Sunday night before sunset we headed for the slick waters of the banana river to check our crab traps.
hunger and the tinge of a wine buzz prompted us to seek a crustacean dinner.
fortunately for the BW Tribe a good friend afforded us the opportunity to haul all of us to the crab grounds.
empty coolers soon filled.
spectators were soon adorn with a smelly... sorta... badge of honor.
trap after trap thoughts of an early trip home filled our weary crabbing minds.
one more trap...we realized the "scorn"was full. we headed west.
victory dances were danced.
soon the entry way to our home was made clear as old florida mingled with a new born evening.
bounty was cleaned...fingers fatigued.
old bay brought to life the bodies of freshly departed souls.
sides were cooked for tradition only...they would hardly be touched.
others were prepared for the battle to in-sue.
the battlefield set... the banana river warriors gorged.
victims fell rapidly.
gruesome devastation lay in the wake of the heros.
body parts were shared with the youth.
hunger in the belly extinguished but thirst to kill again rumbled.
