Let's go down Memory Lane - Who inspired us to treasure double guns, shooting sports
 

I'll kick this new thread off with a photo of my Dad who was my hero (he fought ALS for better than 10 years, who introduced me to upland bird hunting, bird dog training and the wonderful outdoors. My Dad is the one holding 'Skyrocket's RuffGrouse' at a Field Trial in Hooksett, N.H. circa 1949. May he rest in piece.

what a DAD to have memories of...allen you have been blessed... charlie

Where to begin - where to begin...

The inspiration was right outside my bedroom window in the cornfields and woods around my home in the very early 1950's. Pheasant hunters marching down our corn rows at daybreak - staccato sounds of gunshots all around and the sweet acrid smell of burnt powder filled the air. I watched them from my upstairs bedroom window at four years old as these sights, sounds and scents etched themselves into my memory.
Soon after this we learned that our neighbor, Larry Darling and his son Charlie, were upland hunters in every sense of the word and hunted over "Pepper", a white-heavily speckled with black English Pointer and a very good bird dog. They recognized my interest right away and took me and my Dad under wing and introduced us to hunting, fishing and trapping.

It was Larry that I brought the Trojan I borrowed from a school-mate when I was twelve to ask hin if the old thing was safe to shoot. "Safe to shoot!?!? - I'll say it is! Nobody ever made a better one!"

No bird hunter double gunner in my history

I started a story once about bird hunters being born not made, maybe i should finish that.

My mother told me that when I was a toddler I latched onto a calendar top that was a cartoon of a hunter eating his lunch being flipped off a fence rail by a spaniel chasing a pheasant between his legs, a double shotgun was leaning against the fence. I would sit on my grandparent's porch and watch their neighbor come back from the field with his brace of gordon setters.

I read anything about bird hunting in the big three hook and bullet magazines that my uncle got each month. Dad was a rabbit hunter, i started going afield with him when I was 8, every time we flushed a grouse I would stand there with my mouth open (still do) and watch it fly.

Got my first double after college and my first bird dog not long after that.

Now i have a few doubles and a brace of Old Hemlock Setters.

I received my very first shotgun when I was 12 years old. It was a single shot Monkey Wards Westernfield Model 100SB in 20 gauge. I believe they were made by Savage.

As for SxS shotguns....I spent about seven weeks at Lackland AFB in 1998, attending the AF/Navy Law Enforcement School. I saw a copy of the DGJ at the exchange, purchased it, and soon began buying SxS shotguns. There was a Ruger Red Label 28 in there someplace. I quickly lost interest and it found its way to Puglisi's shop. At present, I have three Parker 10s, a mint Husqvarna 20B Lefaucheaux 12 made in the 1950s, and a .410 on order from Mark DeHaan. My 'beater' is an 1898 vintage Marlin repeater.

I guess I would have to give credit to my Dad (who will be 94 this year and still hunting and shooting). He had a few shotguns so when I started hunting I was about 12. It was for rabbits and squirrels and it was with a Rem. M58 auto which had everything backwards. It was a right handed gun and I was a lefty. Damn safety was a pain to get off but shooting bunnies and squirrels gave me plenty of time. Then one day we flushed a covey of quail and I knew then that that was the game animal of choice for me. My Dad had (I still have it) a Trojan 12, 28" M/F with the safety where it should. For years he would tell me it was too valuable to hunt with and I remember asking him "why do you have it". The next weekend I was tromping through the woods in search of Mr. Bob, no dog and killer tight chokes. What did I know. That was it, I was hooked on a double and bird hunting. Thanks Pop.

This is a picture of my dad hunting, sometime around 1920. He started taking me hunting with him and one of our beagle dogs when I was nine. We would walk across the street, load the gun and start kicking rabbits, and on occasion a rare pheasant, out of their cover. When we were away from "eyes" he would allow me to carry the gun, a single shot Iver Johnson .410. I shot my first rabbit at age nine. When I was twelve I could hunt beside him and his 16ga Winchester Model 12.

Our neighbor became my adopted grandfather, he had a wonderful 16ga Parker GHE. Everyone admired that Parker but it was far to expensive for any in my family. After I was discharged from the Navy in 1970, my adopted grandfather passed away and to my surprise he left his Parker to me. I have collected other Parker shotguns since then but that 16ga GHE is by far my most prized Parker. I hunt with it every year and enjoy walking in the field holding it even if I don't see any game. I would love to have the Iver Johnson .410 but it was stolen from our home while I was away in the Navy.

That's quite a passle of rabbits. I like rabbit a lot and would be happy to have rabbit on my menu on a regular basis. Thanks Robin.

Great story Robin and super picture of your Dad. It's wonderful to have these memories. It's one thing our Dear Leader can't take away from us.

My first shotgun at 13, an H&R Topper SBT (Single Barrel Twenty). I had a Daisy, of course, and a Crosman .22 before that; and, the supervised (accompanied) use of my Dad's .22 Win and his Mod. 11 12ga. Still have the Topper. My brother has the .22 and the 11.

Gents, this thread thread is about 'who' inspired us, not what gun inspired us.

:)I was inspired by my uncle who just turned 75. He started taking me quail hunting with him when i was about 10 or 11 years old. He was a true "dog man" in every sense of the word. He raised and trained English Pointers that were the envy of everyone who ever saw them hunt. Birds were everywhere and just about anyone would let you hunt. He shot an old Remington 870 Wingmaster 20 gauge with the last 2 inches of the barrel blown off. He let me use my Grandad's Remington model 11-48 28 gauge. I grew up believing those days would last forever.
My first encounter with a SxS was when I was 15. When I would come home from school the bus would pass a county land fill. I noticed crows flocking there in the mornings in great abundance. I told my uncle I wanted to hunt crows and could I use the 28. He said I needed more gun and suggested I find a 12 gauge. We never used or owned anything bigger than a 20 because he said it wasn't sporting to hunt with. I asked a buddy if he had a 12 gauge I could borrow and he brought me an old Stevens model 235 "rabbit ear" gun in 12 gauge. He also let me borrow his crow call and stuffed owl decoy. That summer I would be out on the road with the gun, uncased, the owl and a box of hulls hitch hiking to the dump. I shot a lot of crows and fell in love with the old gun. At the end of the summer I had to give it back but I was hooked. Old rabbit ear guns are still my fav

My Dad got me started. Once I was able to walk, I was following along. I'm talking pre-school age. Hunting became as natural for me as breathing. Until I left home (21) we chased everything together. All the big game and game birds that Alberta had to offer. Did annual crow and mapie hunts with the F&G Ass'n. Dad had a VH and I spent a lot of kid time examining the DHBP wondering about a gun that had my dog Snippy's head on it. I would read the inscription on the rib and was certainly the only kid on the block that ever heard of Meriden Conn. Dad gave me that gun when I was in my 30s. Here is one pic of Dad with 145522 (back when it still had 32" barrels) Birds are sage grouse. He was instrumental in having the province offer a season for these birds. No longer offered these days. Dad passed in 2004. I'm still hunting but sold off most the rifles now and concentrate on upland birds only.

http://www.shotgunworld.com/bbs/cpg1..._Grouse001.jpg

Jack, I hope you have that photo framed and on your wall at home.

great picture of your dad jack... boy at the memories our dad s gave us... charlie

YUP. my dad too, he got me into duck hunting early. when i was to young to go i would sit by the front window to wait for my dad and older brother to come home from duck hunting so I could bring the ducks in the house for them. Than at 12 years old i got to go hunting with him.I didn't shoot any ducks but i was hooked. I got to use his NID Ithaca 12 ga, 26 in gun . Than on a oct day in 1973 at 13 years old it happed, at a beaver pond behind where i live now i shot my 1st duck ,a hen woody! You could not have pull that duck out of my hand if you wanted to.I carried that duck for the full mile walk out of the woods and couldn't wait to show my mother what i had shot.It just so happened that she was looking out the same window i use to look out and to see me this time getting out of the car with my duck, thanks DAD,:) scottI

I believe I was born into this life of guns and hunting from my maternal Grandfather who I never had the privledge to meet as he died early in the year I was born. Grandpa shot trap with a Parker and hunted birds over a pair of English Setters. I MUST give credit to both of my parents as they recognized my passion and introduced me to their friends who showed me the ropes. Mr. Wid McCready got me started shooting skeet with a M12 28ga and Mr. Vic Calderone took me on my first deer hunt. I also read everything I could that pertained to guns and hunting. It has been a wonderfull journey so far and I hope it continues.

Great stuff guys. For me, it was my Dad. He hunted long before I came along and started with the neighborhood guys as a teen. His passion for the outdoors was complete. Upland and waterfowl,big game and freshwater, saltwater and deep sea fishing were all part of his relaxation along with horses, both racing, breeding and pleasure. My first experience with hunting came about the age of six when we all went duck hunting in Staten Island,NY. For those who are not familiar, It is in NYC and in 1958, you could hunt in Richmond Cty.[Staten Island] but if you discharged a firearm, it was a $5 fine. The old man and friends thought it was five dollars well spent if you got caught. After that, providing my marks in school were up to dad's standard, Grouse in the Catskill mtns, pheasants in Dutchess Cty. and rabbits in southern NJ and Staten Island.
First gun was a Marlin model 100 in 22rf gotten from a friend by dad for me I was 7. Then came a Sears 410 ss bolt at 8 At 10 was an Ithaca 66 in 20ga. and at 12 came a Savage Fox modelB in 20. ga. After that, I bought my own with permission of course and always liked the classic guns, SxSs and single shot rem EB Win leverguns and highwalls. As a southpaw, bolt guns were uncomfortable to me and learned to shoot with either hand. Dad did so too as to not pass up a shot. I have his Parker GHE he bought at an estate sale in 1951 and never fired because he didn't want it to lose value. We hunted together every year until 2001 and he passed in 2003 at 89. He took all the kid who were interested in either hunting or horses and gave them the same opportunities as he die me. All guns were passed down to friends as needed and still enjoy use today. My first gun, the Marlin 22 went to the great nephew of the man who gave it to Dad for me. Than was 12 years ago on Tommys 8th birthday. It still looks new and is cherished as he told me that it will go to his first child. Just imagime the ruckous it would cause today, to see a 10 year old riding a horse down a main street with a SxS and hounds following him. I miss those days and the Old man. And the GHE was shot for the first time since in at least 53 years at pheasants in 2004. I'd like to think Dad enjoyed seeing that.

My father in law gave me his father's PHE 12 gauge, an LC Smith 16 gauge, an English/Belgian 10 gauge hammer gun that belonged to my Great Uncle and other guns too numerous to list. A great guy.

It was my father and grandfather that got me started. They'd been big quail hunters and raised dogs all through the 50's and 60's but by the time I got old enough to come along the wild quail had already started to disappear. I cut my teeth on doves and squirrels with Dad, then rabbit hunting with Grandpa and the cousins. My cousin Mark Hoffard was a teacher at my school and took me on my first real rabbit hunt with his pack of beagles.

I was content with all this till I started reading about duck and goose hunting. Dad had always kept a goose pit rented near the Crab Orchard Wildlife Refuge but by the time I was old enough the price of rental had gotten so high he'd given it up. My best friends father, Kenny Clements, took me under his wing and got me started waterfowling. He had permission on a private little goose paradise the whole time we were in high school and I was always welcome. His son Wade and I also started making our own trips to the various public duck hunting areas around Southern Illinois trying to learn the ropes. We lost the little spot about the time I turned 18 but by then I was hooked and badly.

I met my good friend Dave French our first day of college and we both saw something in one another that neither of us had. A waterfowling partner that was serious about it and willing to work hard to get shooting. We hunted together steady till he moved to Canada in our mid 20's. By that time we were both goose hunting guides and had settled into a passion we knew would last all our lives.

Once Dave left the area and I was out a steady partner, Dad got interested in waterfowling again and we started hunting together. He came to enjoy it more than he had before and it became his passion as well. He and I have been lucky to have a good friend who has a private farm he allows us to gun on whenever we're able.

I've traveled to a lot of places to shoot ducks and geese but those early goose hunts with the Clements family, traveling to central Illinois to gun the opening days there with Dave French, and in later years duck shooting with my father are my fondest memories of all.


DLH

For me it was my good friend Jim. He is much older than me and always has been a father figure to me as my father was very sick and passed away far too young. Jim is an avid hunter, he has put it all down, waterfowl,deer, upland, rabbits, you name it. I started pheasant hunting with him when I was 25 or so and I was kind of like his second or sometimes third bird dog when in the field. Jim can get around real well so it seemed like when he let his shorthairs out they would run with me in the deep cover. Jim also breeds world class shorthairs and has several on the trials scene. I started out very reserved as the group of guys that I hunted with were great shots! me...not so much back then and not so sure now. I have great days where I cant miss and others that seem like my gun is bent. I have a lot of respect for him and the group that brought me in as they always put the "new" guy in for the point. The helped me set up and follow through. I have shot a lot of birds with that man and I am honored to know him and walk through the woods with him. He is in his 80s now and im not sure how many years he will keep it up but i sure hope its plenty more. He helped me train my labs to be calm and steady in the woods and people cant believe how well my female works with me. She was a natural. Since the i am not the "new " guy and it is wonderful to watch the progression of a new hunter. Its intersting to think back on how much of an impact one person can make on your life

Thanks Allen for starting this thread, it may be the best one every on this forum! Great reading guys, keep them coming, very entertaining!

My Dad was not a double gun guy (I'm still shooting his M31 Remmie as my go-to duck gun). This picture is of Dad and I at the first duck blind I was in - Miller's Island on the Chester River in Maryland. Probably about 1955. I sure do like duck shooting!

For it was my older brother,my Dad loved to hunt big game and the barrens for Ptarmigan but work kept him from it until I was well into my twenty's.

My older brother Tommy was an avid hunter and fisherman it seems to me back then it was all he did ,during the winter month's he was daylight to dark checking rabbit slips with as many as 200 out to check on foot!,If anyone in town wanted to know where the big fish hung out or where to get a brace of birds or rabbits he was the man,he always had old Field and stream mags around and I read those cover to cover as a kid before I was big enough to tag along,the first time he took me on the barrens I was about 15 and was carrying an old H&R single 12 and two boxs of shells,I fired every damn one and never drawed a feather !!! he had a limit of course and I complained so much about the walking he swore to never take me again...next Friday my legs were loose again and the blisters were healed up so I was on my knees begging to go again,and so he took me again, and again I missed every shot and complained like a little girl at the end of the day , we went through that routine until I finally hardened to the country ,started to drop birds and eventually I out-walked him.

The passion he had for the country back then was something I wanted so bad
but my juvenile mind just couldn't comprehend....Although today,he rarely has time for the country, his life just got too complicated,but he instilled his passion for the outdoors in me and now I have that same feeling,some of my best times were in the woods with him and Dad (after he retired ) we built cabins in the wilderness,we set rabbit snares and cast for trout and laughed at everything from firing a missed shot to a fart.

I hope someday my two little ones (the only grand kids in out family ) will develop that same passion that was passed down to us .

Great thread guys

My father started it all for me. He loved to hunt pheasants which were quite plentiful at the time in south central PA. His gun of choice was an old Winchester pump. That beast had a 30" barrel with a full choke. When I was quite young, I would make him tell me every detail of every hunt when he came home from the fields.

When I was about 8, my mother's uncle came to live with us. He hunted grouse and turkeys, which my father didn't. And he was a SxS man to boot! He had several, but two of them had my youthful attention. One was a Fox B grade 20. This little gun had a straight stock, splinter and 26" barrels. I never saw my GreatUncle Kenny ever take it out. When I asked him why, he noted that it "stung a bit too much to shoot". It was a light gun, right around 5 3/4 lbs. His grouse gun of choice was a rather beat up Parker Trojan 20. I dreamed of being able to accompany both my father and my great uncle on their hunting days.

My father eventually allowed me to tag along in his walks through the fields behind our home. We didn't have a dog, and as I recall, I was usually relegated to performing that function around some of the thick brush. What a blast to kick up a cock pheasant and watch my father send feathers flying with that old pump gun.

My great uncle soon allowed me to walk along (mostly behind him) when he grouse hunted. There was something about that sweet little Parker double and he was quite deadly with it on grouse. Of course, he knew how much I admired the little Fox that he never shot. He told me he almost traded it quite a few times, but had owned it so long, he couldn't bring himself to get rid of it. He would soon let me handle it. I was amazed at how light it was. And it actually came close to fitting me. The Fox had a hard buttplate and the LOP was right at or just a hair under 14". My great uncle was a tall lanky fellow, so I'm sure that it was a bit short for him, even with a hunting coat.

When I turned 12 and was able to hunt when accompanied by another hunter, my great uncle gave me the little Fox. I admit, I was pretty tough on the pheasants with it, but grouse were another story! It would take quite a bit more experience before I presented much danger to grouse!

I have very fond memories of that little Fox and certainly regret ever trading it. I traded it and cash for a beautiful little Churchill O/U......that I couldn't hit squat with!

what a wonderful story Tony. Thanks. I went to grad school at Penn State in central Pa. This was during the days when Franco Harris and Lydel Mitchell were seniors. I never went to a football game choosing instead to go grouse hunting in the Black Shannon (I think?) mountains every Saturday. Lots of memories.

Thanks Allen. I'm a Penn State guy myself. I try to get over to that part of PA every couple of years in early to mid May. I use the excuse that I'm flyfishing, but in reality, I'm looking for morels!

Allen: It's Black Moshannon State Park. A friend of my dad was taking me deer hunting one day (when I was a teen), but the snow was so bad we had to turn back.

I would love to go there some day - it sure sounds like nice country...

John, you're right, it was the Black Moshannon. There were other areas I bird hunted outside of State College. I had a Graduate Assistanship then while in grad school and we lived in an apt in one of the dorms. couldn't have a dog so I had to walk up my grouse. I learned early that when hunting grouse without a dog I could 'quarter' though the coverts and put up more birds than by just walking a more or less straight line though the wods. I became my own bird dog! Grouse hunting was good there.