Joke

One Saturday, a duck hunter was on his way home from a long day of hunting. He'd just crossed over the Carlton Bridge when he was pulled over by a Game Warden. The Warden walks up to his car to find the hunter's window rolled down.

"Can I help ya Warden?" He says.

"Well yes you can." The Warden says. "I noticed when I passed you that you were wearin' huntin' attire, and it's my job to inspect any game that you might have. Have you been huntin' today? If you bagged anything, I'll need to see it."

"Well yes sir, I got three ducks today - they're in the trunk." The hunter replied.

The hunter gets out of his car and walks back to the trunk, which he gladly opens. The Game Warden sees three ducks - lined up neatly in the trunk. He picks up one of the ducks and holds it up to the light, looking it over. Then he begins sniffing the duck- like a hound on a scent. Then he takes a finger and rams it up the ducks butt- all the way to the third knuckle. He pulls his finger out and sniffs it. Then he points that finger at the hunter.

"You shot this duck in New Hampshire - I need to see a New Hampshire hunting license- right now." The Warden demanded.

The hunter, who's amazed by this Warden's keen sense of smell pulls out his wallet and fumbles through it for a moment, finally producing the license. The Game Warden looks it over for a second and hands it back to the hunter.

"How in the world did you know where I shot that duck?" The hunter asked, totally baffled by how accurate the Warden's sense of smell is.

"I've been a Game Warden for pretty nigh thirty-five years. You just get to know these things after awhile." The Warden replied.

He picked up the second duck and went through the same routine - first the sniffing - then the finger up the duck's butt. "You shot this one in Massachusetts din'cha? You sure do get around - now I need to see a Massachusetts license or you'll be in big trouble Chummy!" The Warden said, thinking he had him this time for sure.

The hunter, who by this time was totally in awe of this 'talent' that the Warden was displaying, reached for his wallet yet again - producing the requested license. "I can't believe it!" The hunter said, nearly falling on the ground in disbelief. "How did you know where I shot that duck?" "I told ya, it's many years of experience, I can tell by the smell." The Warden replied as he inspected the Massachusetts license. "So far, you're ok - but let's check out this last duck."

The Warden went through his routine yet again and put the final duck back into the trunk. At which time he turned to the hunter who was still aghast with disbelief. "All right," the Warden says, "you shot this one here in Maine, din'cha" He queried. "I'll need a Maine huntin' license right now - or you're gonna get written up." The flabbergasted hunter pulled out his wallet again, this time a little annoyed with the Warden, and produced his Maine hunting license.

The Warden looked it over carefully and handed it back to the hunter. "Well," the Warden says, "it looks as though everything's in order. You're free to go."

The Warden walks back to his truck - but just before he got in, he turns back to the hunter, who's still standing next to his car - not believing what had just happened. "Wait a minute!" The Warden hollered. "I know you've been huntin' all over New England today- but where in the hell are you from anyway?" The hunter turned around, bent over, dropped his trousers, spreading his cheeks for the Game Warden to see. "You're so friggin' smart- you tell me."