Bird Dog Tall Tales

Two country wits swap tall tales about their favorite retriever's duck hunting skills.


| November/December 1989



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Ol' Dan scared ducks so much they flew out of the pond and into the sack and started plucking their own feathers. 


ILLUSTRATION: ELWOOD H. SMITH

Well sir, any bird hunter worth gunpowder knows that a good retriever's worth more than a good shotgun: It don't do good to shoot something if you can't bring it home.

This truth came to mind the other day when the Plumtree Crossing General Assembly gathered at that hotbed of tranquillity, the front porch of Pennywhistle's General Store. The fellas were just swinging their rockers and enjoying the amber days of fall, when Doc Thromberg asked, "Where's Billy Parsons? Didn't Ott and Newt take him duck hunting yesterday?"

The respective Misters Bartlett and Blanchard grinned so suspiciously that the fellas swiped the pipes from their mouths and made 'em talk.

"Yep, it's true," Ott said. "We decided to introduce young Billy to the fine art of wing shooting. So before bust of day—"

"—when it was so cold (Newt broke in) the mercury was hanging three clapboards below the bulb—"

"—we woke Billy up," Ott continued,





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