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.
