A big-city lawyer went duck hunting in rural North Wairarapa. He shot and dropped a bird, but it fell into a farmer’s field on the other side of the fence. As the lawyer climbed over the fence, an elderly farmer drove up on his tractor and asked him what he was doing. The litigator responded, “I shot a duck and it fell in this field, and now I’m going to retrieve it.”
The old farmer replied, “This is my property, and you are not coming over here.”
The indignant lawyer said, “I am one of the best attorneys in New Zealand, and if you don’t let me get that duck I will sue you.”
The old farmer smiled and said, “We settle disputes differently in North Wairarapa. Here we use the Three Kick Rule.”
The lawyer asked what that was and the farmer replied, “Well, because the dispute occurs on my land, I get to go first. I kick you three times and then you kick me three times, and so on until someone gives up.”
The attorney thought he could take the old codger, and agreed to abide by the local custom.
The old farmer slowly got down from his tractor and walked up to the attorney.
His first kick planted the toe of his steel-toed workboot into the lawyer’s groin, and dropped him to his knees. His second kick to the midriff sent the lawyer’s last meal gushing to the ground. The lawyer was on all fours when the third kick to his rear end sent him face-first into a fresh cow pie.
The lawyer summoned all his remaining strength and slowly got to his feet. Wiping his face with the arm of his jacket he said, “Okay, now it’s my turn.”
The old farmer smiled and said, “Nah, I give up. You can have the duck.”