About 15 years ago I was teaching my new daughter in law about how to handle firearms in preparation to her beginning to learn about how to hunt the wily white tail. (deer, that is)
I had an Ithaca Featherweight in 16 guage that my father in law had set aside for the husband of this lass. (my son)
We went thru all the the usual about the use and handling of the firearm, safety procedures etc and spent time shooting it over a few days.
Comes the fatefull day in the field. Opening day. We had slunk into the woods before light and began to settle into the blind.
It was now time to load up and begin the all important stealthy napping that occurs before the monster buck tears noising thru the kill zone as you awaken with a start to see the tips of his horns and the white flag retreating into the woods.......but I get ahead of myself.
Lesa, (the lasses name) has the Ithaca in her dainty hands as she prepares to load said provider of provender. She is doing everything properly, pointing the firearm down and way from anyone as she begins to load, even talking quietly to herself as she runs through the procedures that I had instructed her on. I began to listen to her proudly, as she walked thru the process....then heard her say as she loaded the Breneke's into the tube feed....brass is last, brass is last......brass is last....
