Once upon a time there was a bloke who worked in the bowels of the Machine Room at the Old Guv. His nickname was “The Fox”. He loved hunting with guns and would shoot anything he could eat. He like nothing better than to go hunting in the company of young men.
And so it came to pass that he led a company of greasy apprentices to the River Murray to shoot poor little ducks. But duck hunting season was over. Oh Well, that must have slipped his mind.
The Fox and his boys shot high and low but not a duck was taken. So depressed and low on ammo they started their way back to Adelaide by the Gorge Road. Then fortune smiled on them.
In a sheltered backwater of the mighty River Torrens there lived a great number of ducks, all unaware of the horror that lay waiting for them. The Fox called on his driver to stop and the boys piled out with guns braced for the kill. A massacre followed and the party gathered up all the little dead “domestic” ducks and carried on their merry way rejoicing in their good fortune. Three cheers for The Fox.
Happily, retribution overtook these monsters when a policeman appeared at the Old Guv and demanded on behalf of the farmer who owned the pond and the ducks to appear before a Magistrate of the Court.
And so so they did holding their heads in shame and being fined $5 a duck (it’s 1970 by the way).