I was emailed photos today of one of my grandsons with his first two grouse. He was holding an old H&R single shot .410, initially purchased by my grandfather, and used through the ensuing years by many family members of 4 generations when they began hunting. Seeing the photos brought back vivid memories of my first grouse, and first duck ... with that same .410.
The grouse was a truly patient and accomodating ruffy, who met his end some 56 or 57 years ago on a cool foggy morning just before sunrise, on a backroad in rural Alberta. The duck was a most unfortunate gadwal, which fell to a .410 load of #6s as it made its second pass around the shores of a small pothole one chilly autumn morning, just a few miles east of Edmonton.
Not sure who was more surprised, the kid or the duck. The duck did not in fact realize immediately that he had been killed, and his set wings carried him some 50 to 75 yards across a plowed field before he crumpled and fell to the ground.
Those were the days when a hunt planned for the next morning meant a sleepless night of tossing and turning in anticipation of the coming day's excitement. Even though the nights were short, there was no need for an alarm to get me out of bed come 3 or 4 a.m.
Ain't grand kids great!
Thanks to that young lad I've had several wonderful hours today reliving some of my most cherished outdoor experiences from my own youth.
The grouse was a truly patient and accomodating ruffy, who met his end some 56 or 57 years ago on a cool foggy morning just before sunrise, on a backroad in rural Alberta. The duck was a most unfortunate gadwal, which fell to a .410 load of #6s as it made its second pass around the shores of a small pothole one chilly autumn morning, just a few miles east of Edmonton.
Not sure who was more surprised, the kid or the duck. The duck did not in fact realize immediately that he had been killed, and his set wings carried him some 50 to 75 yards across a plowed field before he crumpled and fell to the ground.
Those were the days when a hunt planned for the next morning meant a sleepless night of tossing and turning in anticipation of the coming day's excitement. Even though the nights were short, there was no need for an alarm to get me out of bed come 3 or 4 a.m.
Ain't grand kids great!
Thanks to that young lad I've had several wonderful hours today reliving some of my most cherished outdoor experiences from my own youth.
