I recall a joke, but not well enough to retell it fully about a guy duck hunting. He kept encountering the GW and would insert a couple of fingers up the duck’s butt to identify it. Finally the GW asks where he’s from or something like that and the guy responds, “Would you care to do one of these” while holding up two fingers. Ok, I doubt I was in my double digit years when I heard it.Game wardens seem to come from everywhere during duck hunting. Duck regulations are harsh. It’s almost impossible to identify species at 70 miles per hour in dim skies, and flapping wings. If I accidentally shoot a black duck instead of a female mallard or a pintail female you can bet it gets thrown in the sawgrass for scavengers. Not taking any chance with federal rules.
A lot of truth to this. I had a conversation with the criminal atty at a particular four name firm in High Point regarding having a number and name to call if I should ever be forced to use a gun in self defense. He gave me his (non office) info and said keep it in your phone. If you’re out of Guilford county, you will need someone local that goes to the cocktail parties and rubs elbows with the judges but I will still be able to get things started and get you help.Me also. My attorney neighbor has a plaque on his desk: Good attorneys do great things. Great attorneys know the judges.
Such a testament to the legal system.
Anyway, my one non encounter with the bunny police, it was my birthday, Labor Day Monday and I went out on this long artificial break wall of large concrete blocks on Lake Erie that were at all odd angles to go fishing with my parents. I had to take a leak and the porta Johns were a 30 minute walk away, so I climbed down in some of the blocks. While peeing, I had an odd feeling I was being watched. I climbed out and the GW was talking to my parents. He asked for their fishing licenses and they produced them. He didn’t say a word to me. Turns out, the feeling I had was him standing up on the rocks watching me take a piss.