[mobirdhunter]

Our bird season, hunting from home, has been decent so far with coveys found, a few pheasants taken, and enough beautiful weather days between the miserable ones to make things memorable. That we are seeing progress in our puppy has made things extra special.

The other day we were exploring a new-to-us farm just on the Missouri/Iowa border. Starting the day I was using my "new" 128 year old Dickson round action 12 bore. I'd been using it with good results for most of the season, and had confidence in the gun. We got up a covey wild not far from the truck and they scattered into an old, overgrown milo field -- a perfect set-up. We started to find singles and I missed the first couple of shots...and then over the course of the next hour I missed seven times, taking only one bird over a great point -- an easy shot. I just could not hit anything! I even caught myself closing an eye and aiming, a sure recipe to failure. I just got flustered.

I decided to lick my wounds, so we went back to the truck, had lunch, and sat in the sun to rest for a while. The rest did my psyche good, and I decided to change guns for a fresh start, having brought along a Parker as a back-up gun for this outing. This particular gun, a 1918 DHE 20 gauge, has 30 inch barrels and is choked lightly (55%/65%) and set up to "shoot 6-8 inches high" by the man who ordered it. A little research revealed that the gent who was so specific about the the gun in his order (he even requested a larger than normal grip) was a Kentucky field trialer (a setter guy from what I have found so far). This gun was obviously set up for quail, and I felt a kindred spirit with the original owner of 100 years ago. If I could have special ordered a Parker, it would have been like this one.

Not all stories of shooting woes end well for me, but this was the exception. I went 4 for 4 during the afternoon of our hunt. I usually don't take more than a brace of quail anymore, but after the morning's disastrous shooting, and the fact we found three large coveys (and I wanted to get my puppy as much bird work as possible), I decided that several more birds might exorcize my shooting demons.

The dogs were happy, except for the poor girl that was witness to my earlier shooting, and I can't help but think that there was a long forgotten old bird hunter smiling at having his gun take some 21st Century (very) wild Bobs.