A couple of years ago, I took a buddy to hunt preserve birds (I know...) because he had never gunned for pheasants in his life. The first bird that loafed into the air was dropped by a shot from my Smith gun- using one of a handful of old Winchester paper shells I brought along for the occasion. Naturally, I had to take a whiff of the spent shell, which prompted my buddy to ask for a whiff too, so I tossed it over to him. As we were standing there smelling spent shotshells, another bird went up from between us. All we could do was look at each other and laugh at ourselves.