The first time I shot my Father's favorite shotgun (now also my favorite NON-DOUBLE-GUN) I was about 14, and we were out for ducks. I was used to the M12 pump, started with a 20 given to me when I was about 11- But his M12- a Tournament Grade 12 gauge- 30" Full with solid rib and solid red pad and fancier wood- Wow- I was in gunner's heaven you could say.
We were out in the Old Town canoe on an elbow point on Horseshoe Lake, mid-October, Saturday early morning (No Sunday Hunting in The Buckeye State except on Lake Erie back then) and there were many greenwing and bluewing teals locally, plus mallards and woodies too.
The eastern skies were blushing pink like a spinster schoolmarm who overhead a salacious remark I'd guess, a tad of windspit from behind us has just riffled the water, a few cork decoys (specie undetermined) were moving against the anchor line's tug- and Wheeveeee-Whoosh- a string of four greenwings came around the bend from behind us.
I had drawn the front position, and our rule was, whether floating a river or on the points of the lake, ONLY the bow placed hunter held the shotgun-- So my Father had given me first 'crack" at any Kamakazi-minded ducks- I swung that long barrel way ahead of the lead bird and crunched the trigger, BANG-Shuck- out came the red paper empty and down kersplash went the last teal in the string-
"Nice shot there, Son" was his comment as we got ready to paddle out and retrieve my first bird (of many to come later) with that "Money Gun"-- I never did tell him I was shooting for the lead bird, and he had the wisdom never to ask- So much for the old Samuel Langhorn Clemens comment about when he was 14 he thought his father wasn't very smart--
:d uck: