One more duck.
That’s what I told myself Sunday afternoon as I crept through a patch of nut grass in the marsh, bent low over the water to minimize my outline, straining to keep an eye on the birds without them seeing me.
It is now December, and here in the Northeast where I live, December marks the beginning of winter. Winter can be a difficult time to be outside, and the added layers of clothing will change the geometry between you and your gun and can restrict your range of motion.
How does that saying go, “Necessity is the mother of invention?”
Well, when it comes to designing British sporting clothes for American women, it’s a mother and daughter who by necessity created a new line of shooting apparel.
Lyndall Bailye and daughter Stephanie recognized the need for stylish and traditional British clothes cut specifically for women after their own futile pursuits to find suitable selections here in the U.S.
 CABIN BLUFF |  DOVER FURNACE |  EKLAND SAFARIS |
 ESTANCIA LOS CHAÑARES |  GUAYASCATE LODGE |  HIGHLAND HILLS RANCH |
 JOSHUA CREEK RANCH |  PINE HILL PLANTATION |  SIERRA BRAVA LODGE |
 SIGNATURE LODGE |
Cigar smoke mingled with fragrances of autumn, marking the twenty-first annual weekend of convivial sporting-clays competitions in the mountains of Virginia by the exclusive Green Jacket Club.
Maybe I should’ve taken that shot.
As the morning chill dissipated, the sky brightened and even distant duck sightings grew more infrequent, it was becoming clear that Charlie and I were about to be skunked. On opening day, no less.
It is the end of a round of sporting clays. Scores are added up and the cards are either turned into a referee or tucked away, never to be looked at again. In either case, only the scores are looked at. All of the data points at each station are usually ignored.
The month of November strikes panic into the mind of this Shotgun Wife since it marks my last chance at planning and orchestrating a holiday season that might possibly be as relaxing and enjoyable for me as for my family and our guests. If I started right away, and devoted these next several weeks to conscientious organization and anticipation of the details of menus, decorations, entertaining, gift selections, etc., I could actually envision myself casually whistling “Deck the Halls” into a delightfully laid-back holiday season.
We showed up on time. Oh dark-30. Parked our car on a pull-off area on a mountain road in Kebler Pass, located in the Crested Butte area. The twins stepped out of their vehicle next to us – dressed in camo, do-rags and running shoes. The reflective tape on their shoes gleamed in the pre-dawn and I thought, “I’m in trouble here.” My hunting boots already felt heavy.
How about firing over 25,000 12-gauge shotgun shells as the testing grounds for two new shotguns? I have heard about gun companies that fire huge piles of shells as the introductory testing of new shotgun models, but I’m pretty sure such testing takes place in a figurative laboratory, i.e. the company’s testing facilities. But I was part of a five-shooter party that fired all those thousands of shells in a genuine hunting situation.
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