July 18, 2005


My Uncle Pete, (yes, the one who was in the paper posing with a potato he grew that was shaped like a moose), reports by e-mail that the salmon holocaust continues on the Kenai Peninsula in Alaska:



This work FISHIN is for the birds. Yeah, I wish those eagles would leave the dump and clean our rivers of these pesky red sockeye salmon. Can you believe, we got 61 of those pests? I also I got a 61-pound King Salmon. My FISHIN buddy Ben had to clean that King Salmon. He has a sharp knife.


Those fish got my boat a mess... had to pressure wash all the blood and slime out of it. Sometimes I think it isn't worth all the work!!!!!!

The other Lad is Neal Hammond, one of Ben's wood carvin buddies.

As I said last time, I'm not jealous at all.


Fish tales. Big time.

The Last Fuzzy Slipper Frontier.

There's a bar in them thar country.

Flowers are a-bloomin'.

The fog rolls in.

Moose intruder.

On their way home.

Sunsets, salmon and civil ceremonies.

Volcanoes, churches and halibut.

Eagle tree, limb by limb.

A fantasy RV for The Last Frontier.

Heading north to the homestead.

Publicizing moose-shaped tubers.

Posted by Jeff at July 18, 2005 08:06 AM | TrackBack
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