Shotguns: You says you have to shoot ‘em .

[sm]

A special lady reminded me of this – this one’s for her.

The air was crisp right at dawn, the slight breeze indicated by the frost of my breath. I chewed on a piece of jerky as I walked down the dirt road, nostrils getting a slight burn from the fresh air.

A Citori in 28 gauge, with two shells in the chamber, action open, accompanied me; the Combat Commander – yep as usual.

The squirrels were making a fuss, I couldn’t resist rubbing the two, two- bits with a hole in ‘em and held together by piece of rawhide. Yep a couple of bushy tails “just had†to see, and ran down a branch to view the lanky fellow with Citori …oops! Best scurry back to safety – they did. * Grin*

Now the turkey coming off roost was a sight to see, so I just stopped and knelt down, snagged another pc of Jerky and observed. Some things typed words don’t describe, you folks understand.

Time to get off the dirt road, well by now a path; Rubber soled LL Beans and I crossed the small stream into the field – The Ground Exploded in front of me and the Citori came to face reflexively …two, three…five quail took off, I picked the leading sliver of one, matched speed, angle of flight, found my lead and – whispered to myself – “bangâ€. *Grin*

I opened the Citori, leaving the shells in the chamber, not before I noted where the covey had lit. Yep – ‘bout where I figured they’d light. Now if head over about this angle toward the big tree over yonder…I should get about 60 steps before all hell breaks out again…43, 44…47, 48- Explode!!. These seven quail usually head over to the right…humm…I best see what is up. Oh I see, natural order of things seems as if bunny and hawk must have been introduced.

I continued my trek in a wide semi circle, flushing quail, gun to face and whispering “bang.†I had had a great morning.

Back at the vehicle I used the tin of Browning oil to wipe the exterior of the Citori with a bandana kept in the pocket of the cotton duck break down gun case, with the Citori stored away, I poured a cup of coffee from the Stanley Thermos.

I replaced the two unfired shells back into the box from whence they came, though I had never fired my Citori - I had "limited out" . Checking the time, yeah I would be allright.

“Top off your coffee Surgar? “Yes ma’am†I replied,†if it’s not too much trouble make that a double order of Southern Fried quail†I added.

“You daydreaming Sugar†the waitress asked as she placed the plates of Southern Fried quail, scratch biscuits and gravy and the 3 eggs over easy in front of me.

“Yes ma’am, just thinking about some special friends I visited earlier this morning, checking to see if they were allrightâ€. She added “ I hope your friends are gonna be okay with the weather turning colder, have all the supplies they need if that snow comes as talked abo later on this weekâ€.

“Ma’am, my friends are gonna be all right, they are prepared, have all they need.†*Wink*

 

[Dave McCracken]

Thanks for posting that. Some of our best hunts are judged by things other than the amount of protein accrued...

 

[Okiecruffler]

There's a game reserve that I used to spend quite a bit of time fishing at, got to know the warden there pretty well. He looked down right heartbroken the day he caught me walking thru a field with my SXS over my shoulder.
"John", he said "you know there ain't no seasons open."
"Yes sir, it's safer out here when there's no seasons open."
"Get on over here." He called. I could see him reaching for his little book of citations. We're friendly, but not friendly enough for him to overlook hunting out of season.
I got up to him and he was just shaking his head, like a father to an unruley child. "Open up that shotgun."
So I opened it up, and handed him the 2 blue hard plastic snap caps from the chambers.
"These the only shells you have?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes sir, unless you count the snubby in my truck."
"You are one of the craziest SOB's I've ever met!" We had already established this the time he found me tube fishing in mid October.
He looked over my 311, he has a Winchester 21 but doesn't get out often enough to shoot it. He didn't tell me how it was better than my 311 and I didn't tell him how he paid too much for his. Talk turned to past hunts, how we thought the fishing would be that year, and what a disappointment the current Whitehouse was. It was a good day. From that day on whenever he'd see me out there he would just wake and shake his head again.
I haven't taken a shot at a bird in over 12 years, but I still can't resist the call to walk the woods with a shotgun in the crook of the arm. The memories of past hunts with those who have moved on are so beautiful, how can anyone resist.