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It is 92 degrees with high humidity, but there is a nice steady breeze out of the southwest and big clouds that, mercifully, cast periodic shade across the big sunflower field. Grandpa is on his swivel seat with a wide brimmed straw hat on his head that allows the breeze to pass through and evaporate the sweat, and with a comfortable headband that keeps most of it out of his eyes. This is the beginning of his 58th dove season. He began shooting with his Grandaddy when he was 8, he once told me. On that first shoot he had carried a .410 double and ................. (smile) he is carrying a .410 double today. According to what his friends have told me, he has used just about every gauge and type of shotgun there is on doves, and now ............. he is back where he started. A limit is a limit he says, and if a man has more fun taking a limit with what most men call a kid's gun, well he darn well should do so.

Grandpa wears sunglasses everyday, aviators. He's been a farmer his whole life, and knows the value of protecting the eyes during long days in the bright sun. But, he doesn't wear them shooting doves. When I asked him why he said "Two reasons, son. One, the reflection of the sun off a pair of shades will turn a dove half a mile away. And two, I've never found a pair that didn't kind of fade the gray of a dove into the blue/gray of a late afternoon sky". So, he squints.

My brother and I are sitting out in front of him aways, maybe 60 yards, and about that same distance from each other. We know he sits behind us because he still wants to watch us closely, and that's alright. He taught us both to be very careful on a dove field, and we know that we will get a harsh yelling at if we shoot at too low a bird. But, he says the reason is because he just enjoys watching us shoot.

To be continued....................

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SRH

The guys I hunt with like to watch, too, taking a shot now and then to let others know there's someone alive in the blind. For me, it's the dog and enjoying good company.

I look forward to the next installment.

Few memories are stronger for me than taking both my father dove hunting at age 90 and my two youngest sons at the same time. I had a field buzzing with birds. Father sat watching birds for half an hour. I did not know if he was going to shoot. Then he went and cut four weeds which he placed as distance markers. Once seated again he started shooting one bird after another until he had his limit is less than a box of shells. All with a 16 ga. Fox I lent him.

My boys and I were and lucky to see him, one last hunt. He no longer hunts. As a kid my father worked too much to hunt much. I heard stories as a boy that he could kill two birds on a covey rise and he could hit a duck at extreme range. I once watched him shooting pigeons, flying into a barn. He hit them almost every shot and I missed almost every shot. Had to ask him how far he was leading them. He said start out at ten feet and go from there. Ten feet it was. He taught me it was the hunt, not the shooting or bag that mattered. You kill it, you recover it and eat it. I still consider a great dove season one which I recover every single bird. And leave a few birds for next time, so there will be a next time.

The heat must've e'flicted his brain...

You're a blessed man, Stan. Keep the stories coming.

Nice. Thanks for sharing that, you guys. I never had the good fortune to hunt with my grandfathers. But I do ponder what fun it would have been. One was a great duck hunter, mostly on the Mississippi flyway. I do have one of his guns, a Model 21 Winchester which I covet. I know that's as close as I'll ever get to him on this earth. Gil

I know that man...
JR

Stan I hear you.Bobby

The doves begin to come in, singles mostly, wanting to feed. Every now and then we hear a shot, mostly on the other end of the field, as there are not many birds on our end. Grandpa chose this end of the field when I first came with him, at age 8, eight years ago. There is a really big, thick hedgerow on our end that the doves can't fly through, but have to fly over. I notice Grandpa is looking in that direction a good bit of the time.

It's now 3:30, and it clouds up a bit and I remember something that happened here several years ago. It was Grandpa and me, my brother wasn't here that day, and we were shooting regularly when a rain shower came up from the southwest. We beat it to the truck, because it got pretty hard for a while. After about 30 minutes in the truck Grandpa said to me "See that clear sky below the clouds to the southwest?" I said I did. He said "In a little while that will be here and the rain will be over, and you are going to see a sight you've never seen before". I asked what that was. He said "Every dove in this part of the country will pour into this field at the same time, and you will have the fastest shooting you've ever imagined. Get ready, 'cause we're going to have some fun". Wow!, was he right. When the rain stopped we went back out to our stands, and in about 20 minutes we were literally covered up with doves, for the next hour or more. The birds seemed frantic to get in there and feed, like they were starving to death.

We've developed a kind of plan where each of us covers a portion of the sky looking for incomers, and depend on the other two to give a "heads up" if there are incomers from that way. No one has said a word, but my brother throws up and fires. I look quickly and see a dove tumbling out of the sky, as I simultaneously hear the sound of his pumpgun shucking. Then, when I look back on the other side of me there are three incomers right on top of me. I jump to my feet, throw up and trigger the gun, but no dice. They have beat me, and I never caught up with them. I'm "in the hole" already. But, I think, the afternoon is young.

The action begins in earnest. Doves are coming from all directions, shots are heard from many stands, and the excitement builds. We are all shooting regularly now, hitting and missing. Missing, mostly when a big drove of 6 to 10 come barreling in over that hedgerow at the speed limit, cutting and jiving in acrobatic maneuvers. Opening day + the first big flurry = poor shooting. Everyone is excited, and abandon basic shooting fundamentals, shooting off balance and letting fast incomers "screw them into the ground". Shouts of frustration are heard from nearby standers.

Grandpa is sitting very still on his seat................waiting, for what I do not know. Why isn't he shooting? Birds seem to be in range of him and he doesn't even raise his gun. I don't understand. I and my brother continue to shoot, a lot, and kill a dove occasionally. Grandpa just sits, and looks, and waits................. . What is he waiting for? It looks like he has passed up several shots that he could have ordinarily taken easily.

Then, I hear a shot, look quickly his way and see a dove falling straight towards me. If hits the ground no more than 5 steps away. Grandpa says "Grab that bird for me, buddy". He gets up and starts toward me, I retrieve his bird and toss it to him. "Thank you kindly" he says with a wink.

A huge bank of cumulus clouds block the sun and it feels as if the temperature drops 10 degrees. No sooner than I notice that I hear a distant yell, "Coming from the branch!". As my eyes focus toward that distant treeline I begin to see droves of doves in the sky moving our way. I yell to my brother "Get ready!".

More to come.......

SRH

Stan,
This makes an absolutely great read! Keep it coming.
Karl