I dropped a goose in a diked estuary one day. Darn thing was coming right at me, straight and level, about shoulder height. It was self-defense, I tell ya. . .
Anyway, my springer launched into the river for his retrieve and met about 12# of pissed-off goose. I'd knocked it down but I was loaded for Teal and didn't address the problem with enough force. The goose sat on the dog and sank it. I couldn't shoot it off for fear of also getting the dog, so I shucked my hip waders and dove in to rescue it.
The goose was plenty for the dog and me, too -- in his element and used to surviving. I managed to knock it off of Snapper (short for Doggerel T. Schnauzer Deluxe), but it wasn't about to go away until it had punished me for shooting it. We went a round or two while Snapper made for the beach. I found some bottom to stand on finally, and dispatched the still-attacking bird with my .44.
Good tasting bird, but Snapper wouldn't ever bring me back another. He'd give me that "You're kidding, right?" look whenever I splashed one.