Digit wrote:Yep Min. Mankind had to wait a few thousand more years before someone came who could walk on water!
There was, some years back, an enthusiastic duck hunter who lived on Cape Cod, Mass.. One of his neighbors was famous for his bloodline of retrievers, and after suffering through the waiting list for pups bred of these retrievers, our duck hunter finally got his pup. This in October, hunting season, but of course the pup was too young to hunt.
Our duck hunter spent the rest of the next year training the pup up, and the dog is a stone natural.
Finally, opening day comes, and hunter and yearling retriever head out to the marshes. A flight of Canvasbacks comes in to the decoy spread, and, bam/bam - our hunter uses the same double-barreled shotgun given to him on his 13th birthday by his Dad - he drops a double. The pup is out of the duckboat and into the water in a trice.
But no splash! No following the head of the pup cutting through the water. as he swims to the downed Canvasback. The damn dog is simply running across the water, then picks duck up, returns to boat, delivers duck to hunters hand, and then repeats the process with the second bird.
Our duck hunter picks up his bottle of moonshine whiskey,
Gives it a long and careful look,
Then gently sets it down again.
This scene repeats itself throughout the morning until our hunter has his limit.
He drives home in a pensive mood.
The next day he called the Methodist reverend, a neighbor, and also great duck hunter, and invited him to hunt with him the following Saturday. The Rev of course agreed.
Saturday comes, and our hunter and the Rev unload the duckboat, set out the decoys, slide the duckboat back into the reeds, and wait.
The first flight - this time Pintails - comes in, and our hunter gave the Rev the courtesy of the first shots. The rev drops a single, and the pup does a repeat of the previous trip, running across the water.
Rev just takes the duck from the dog's mouth and doesn't say a word.
This continues until both men have filled their limits.
They load everything back up into the truck and start driving home. Our hunter can't stand it anymore, and says "Well, Rev, what do you think of my dog?"
The Rev replies, "Its too bad, 'cause the pup comes from such a good bloodline, and I know you've put a lot of work into him, but I think you should just take that poor thing out and shoot him. Put him out of his misery."
Astonished, our hunter cries out "But
why, Rev?
The Rev replies "Its obvious that that dog is a retriever who can't swim."
john
"Man is a marvellous curiosity. When he is at his very, very best he is sort of a low-grade nickel-plated angel; at his worst he is unspeakable, unimaginable; and first and last and all the time he is a sarcasm."
Mark Twain