Dave McCracken
September 14, 2007, 07:45 PM
There's a hunger that some of us feel stronger this time of year. An addiction that needs some feeding, requiring servings of fresh air, game and loud noises like shotguns make. It's a renewal, a return to our oldest activity, a healing place we need like we need oxygen.
The dove opener came and went without me. Around here, a spot in a good field costs $150 up. Right now, that's not possible. I could hit some squirrel woods, but the newest litter needs a little time to grow, and time for the parasites like warbles to die off. That will keep for later.
Today was cool and wet for MD in early September,a harbringer of Autumn, a promise of things long awaited.
I sublimated and went to PGC, where shooting clays will make up for not making food the old fashioned way.
The Geezers weren't shooting today. Only two showed up, one of us is in the Dakotas gleefully pursuing ringnecks. Others are in dove fields and goose blinds. One who did show up can't shoot yet, he's recovering from a MI and 6 way bypass surgery. He just came for the company.
We talked, of things from gunfights to salt water fly rods, and enjoyed the interplay. A century or two of accumulated experience between us, and some scars.
Then, after one of us left to see family coming in from out of town, I moved down to Range 7 and the Wobble trap. The Geezer who can't shoot yet came for moral support and coaching, if needed.
It wasn't needed.
FLASHBACK...
Pop and the adolescent that was me were flanking a gully in a field. In the gully was a mess of greenbriar and blackberry vines, two German Shorthairs and an undetermined number of game birds. The quail flushed first, a covey of maybe 12. The Ringneck rooster came after our guns were emptied, but Pop dropped a shell into his old O/U, closed it as he mounted and dropped that rooster deader than my hope of just, enlightened and fair government.
I gave credit as it was due. I also mentioned my lackluster performance, having shot only air. Pop grinned as two Shorthairs presented his birds.
"Don't worry, Tiger, you'll get it eventually. Just keep at it".
So, I've kept at it. And today went well.
My first exercise was the usual. A few shots from the usual posts,then moving the mikes and not repeating the moves made before. New angles and distance each time. Two shots in the gun, full use and chasing big pieces when I could.
The first two rounds went well. My shots centered the clays. The few misses, I knew what was wrong before I saw the clay sail on intact.
Then, my friend had to leave. As the trapper went to load the launcher up, I asked,"Paul, how about giving that spring a turn or two?". He did, and the view bird zipped along crisply.
I dropped two boxes of Gun Clubs in my pouch, moved the Post 5 mike back and right as much as I could and danced with my shotgun. After a few shots I'd move and then dance some more.
The ranges and angles meant a fair amount of lead, but I didn't try to figure it out. I just shot. The clays busted and busted and busted some more. I was In The Zone.
Sure, my flinches and glitches cost me a couple birds, but any time I shoot over 95% at long distances at fast birds, I figure I'm doing just fine, thank you.
And then I remembered that day at the gully. With just a few shells left in my pouch, I dropped one in as I called Pull, closing the gun and mounting in one smooth move.
Little pieces of that clay fell to the ground 50 yards away just as dead as that pheasant back in Nineteen Sixty-Something.
I finished up the round and stood there, enjoying the moment. I bowed my head and said...
"Thanks, God, for this moment. And Pop, thanks to you too. It took a while, but I finally got it"....
The dove opener came and went without me. Around here, a spot in a good field costs $150 up. Right now, that's not possible. I could hit some squirrel woods, but the newest litter needs a little time to grow, and time for the parasites like warbles to die off. That will keep for later.
Today was cool and wet for MD in early September,a harbringer of Autumn, a promise of things long awaited.
I sublimated and went to PGC, where shooting clays will make up for not making food the old fashioned way.
The Geezers weren't shooting today. Only two showed up, one of us is in the Dakotas gleefully pursuing ringnecks. Others are in dove fields and goose blinds. One who did show up can't shoot yet, he's recovering from a MI and 6 way bypass surgery. He just came for the company.
We talked, of things from gunfights to salt water fly rods, and enjoyed the interplay. A century or two of accumulated experience between us, and some scars.
Then, after one of us left to see family coming in from out of town, I moved down to Range 7 and the Wobble trap. The Geezer who can't shoot yet came for moral support and coaching, if needed.
It wasn't needed.
FLASHBACK...
Pop and the adolescent that was me were flanking a gully in a field. In the gully was a mess of greenbriar and blackberry vines, two German Shorthairs and an undetermined number of game birds. The quail flushed first, a covey of maybe 12. The Ringneck rooster came after our guns were emptied, but Pop dropped a shell into his old O/U, closed it as he mounted and dropped that rooster deader than my hope of just, enlightened and fair government.
I gave credit as it was due. I also mentioned my lackluster performance, having shot only air. Pop grinned as two Shorthairs presented his birds.
"Don't worry, Tiger, you'll get it eventually. Just keep at it".
So, I've kept at it. And today went well.
My first exercise was the usual. A few shots from the usual posts,then moving the mikes and not repeating the moves made before. New angles and distance each time. Two shots in the gun, full use and chasing big pieces when I could.
The first two rounds went well. My shots centered the clays. The few misses, I knew what was wrong before I saw the clay sail on intact.
Then, my friend had to leave. As the trapper went to load the launcher up, I asked,"Paul, how about giving that spring a turn or two?". He did, and the view bird zipped along crisply.
I dropped two boxes of Gun Clubs in my pouch, moved the Post 5 mike back and right as much as I could and danced with my shotgun. After a few shots I'd move and then dance some more.
The ranges and angles meant a fair amount of lead, but I didn't try to figure it out. I just shot. The clays busted and busted and busted some more. I was In The Zone.
Sure, my flinches and glitches cost me a couple birds, but any time I shoot over 95% at long distances at fast birds, I figure I'm doing just fine, thank you.
And then I remembered that day at the gully. With just a few shells left in my pouch, I dropped one in as I called Pull, closing the gun and mounting in one smooth move.
Little pieces of that clay fell to the ground 50 yards away just as dead as that pheasant back in Nineteen Sixty-Something.
I finished up the round and stood there, enjoying the moment. I bowed my head and said...
"Thanks, God, for this moment. And Pop, thanks to you too. It took a while, but I finally got it"....