I love getting a limit of ducks.
Don’t get me wrong – I’m not going to cry if I go home with fewer than seven. Some days I just don’t get the chance to kill that many. Other days I couldn’t hit a decoy, much less a speeding teal. But seven feels like an affirmation of my skills, which still matters to me in my seventh season as a hunter.
Dog trainer extraordinaire Robert Milner wants to ask sportsmen a personal question: Would you discipline your own children with a shock collar?
They looked out of place in the rack – that pair of side-by-side shotgun barrels there amidst those belonging to single-barreled pumps and autoloaders, a bolt-action rifle or two, and a few “black guns” that I couldn’t identify.
As we enter a NEW YEAR, I remember a few years back, as a middle-aged adult, commenting to my dad about how fast time was passing. His response was, “Honey, you haven’t seen anything yet. When you get to be my age, time is avalanche speed!” Well, I’m not yet to the age Dad was then, but time around Joshua Creek Ranch seems to be accelerating more rapidly with each passing year.
For my first six seasons as a duck hunter, my hunting was limited by two things: no dog, and no boat.
No dog means I need to be really careful about where I drop my ducks, because I can’t count on a canine’s superior sense of small to help me get that duck if it falls in thick cover. I’m OK with that tradeoff because I have neither the time nor the money to invest in a well-trained dog.
There’s a state of mind that numbs you to hunting adventures, even though the drive is only two hours east. Planted in front of a computer for another 12-hour marathon, collapsing after dinner on the sofa in big-screen semi-consciousness watching fighters with shaved heads tattooed to the max sporting nick-names like “The Refrigerator,” “Meat Missile” and “Freak Show” square off in the MMA octagon to kick, elbow and pummel their opponent’s faces into bloody goo, it’s sublimely painless to slip into a rut barren of outdoor aspirations.
You undoubtedly already know the catchphrase “Beretta 500 Years, One Passion.” In distinguishing the world’s oldest industrial enterprise, Beretta’s message resonates with an antiquity only assigned to shotgun sports royalty.
John Sigler knows a thing or two about guns. As past president of the National Rifle Association, his opinion matters. So what did he think of the round-body, 20-gauge Excalibur from FAMARS di Abbiatico & Salvinelli?
If you’re a fan of disco, the shuttle ride from the airport in Seville, Spain to the historic Hotel Alfonso XIII in the heart of the city got an upbeat start as the gray-haired bus driver played the Pointer Sisters’ “I’m so Excited” on the radio.
Join an elite group of readers who receive their FREE e-letter every week from Shotgun Life. These readers gain a competitive advantage from the valuable advice delivered directly to their inbox. You'll discover ways to improve your shooting, learn about the best new products and how to easily maintain your shotgun so it's always reliable. If you strive to be a better shooter, then our FREE e-letters are for you.
Shotgun Life is the first online magazine devoted to the great people who participate in the shotgun sports.
Our goal is to provide you with the best coverage in wing and clays shooting. That includes places to shoot, ways to improve your shooting and the latest new products. Everything you need to know about the shotgun sports is a mouse-click away.
Irwin Greenstein
Publisher
Shotgun Life
PO Box 6423
Thomasville, GA 31758
Phone: 229-236-1632
