Report to the Commissionaire:

The Great Dismal Dawgs Retrieving and Foul Water Hunting 

Alliance successfully completed its first Annual Muddy Creek 

Mollie Invitational Duck Hunt on the brilliant Saturday 

following Thanksgiving.

You may of heard that all did not go as planned but nothing 

could be further from the truth.  

Trust me, it happened this way.

If you remember Mollie’s initial Hunt Test was sponsored by 

the Knotts Island /Back Bay

 Hunt Club at least 150 Miles from Knotts Island and the 

Back Bay. 

(Knotts Island/Back Bay Hunt Club, indeed, so many of 

these Clubs have affectatious monikers, don’t you think?) 

Well, I was curious as to where Knotts Island 

and the Back Bay were, why a Hunt Club so named tested its

 dogs far from its native environs 

and whether there was even hunting in said locality?  

In short I’m nosey, or maybe just curious, 

and you know what they say about curiosity...

I can tell you one thing I learned from that weekend, 

curiosity never killed a Duck!  But I digress, I googled 

Knotts Island on my trusty computer and found 

the Barnes Hunting Lodge and its phone number.

A grand plan, inspired by an hunter’s oil painting, had 

been shaping itself in the recesses of my brain 

since Mollie’s first attempt to win a ribbon.  

I would hunt ducks with Mollie far from the artifice and 

pretense of an AKC Hunt. 

 Man and his trusty companion facing and 

triumphing over elemental forces of nature, 

hunters from the far reaches of the country would 

join me, ducks would fall from heaven 

like feathered manna and Mollie would retriever every 

last one of them.  

She would redeem herself and me.  

I called the number to the Hunting Lodge 

and spoke to a lady named Kay.

“No, Mr. Barnes is not here.”

“He might be here next week, call back.”

“He only takes out parties of six hunters.”

I sensed it Kay’s job to dissuade me from bringing 

the grand plan to fruition but my soul and my dog’s 

heart were pure so I called back and then ventured 

forth to Knotts Island to set up the hunt.  

(Finding Knotts Island on a map and actually 

getting there are two completely

 different endeavors.  

I found my innate sense of direction stymied and finally 

admitted defeat, stopped and asked directions

 of three ladies in a town called Pungo.  

(How they carried on with winks and sly looks. 

You would think those three women in the Pungo Deli 

had never given directions to a man before.)

I met Mr. Barnes at his hunting lodge and finalized 

arrangements. 

 Four to six hunters, all lined up, would make the party with 
guides and food, ducks and Mollie.  

All things bright and beautiful, we would have a 

superb end to a holiday weekend.

But sometimes, as Burns penned,

The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men

Gang aft agley,

An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,

For promis'd joy !


More to come...