First day Sept 16th 1952 (first day I was old enough to have a license and carry my own gun) prowling the dusty back country roads of Bonneville Co. Idaho for doves. Dad was pretty much a pot hunter so the method wasn't very sporting as he did it. Line up as many doves on the roadside barbed wire as possible, take a slight angle on the fence line and kill as many with one shot as the pattern would allow. But I slipped away behind some cottonwood trees and took a couple of birds on the rise from a field and from passing - I wanted to shoot them flying, not like chickens sitting on a roost. Dad chastised me a bit about wasting shells for so little to eat, but I bought my own shells and ignored him. We came from different circumstances thanks to his providing for us, unlike his youth in the Great Depression when another meal wasn't assured.
