A big city lawyer went duck hunting in rural North Alberta. He shot and dropped a bird, but it fell into a farmer's field on the other side of a fence. As the lawyer climbed over the fence, an elderly farmer drove up on his tractor and asked him what he was doing. The litigator responded, "I shot a duck and it fell in this field, and now I'm going to retrieve it." The old farmer Peter replied, "This is my property, and you are not coming over here." The indignant lawyer said, "I am one of the best trial lawyers in Canada and, if you don't let me get that duck, I'll sue you and take everything you own." The old farmer smiled and said, "Apparently, you don't know how we settle disputes in Alberta. We settle small disagreements like this with the 'Three Kick Rule.' The lawyer asked, "What is the 'Three Kick Rule'?" The Farmer replied, "Well, because the dispute occurs on my land, I get to go first. I kick you three times and then you kick me three times and so on back and forth until someone gives up." The lawyer quickly thought about the proposed contest and decided that he could easily take the old codger. He agreed to abide by the local custom. The old farmer slowly climbed down from the tractor and walked up to the attorney. His first kick planted the toe of his heavy steel-toed work boot into the lawyer's groin and dropped him to his knees! His second kick to the midriff sent the lawyer's last meal gushing from his mouth. The lawyer was on all fours when the farmer's third kick to his rear end, sent him face-first into a fresh cow pie. Summoning every bit of his will and remaining strength the lawyer very slowly managed to get to his feet. Wiping his face with the arm of his jacket, he said, "Okay, you old fart. Now it's my turn." The old farmer smiled and said, "Nah, I give up. You can have the duck."
A hunter goes into the woods to hunt a bear. He carries his trusty 22-gauge rifle with him. After a while, he spots a very large bear, takes aim, and fires. When the smoke clears, the bear is gone. A moment later, the bear taps the hunter on the shoulder and says, “No one shoots at me and gets away with it. You have two choices: I can rip your throat out and eat you, or you can drop your trousers, bend over, and I’ll [insert appropriate colloquialism for sodomy here].” The hunter decides that anything is better than death, so he drops his trousers and bends over; and the bear does what he said he would do. After the bear has left, the hunter pulls up his trousers and staggers back into town. He’s pretty mad. He buys a much larger gun and returns to the forest. He sees the same bear, aims, and fires. When the smoke clears, the bear is gone. A moment later the bear taps the hunter on the shoulder and says, “You know what to do.” Afterward, the hunter pulls up his trousers, crawls back into town, and buys a bazooka. Now he’s really mad. He returns to the forest, sees the bear, aims, and fires. The force of the bazooka blast knocks him flat on his back. When the smoke clears, the bear is standing over him and says, “You’re not doing this for the hunting, are you?”
Two hunters from Moscow charter a small plane to fly them to Siberia to go bear hunting. On landing, the pilot says, "Remember, this plane can only fly with two hunters, one pilot, and ONE bear." The hunters go out and return with two bears. So the pilot says, "I told you ONE bear!" But the hunters point out that the previous year, on payment of an extra 100 rubles, the pilot had let them put two bears on board. After long discussion centering on the impossibility of the thing and the disgraceful degree of inflation, the pilot takes 200 rubles and with much pushing and shoving the hunters get aboard with the two bears. After struggling into the air and fitfully flying for about two hours, the plane gives up and plummets to the earth in a snowbank. Climbing out from under the snow and the bears, the hunters ask the pilot where he thinks they are. The pilot says, "About the same place where we crashed last year."
Going to war without the French is like going hunting without your accordion.
In the middle of a forest, there was a hunter who was suddenly confronted by a huge, mean bear. In his fear, all attempts to shoot the bear were unsuccessful. Finally, he turned and ran as fast as he could. The hunter ran and ran and ran, until he ended up at the edge of a very steep cliff. His hopes were dim. Seeing no way out of his predicament, and with the bear closing in rather quickly, the hunter got down on his knees, opened his arms, and exclaimed, "Dear God! Please give this bear some religion!" The skies darkened and there was lightning in the air. Just a few feet short of the hunter, the bear came to an abrupt stop, and glanced around, somewhat confused. Suddenly, the bear looked up into the sky and said, "Thank you, God, for the food I'm about to receive..."
A hunter visited another hunter and was given a tour of his home. In the den was a stuffed lion. The visiting hunter asked, “When did you bag him?” The host said proudly, “That was three years ago, when I went hunting with my ex-wife.” “What’s he stuffed with,” asked the visiting hunter. “My ex-wife” replied the hunter.
A hunter was out with his dog Old Faithful when he sees a duck and shoots it down. Old Faithful runs and brings his back the duck. As the hunter reaches for the duck a forest ranger comes by snatches the duck out of Old Faithfuls mouth puts his finger in its ass pulls it out smells his finger and says "This here is a Wisconsin duck, do you have a license to shoot Wisconsin ducks?" The hunter reaches into his wallet and pulls out a license for a Wisconsin duck. The officer says "thank you, sir, have a great day and leaves." The hunter then proceeds with Old Faithful when he sees another duck, takes as I'm and shoots it down. Old Faithful runs grab the duck and come back. The hunters about to grab the duck when the same forest ranger comes back, grabs the duck out of the dog's mouth take his finger puts it up the ducks ass, pulls it out smells his finger and says "This is an Ohio duck, have you got a license to shoot Ohio ducks, sir?" The hunter reaches into his wallet and pulls out a license for an Ohio duck. The officer looks at him and says, "I'm sorry sir, just doing my job, have a nice day," and leaves. Well, this kept happening over and over. Every time the hunter shot a duck and Old Faithful would bring it back, the Same forest ranger would be there to question the hunter if he had a license for all the different ducks he shot, and in his bewilderment seeing the hunter having all these different licenses for each duck. Well on the last duck the hunter shot and Old Faithful bringing it back, the Same forest ranger comes and triumphantly snatches the duck out of the dogs mouth, takes his finger puts it up the ducks ass, smells it and says "This here is a Canadian duck, have you got a license to shoot Canadian duck?" Exasperated, the hunter reaches into his wallet and pulls out a license for a Canadian duck. The forest ranger looks at the hunter and says, "you know sir, you've had a license for every duck you shot, tell me, where are You from?" The hunter turns around, drops his pants, bends over and says, "You tell me! You're the Expert!"
Deer Hunter. A sportsman, and father of 3 sons, was anxious to share his latest kill with his family for Sunday dinner. He didn't want his sons to refuse tasting the delicious venison, so he sat the boys down to dinner without telling them what the meat was they were about to eat. "Oh come on Dad," said the oldest son. "What is this meat?" "Just taste it," said the father, "You will love it." The boys eyed each other nervously and put a piece of the meat on their forks. "Give us a little hint.", pleaded the second son. "Only if you take a bite.", said the father. As each boy took a cautious bite of the venison, the father continued, "Let me think, your mother calls me this from time to time." The oldest boy shouted, "Spit it out boys, it's asshole!"
On the way home from a hunt, a hunter stops by the grocery store. "Give me a couple of steaks," he says. "We're out of steaks but we have hot dogs and chicken," says the butcher. "Hotdogs and chicken?!" yells the hunter. "How can I tell my wife I bagged a couple of hotdogs and chickens?"
A deer hunter asked his Pastor if it was a sin to hunt on Sunday. "From what I hear about your aim," said the Pastor, "It's a sin for you to hunt anytime."