A hunter is out in the woods hunting ducks. He spots a fine mallard, raises his gun, and shoots. The bird falls into a farmer’s nearby fenced-in property.
The hunter climbs over the fence to retrieve his duck, but just as he picks it up, the large, grumpy farmer walks out of his barn and confronts him.
“What do you think you’re doing?” demands the farmer. “That’s my duck on my land.”
The hunter argues back, “I shot it, and it fell on this side of the fence, so it’s mine.”
The farmer just smiles a slow, wicked smile and says, “Well, around here, we don’t settle things with fancy arguments. We settle our property disputes ‘country style.”
The hunter frowns and asks, “How do you settle it country style?”
The farmer’s smile gets even wider. “I kick you in the groin as hard as I can, and then you kick me in the groin as hard as you can. We take turns until one of us gives up or can’t stand anymore. Whoever is left standing keeps the duck.”
The hunter thinks about it for a second. He’s a tough guy, he works out, and he figures he can take a good kick if it means winning the prize. He agrees.
The farmer backs up, takes a massive running start, and delivers a brutal steel-toed boot straight to the hunter’s groin. The hunter drops to his knees, gasping for air, turning purple, and rolling in the grass for five full minutes.
Finally, wheezing and tears streaming down his face, the hunter slowly pulls himself up and manages to stand on wobbly legs. He grits his teeth and says, “Alright… my turn!”
The farmer dusts off his overalls, checks his watch, and with a big smile, says, “Nah, you win. Take the duck.”
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