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ing with my father when I was growing up. Presumably we were after dove. We mostly shot pigeons that flew out of the farmer’s barn. Once we jumped a covey of quail, but that’s another story.
I carried my first shotgun on those trips — it was a Harrington & Richardson single shot, break open 20 gauge (it’s called a Pardner Youth model now). That little gun was the perfect piece for a 15year-old greenhorn. It wasn’t until two years later I passed the Hunter’s Safety Course at the local Izaak Walton League.
That little scattergun forced me to take high percentage shots because I had no follow up. Dad toted a 12 gauge Browning A5 Belgianmade auto loader. This classic gun was later stolen, but had its share of good hunts.
I also remember the pasture on that farm we did not hunt because of a bull. I think the doves knew we wouldn’t venture there because that’s where we saw most of them, sitting on power lines. The bull was a solid black fellow. He would watch whenever my Dad and I approached his fence line. I even saw him paw and snort once. It was one of the first and only times my Dad looked afraid of something.
I hunt now with a 20 gauge Daly over and under given to me by my Grandfather many years ago. With a 26-inch barrel and modified/improved cylinder chokes, this thing swings fast
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