Every Sunday afternoon everyone in the neighborhood would meet at the nearby cross roads and country store to compare their weekend catches. Everyone had normal size fish except this one old farmer who had always brought in huge fish.
The game warden heard about this and showed up one Sunday afternoon. After inspecting the old farmers fish, he turned to the farmer and said “If you don’t show me your fishing spot , I’m going to have to close you down.”
The farmer replied by telling him to come out to the farm in the morning and he would take him fishing.
The next morning the game warden shows up with his pole and the farmer tells him to climb onto the tractor. They head out into this big field until they come to a little pond.
The warden is scratching his head because all he sees is a rotten old skiff, when he expected a large lake and something closer to a yacht.
The farmer said to get in and they start rowing out to the middle. About this time the warden notices that there are no fishing poles.
As he is about to say something, the farmer reaches into a box and pulls out a stick of dynamite, lights it and throws it into the pond.
After the water and smoke settle, he paddles around picking up the fish.
The warden’s jaw is on the deck. He can’t talk for a minute. When he finds his voice, he starts in on the farmer about how he can’t believe what just happened and starts screaming to the farmer about all the regulations he has broken.
While this is taking place the farmer calmly reaches into the box grabs another stick of dynamite, lights it, hands it to the warden and asks him if he is going to fish or talk.
