In the late '90s I was duck hunting with a group of guys. We had a banner day and killed 41 ducks: mallard hens/drakes, gads, bluebills, the works. Everyone met back at the truck and threw all the ducks into a pile, stood around catching up, etc.

Game warden pulls up. How y'all doing, looks like a good morning. No, don't need to see licenses or such. And then this:

"Who's ducks are these?"

We stood there looking around like "Duh, ours you dingdong." Someone finally said, "Ours" and everyone kinda laughed.

"No, which ones in this pile are yours," and he pointed to one of us. "Which ones are yours, and yours, and yours?"

He was firm but informative, letting us know that because they weren't separated he had know knowledge of whether someone shot 18 or two, or 10 mallard hens or none, and although the big pile looked cool for photos and such that it wasn't a good idea.

Instead of citations, which he could have written, that education lesson still lingers and always will. He didn't shirk his duty, IMO. He made the best lasting impact in that situation.