Blue Fox Bay is located on the Northeast end of Afognak Island, just Northeast of Kodiak Island Alaska. This particular area of the Kodiak Island archipelago is known for its unusual, independent, and marginally law abiding residents who are spread throughout the vast shorelines and wilderness areas. Living in such a remote area breeds in itself a lifestyle that could, at most, be understood by those early sourdoughs who were responsible for the settling of this beautiful area in the Gulf of Alaska. The only laws that govern this particular area are those that are individually accepted by the one who makes it up for himself, or those that the Alaska State Troopers can possibly enforce when they have the unfortunate opportunity to fly into the ‘Law of the land’ area.

One of the ‘Public Use Cabins’ that I built and maintained for the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service’s Kodiak National Wildlife Refuge was located just inside of Blue Fox Bay, about a seven minute skiff ride from Hogg Island, which is just outside of the refuge area boundaries. Located on the small one square mile island is Blue Fox Bay Lodge. The lodge, which can be best described as an eclectic combination of various ghetto structures (more than likely pilfered from abandoned or 'borrowed' property), is not only interesting and unusual, but made unique by its proprietor Jerry Sparrow.

Now Jerry admits that his first name really is Jerry, but will also attest to the fact that his last name is one of many that he ‘had’ to make up in the past 50 years of his life. Standing about 5’10”, and weighing about 170 lbs, Jerry sports long black hair; a mustache; and a face that he shaves with a pair of scissors “‘Cause soap ‘an water is a luxury here in Blue Fox and is fer the customers.” He says while sippin’ on a ‘cocktail’ of rot gut whisky he drinks straight out of his “refillable” gallon jug. “One a day keeps the doctor away.” He boasts with a loud gruff laugh. Knowing Jerry as long as I have, you know he means ‘one gallon’ and not ‘one cocktail’ as he refers to it as.

I visited with Jerry each year that I went to the bay to perform maintenance on the refuge cabin there and have over the years developed a ‘true’ friendship based on trust; honesty; and a strong man to man handshake. I’ve helped him, and he has helped me, and neither of us ever kept track or record of any of it.

Back around ’95 or ’96, Jerry had a hog name Fred that he won in a poker game from some locals on the nearby island of Shuyak. Jerry wanted that hog real bad ‘cause he lived on Hogg Island, and as he’d make mention many times over ‘cocktails’, “There ain’t a single damn hog on this island other’n the damn hog customers that come ‘an eat up all my winterin’ supplies!” Anyway, Jerry was in ‘hog heaven’ when he won ‘ol Fred for himself and got to bring ‘im home to his ‘lodge’ in his 14’ skiff. “Y’ever try haulin’ a 300 lb. Hog in a 14’ skiff afore?” he said one time over ‘cocktails’. “Really don’t recommend it lessen yer drunked ‘er stoned up.” (His common reply to most everything that proves to be somewhat of a challenge).

Jerry kept Fred in a pen right next to the grave of Jerry’s ol’ time partner Slim “So’s ‘ol Slim could finally enjoy seein’ a hog runnin’ round on his island too.” When I had the opportunity to visit with Jerry in 1997, I noticed that ‘ol Fred wasn’t in his pen, so I asked Jerry what happened to him. “Damn thing bit me so I killed ‘im.” He said over yet another ‘cocktail’. “But that damn Fred got the last laugh out of it though!” he said during a “Whisky Belch”.

He went on to explain, “I went out to pet the dirty S.O.B. one night last December and the damn thing bit me in the leg. Sinced I was in a soberin’ type a mood ‘cause my 42’ boat (the Gypsy) sank with all my winterin’ supplies (and whisky) on board, I just decided it was ‘bout time ‘ol Fred pay his due. Figurin’ that ‘ol Fred was a bit hungry too since he tried a piece a my leg, I figured it was either him ‘er me, so’s I got my pistol out an shot the dirty S.O.B. an’ drug ‘em out to the hangin’ post (where meat is hung and aged). That same night I was on my new VHF radio,…. one a those new ‘High Tech’ ones that was suppose to go into the Gypsy,…. talkin’ with the guys over on Shuyak. Anyway, the guy I won ‘ol Fred from asked me how he was a doin’. Well, I told ‘im over the radio that Fred done pissed me off and I shot that damn ‘ol S.O.B. Fred and got ‘em hangin, in the tree now! Well, it wasn’t no more than ‘bout 12 hours later I hears a super cub flyin’ round the island. Next thing I sees these two Alaska State troopers hoppin’ outa that plane with their pistols pulled and checkin’ out all the blood that was layin’ all over the snow outside. Them damn lawboys come a stormin’ into my first rate lodge here whilst I got some payin’ customers here enjoyin’ a fancy breakfast of fresh pork side ‘an ‘cocktails’, an here they come a screamin’ somethin’ like “Alaska State Troopers!!, where’s ya got ‘ol Fred at?”. Well, I just kinda looks at ‘em with a ‘you guys is a pissin’ me off kinda look’, an says, “Hell boys, we’s a eatin a bit of ‘em now! Pull up a chair an I’ll dish ya up a couple plates!”. I mean hell, how was I suppose to know they was a thinkin’ I was bein’ some kinda cannibal! Guess they just kinda figured that since I lost all my winterin supplies that I was gonna turn to eatin my own customers ‘er somethin!