A duck hunter is out one day having no luck. He hunts the whole morning and couldn't get a single kill. On the way home he comes up to a farm house and flying over the barnyard is a big flock of fat mallards.
Seeing his last chance for success, he takes aim at what looked like the biggest duck in the flock and gave it both barrels. The duck fell from the sky and landed in the middle of a barnyard.
As the hunter nears the barnyard and the dead duck, he sees he's got himself a beauty. But when he is a mere 20 paces from the duck, a farmer steps out of the barn, picks up the duck and heads for the house.
"Hey!" said the hunter, "Come back with my duck!"
"Your duck?" says the farmer, "It was lying dead in my barnyard; it's MY duck."
"No! No! You don't understand!, shouts the hunter, "I shot it and it just happened to fall here. It's mine!"
"Okay, city fella. We'll settle this the country way," says the farmer.
"Country way? What's that?" says the hunter.
"We take turns hitting each other as hard as we can," says the farmer. "Last man standing wins the duck.... That is, unless you're Yella."
"Of course I'm not yellow," says the hunter.
"Fine. Country way it is," says the farmer. "Since we're on my property, I'll go first."
With that, the farmer takes a half step back, steadies himself, and kicks the hunter square in the groin as hard as he can. The hunter gasps, screams like an animal, falls on the ground, curls up in a knot, turns 3 shades of purple, and nearly pass out.
After a full half hour and with considerable difficulty, the hunter straightens up, gasps again, and in a high strained voice says, "Now... my... turn!
The farmer reply: "Nah, I give up. Here's your duck."