Uptonongood
Senior Member
The Lawyer and the Game Warden
Maybe twenty years ago I was part of a duck hunt that still brings laughter to the three participants. The setting was a small hunting lease on a creek in western Washington State. It was late in the season, snow was on the ground and a warming trend had thawed the flooded shallow pools adjacent to the creek. The migration was in full blossom and ducks were looking for open water and just diving in.
The blind we were hunting in was really unique, set back slightly in the wooded area and actually about twelve feet up in the trees. It was hidden enough that late season birds didn’t get “blind shy”. It was great fun actually shooting down at birds circling into the dekes.
We had been hunting for a couple of hours, the birds had started to move and our shooting was picking up. My Lab, Grits, couldn’t climb the ladder into the blind so she was set in a four foot long plastic sled directly under the blind. When birds dropped from our shooting, I’d voice release to Grits who was off like a shot on her retrieve. She had clear views across the pools and was dead on target for birds falling in her field of vision. I would descend the ladder and cast her for other downed birds on blind retrieves.
We’d taken about half of our limit when I climbed down again to assist Grits. When I stepped into the open, I sent the dog on a blind retrieve. I happened to glance to my right and noticed two men standing on the wood’s edge about 100 yards away. I could tell from their coats and chest waders that they were game wardens. I waved my arm at them and motioned for them to come down to us. I then informed my two buddies in the tree blind that we had a game warden coming to visit. We hunt legal so we had no worries, or so I thought.
The game warden identified himself. He was a sergeant, pleasant but professional. He checked my auto-loading shotgun for a plug and legal shot shells while my buddies were climbing down out of the blind.
While the sergeant and I were chatting and waiting for them to join us, a hen mallard dropped right into the decoys, maybe 15 yards away, us standing in the open!
I had reloaded and stood there, that duck close enough to hit with a long pole. I turned and looked at the game warden who cocked his head at the duck while looking at me. I said, “Naw, It’s a hen, we just shoot drakes.” She took off, unmolested. The warden smiled, chuckled, shook his head.
About that time my two buddies joined us.
This is when the fun started.
The game warden asked us for our licenses and duck stamps. I dug mine out and handed it to him. No problem. My first buddy looked sheepish and said “Mine’s in the truck up on the road.” The warden put his head down, went over the legal part that says, “on your person.” He then strongly instructed my buddy to double time up, get it and bring it right back. Things continued to spiral downward from there.
My second buddy pulled his license out of his coat pocket and handed it to the warden. The warden started going over his licenses and attached tags, etc. After a few minutes he said, “I don’t see the State Water Fowl Permit. You’ve got just about every license we issue but I don’t see your state duck stamp.”
My buddy blanched, his face almost ashen. He started stammering that he knows he purchased that darn state stamp, it had to be there! I see my opportunity and I inject, gleefully, “Officer, does it matter that he’s a lawyer?” (Never miss an opportunity to screw with your buddy no matter what the consequences!)
That game warden looked sternly at him, took down his contact information, looked through his license once more and said, “I don’t have cell service here. When I get back to the office I’ll see if perhaps you did purchase the stamp and they didn’t give to you.” Nice guy, but here’s the best part.
As the warden was turning to leave I piped up and said, “Officer, the season closes in two days, this is our last hunt for the year. Can the lawyer keep on hunting with us this morning?”
That sergeant looked at me, a little surprised with that question, laughed, nodded his head and said, “Yeah, go ahead.”
And we did, finished with our limits of 21 ducks within a couple of hours. The sergeant called my lawyer friend a few days later and said there was no record of him purchasing the state duck stamp, but he was convinced that he truly thought he had. And he didn’t write him a ticket either, just cautioned him to be sure he had it next year. If that warden had issues with lawyers, he didn’t show it.
What more can be said? A great hunt with great friends, a great dog and a really great game warden. (Photos: Grits bringing back a big sprig and a photo of our late season decoy spread at the Tree Blind)
Maybe twenty years ago I was part of a duck hunt that still brings laughter to the three participants. The setting was a small hunting lease on a creek in western Washington State. It was late in the season, snow was on the ground and a warming trend had thawed the flooded shallow pools adjacent to the creek. The migration was in full blossom and ducks were looking for open water and just diving in.
The blind we were hunting in was really unique, set back slightly in the wooded area and actually about twelve feet up in the trees. It was hidden enough that late season birds didn’t get “blind shy”. It was great fun actually shooting down at birds circling into the dekes.
We had been hunting for a couple of hours, the birds had started to move and our shooting was picking up. My Lab, Grits, couldn’t climb the ladder into the blind so she was set in a four foot long plastic sled directly under the blind. When birds dropped from our shooting, I’d voice release to Grits who was off like a shot on her retrieve. She had clear views across the pools and was dead on target for birds falling in her field of vision. I would descend the ladder and cast her for other downed birds on blind retrieves.
We’d taken about half of our limit when I climbed down again to assist Grits. When I stepped into the open, I sent the dog on a blind retrieve. I happened to glance to my right and noticed two men standing on the wood’s edge about 100 yards away. I could tell from their coats and chest waders that they were game wardens. I waved my arm at them and motioned for them to come down to us. I then informed my two buddies in the tree blind that we had a game warden coming to visit. We hunt legal so we had no worries, or so I thought.
The game warden identified himself. He was a sergeant, pleasant but professional. He checked my auto-loading shotgun for a plug and legal shot shells while my buddies were climbing down out of the blind.
While the sergeant and I were chatting and waiting for them to join us, a hen mallard dropped right into the decoys, maybe 15 yards away, us standing in the open!
I had reloaded and stood there, that duck close enough to hit with a long pole. I turned and looked at the game warden who cocked his head at the duck while looking at me. I said, “Naw, It’s a hen, we just shoot drakes.” She took off, unmolested. The warden smiled, chuckled, shook his head.
About that time my two buddies joined us.
This is when the fun started.
The game warden asked us for our licenses and duck stamps. I dug mine out and handed it to him. No problem. My first buddy looked sheepish and said “Mine’s in the truck up on the road.” The warden put his head down, went over the legal part that says, “on your person.” He then strongly instructed my buddy to double time up, get it and bring it right back. Things continued to spiral downward from there.
My second buddy pulled his license out of his coat pocket and handed it to the warden. The warden started going over his licenses and attached tags, etc. After a few minutes he said, “I don’t see the State Water Fowl Permit. You’ve got just about every license we issue but I don’t see your state duck stamp.”
My buddy blanched, his face almost ashen. He started stammering that he knows he purchased that darn state stamp, it had to be there! I see my opportunity and I inject, gleefully, “Officer, does it matter that he’s a lawyer?” (Never miss an opportunity to screw with your buddy no matter what the consequences!)
That game warden looked sternly at him, took down his contact information, looked through his license once more and said, “I don’t have cell service here. When I get back to the office I’ll see if perhaps you did purchase the stamp and they didn’t give to you.” Nice guy, but here’s the best part.
As the warden was turning to leave I piped up and said, “Officer, the season closes in two days, this is our last hunt for the year. Can the lawyer keep on hunting with us this morning?”
That sergeant looked at me, a little surprised with that question, laughed, nodded his head and said, “Yeah, go ahead.”
And we did, finished with our limits of 21 ducks within a couple of hours. The sergeant called my lawyer friend a few days later and said there was no record of him purchasing the state duck stamp, but he was convinced that he truly thought he had. And he didn’t write him a ticket either, just cautioned him to be sure he had it next year. If that warden had issues with lawyers, he didn’t show it.
What more can be said? A great hunt with great friends, a great dog and a really great game warden. (Photos: Grits bringing back a big sprig and a photo of our late season decoy spread at the Tree Blind)
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