The shooting is almost non-stop, as the 20 some-odd guns on the field all have their play at the droves of doves strafing the field, like so many miniature grey fighter jets. We see birds fall, then Grandaddy shoots again. Once. I see him walking out to retrieve the bird, and as I look back I have birds approaching, splitting the distance between my brother and I. We both have at them. I knock one down, and he does, too. The remainder of that drove cut wildly towards Grandad, who knocks down another................ No, two. One with each barrel. He walks deliberately to the second one first, picks up, then goes straight to the first one. I remember something else he taught me very early about marking birds down. If you make a mental effort to identify the spot the bird fell by lining it up with a distant tree or other landscape feature, and estimate the distance, you can nearly always find it. But, how he does so with a double baffles me. He never seems to lose a bird.
The time passes quickly, and it is after 4:30, but birds are still flying, though sporadically now. I've shot way too many shells, my brother Lane has, too. We've both got a nice little pile of birds, but I haven't counted yet. Grandaddy says you shouldn't count your birds or shells until you think you may have near a limit. He says it gets you to thinking too much about how many shells you've used, and you won't shoot as well. Kinda like playing poker, he says. You never count your money when you're playing. You play the cards you're dealt, without regard to how much you have left to bet. Makes sense, though I've never played poker. Most things he says makes sense.......like "In dove shooting, as in poker, patience is the key".
I shoot a dove that is really too far, but wing him and he falls far beyond Grandaddy. He doesn't see it because his back is to me, or he would have shot him again for me, but I walk right past him as I go to look for it. Grandaddy smiles as I pass, and says "Holler if you can't find him, I marked him down". I find it though, and remind myself I got lucky that time, and that I need to not shoot at those long birds.
As I walk past his stand, returning to mine, I notice that there are no empty hulls on the ground around him. Hmmm, he never picks up hulls until after he gets his limit. Wonder why he is picking them up today? Lane kills another, then another, then another. He's getting to be "medicina muy mala" with that 20 ga. pump. I may be low man in our trio today if I don't "tighten up".
Grandaddy really begins to shoot more now. The birds seem to be coming directly to him over that big hedgerow. Wonder if he knew this would happen? He is holding forth today as I've never seen him. I am mesmerized by the smoothness, the unhurried manner in which he mounts his gun and tracks the doves. As he shoots, it seems that he continues to swing the gun even after the dove folds and begins to fall. I just realize that I have not seen him miss all afternoon. Surely he has......... As I watch, he is approached by a pair of doves, not flying at full speed, but straight to him. He mounts slowly, kills the first one way out, then immediately engages the second bird and I see a puff of grey feathers as the shot hits. It falls toward Grandaddy and as he watches it he puts out his hand and ....... he catches the bird in mid-air! Just like a pitcher would mitt a "pop-up" by the batter. He drops the bird into his bag and strides dutifully out to retrieve the first bird of the pair. That was so cool! He doesn't even look around to see if anybody was watching. And I remember yet another saying of his - "The best dove shooter is not always the best shot on the field, but he is the most disciplined".
Last installment to come.....
SRH
Last edited by Stan; 08/01/18 06:40 PM.
