One autumn evening in the early '90s, a hiking, canoeing, and camping friend phoned me to ask if I'd care to go hunting with him that weekend. I said 'Sure, but I ain't got a hunting arm of any stripe.' (I was a serious, dedicated target pistol shooter in those days, and that's what I spent my time and money on.) Friend replied, I've got a pair of 12-gauge shotguns- you can use whichever you like. The pair were a Remingchester pumper of some sort, and a Baikal side-by-side. Being an effete snob who drinks with his pinky extended, I naturally opted for the double. I'd never shot one before. Saturday morning, I showed up at his place, crack of doom, my small game license still smelling of wet ink, and we drove out of the city to a forested region maybe 45 minutes away. He had a friend who lived there, a serious ruffed grouse and woodcock hunter who was to be our guide, and the three of us set out on foot in mixed forest. Tall trees, not a lot of shrubbery, good visibility.
We marched around in an arrowhead formation for an hour, hoping something would flush, with only the "point man" having rounds up the spout. We'd swap positions every fifteen minutes or so. My turn to be the tip of the spear came around. I loaded the shotgun and put the safety catch on. We'd only advanced a few yards through a grove of hardwoods when something erupted off of the ground maybe twenty feet, dead-ahead of me, going up and away like a straight-ahead clay pigeon. Friend's friend shouted "Woodcock! Shoot!" Now, I was shooting a lot of ISSF rapid-fire pistol in those days, so my reflexes were fair, and I managed to shoulder and point the Baikal fairly briskly. The bird was still climbing and still fairly close when I pressed the trigger.
Nothing happened. Nothing happened because the modern target pistols of the day, the things I shot a few times per week, were not equipped with safety catches. Our host just shook his head and looked at me in mild disgust, then he looked at my friend. "I thought you said this guy knew how to shoot, Bruce!"
I wanted to fall down a hole. It turned out to be the only bird we flushed the entire morning.
Started my interest in side-by-sides, though.
(Great idea for a thread, Mister Hillis.)
