck hunters trying to catch a bird with stale bread on a hook.  

     I suddenly realized I couldn't hear Tom and Mr. Doyle talking anymore.  I must have wondered to the other side of the island.  I didn't feel like I was alone though.  I was being watched.  I decided to return to the duck blind and found myself staring face to face with and island hag.  The horrid wretch invited me to her shack which to meet her two sisters.  I didn't think she would take no for an answer.  There were three of them altogether. I wondered if perhaps Three Sister's Island got it's name from these lonely Grand Lake ladies.  

The three gals had a pet that lived under their porch.  I'm not sue what they fed it, but hoped it wouldn't be me. 

They introduced me to their uncle who didn't say much.  All I could figure from him was he collected bones.  The inside of the three sister's cottage (they never dust) was decorated a bit differently then one might expect for an up North cabin. 

After returning to Tom and Mr. Doyle, I reflected on my visit to the three sisters.  Not only does October mean hunting season, it also means HAUNTING SEASON! 

Watch mypresqueisle.com for future postings of upcoming spooky events in the P.I. area.