doublegunshop.com - home Forums General Discussion DoubleGun BBS @ doublegunshop.com Great Misses I Have Made

I was just 16 or 17 years old. I worked all summer and saved up enough money to buy an Ithaca Model 37, 20 gauge pump with a solid rib. The first time I went hunting, I want over to a farm that was never worked, near my house. After I had been hunting for a while, I finally kicked up a rabbit and I took a shot at him. And I missed. The rabbit ran down the fence line and it wasn't long after that I heard another shot from a shotgun. I noticed two guys who were hunting also, so I walked down to where they were. One of them held up that rabbit and said, "Here ya go!! Here's your rabbit!" I thought he was joking. I just looked at him- kinda puzzled, I guess. He said, "No!! Take it!" "It was your rabbit. You kicked it out for us." I refused to take it a couple times and finally they insisted, so I reluctantly said okay. "Thanks". I walked home with a rabbit that I skinned and my mom cooked for me. That was my first hunting experience. I never knew those two guys and I never ran into them again. I don't remember most of the many squirrels and rabbits I got with that gun. Many- over the years and I still have that gun. And I never forgot those two fellas and how they made me feel on my first hunting experience.

I use to load the Springers up and head to Kansas most weekends when I live in Trinidad going to gunsmithing school. I often stayed in the town of Larned, right in the middle of prime rooster country with some quail occasionally as well. I would head out Friday after my morning class and drive home sometime Sunday. We had a pretty good storm one Saturday evening and I woke to 4-5 inches of fresh snow and a bitter North wind. I loaded the dogs up, gassed the truck and hit a public field not far from the motel. I grabbed my double and my boy Briar and went out to find out just how miserable it was. I wear glasses when I hunt and the lenses did nothing to slow that wind down. We had not gone a 100 yards and my eyes were tearing up, Briar put two big roosters up not 10 yards out and I proceeded to miss them both. We had not gone much more than another 50 yards and the same thing happened, 2 roosters flushed, I missed both. I took that as a sign from the universe that it was too damn cold to be out hunting. No birds that morning but it is all part of the game.

We had a local ricefield leased for ducks back in the late 1970s when ducks were abundant here. Part of the field in a corner had been overtaken by a stand of pin oaks which featured a hole in the middle for ducks to easily see a spread of blocks. Jerry, Wyck and I had the hole covered when I saw a flight of mallards and spun them around to us with a high-ball call. They started circling, craning necks to see where the ducks were. We were sloshing the water with our waders while we stood next to trees, rocking the decoys. After three passes, circling, here they came, wings cupped, dropping down into the trees. “Take’em”. 9 shots and not a feather touched.
It was year one taking now 13 year old Abby into a woodcock woods—first time. She came to a sudden halt, stub of tail shot up and not a muscle moved. On the tip of her nose, about a foot away, was a woodcock. Easy shot when it flushed. Two shots from my 20 ga. Beretta 686, and not a feather cut. Minutes later, a hundred yards away, Abby locked down on an open area, not a tree, bush, twig or anything in sight. Gun over my shoulder, broken open, I walked towards her to get her to move. The woodcock launched into a towering getaway with my gun broken, over my shoulder. I’d like to say lesson, learned, but…. Gil

It was about 1995 and turkey hunting was just getting started in Canada. My brother, and regular hunting partner, called me up and said "get back here....Manitoba is going to have a spring turkey hunt....we don't have to wait until fall". I was living in Toronto at the time, made the necessary flight arrangements and flew in the day before the season opened. This was pre internet, no one we had ever met hunted turkeys but we heard it was fun. My brother had bought a box call and we went straight from the airport to our favoured hunting grounds 2 hours south west of Winnipeg where we had heard there were turkey. We had absolutely no idea what we were doing.

We had never even heard a turkey gobble in the wild but we knew they roosted in trees and you needed to get in there before dawn and wait for them to fly down and then call them over. That evening we picked out what we thought was a good tree to sit beside and went to bed. Dawn finds us set up with our backs to this big old tree waiting and listening for turkey. Sure enough, this incredible gobble shatters the early morning. Botb of us are startled but we can't figure out the direction.......South of our set up? East? The big tom gobbled again and we still couldn't get a fix on direction. By this time the sun hadn't quite risen but we could see quite clearly. There was another very loud gobble and Charles and I still could not get a handle on the direction. Very confusing. Then, from literally 15 feet directly above us, about 10 turkey flew down and away from us and trotted off into the woods. Both of us were so stunned neither thought about the gun we each held.

We each ended up getting a bird that day although it took some doing after that initial disaster. Opening day of Manitoba's first turkey season. We like to think that despite our ignorance of the fine points of turkey hunting, our natural hunting abilities won out. My guess is that you could count on one hand how many hunters in Manitoba got a bird that day. That kinda made up for the start to the day.

Great stories! Keep 'em coming.

This as good as fresh, hot blackberry cobbler.

Well, I never miss! The dog screws it up, the gun is awkward, the sun is in my eyes , the damn bird makes an unwarranted move, daaaang! But here's my contribution;
Just this last season in fact.

Just watched my lovely mutt Emma pin a grouse. She is literally vibrating as I trudge the best part of 100 yds. through the most trying of cover, ( a logging road)! As I approach the area, fully expecting said grouse to exit stage X I can see it screwing around on the ground, undecided in its next move!

And then, the flush! Straight at me as I empty both barrels to no good effect! A rookie mistake I know, I know.

One autumn evening in the early '90s, a hiking, canoeing, and camping friend phoned me to ask if I'd care to go hunting with him that weekend. I said 'Sure, but I ain't got a hunting arm of any stripe.' (I was a serious, dedicated target pistol shooter in those days, and that's what I spent my time and money on.) Friend replied, I've got a pair of 12-gauge shotguns- you can use whichever you like. The pair were a Remingchester pumper of some sort, and a Baikal side-by-side. Being an effete snob who drinks with his pinky extended, I naturally opted for the double. I'd never shot one before. Saturday morning, I showed up at his place, crack of doom, my small game license still smelling of wet ink, and we drove out of the city to a forested region maybe 45 minutes away. He had a friend who lived there, a serious ruffed grouse and woodcock hunter who was to be our guide, and the three of us set out on foot in mixed forest. Tall trees, not a lot of shrubbery, good visibility.

We marched around in an arrowhead formation for an hour, hoping something would flush, with only the "point man" having rounds up the spout. We'd swap positions every fifteen minutes or so. My turn to be the tip of the spear came around. I loaded the shotgun and put the safety catch on. We'd only advanced a few yards through a grove of hardwoods when something erupted off of the ground maybe twenty feet, dead-ahead of me, going up and away like a straight-ahead clay pigeon. Friend's friend shouted "Woodcock! Shoot!" Now, I was shooting a lot of ISSF rapid-fire pistol in those days, so my reflexes were fair, and I managed to shoulder and point the Baikal fairly briskly. The bird was still climbing and still fairly close when I pressed the trigger.

Nothing happened. Nothing happened because the modern target pistols of the day, the things I shot a few times per week, were not equipped with safety catches. Our host just shook his head and looked at me in mild disgust, then he looked at my friend. "I thought you said this guy knew how to shoot, Bruce!"

I wanted to fall down a hole. It turned out to be the only bird we flushed the entire morning.

Started my interest in side-by-sides, though.

(Great idea for a thread, Mister Hillis.)

That 400 acre WMA was my Dad’s favorite pheasant hunting spot, and I have been hunting it for 50 years or so, the last 15 without my Dad. Early on in the game, I just tagged along with dad, when I was 12 or 13, he started letting me carry his Beretta Silver Snipe. We were cutting across a field that had patches of red dogwood and bluestem, and some other type of grass that was difficult to walk through. About midway through, with maybe 100 yards between dad and me, and the dog working between us, I decided to take a leak. I was about halfway through when a rooster flushed right at the edge of the steamy spot I was creating on the ground. I watched him fly off without so much as a salute in his direction, so, not technically a miss, but, dad wanted to know when we met up why I hadn’t taken a poke at him.

I told him he wouldn’t believe me.

Later, sitting in his 1964 Ninety Eight Custom Sports Coupe (google it) having a sandwich and a cup of coffee while the 394 motor made some heat for us at idle, I did tell him, and we had a laugh.

He laughed longer than I did.

Best,
Ted

i cannot tell you how many times I have set my gun to the side to take a leak and had doves fly right over my head. Why can't I tell you? Because I cannot count that many times.

Best way to get ducks flying into the spread!