Stories
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
The third and final pause was when another friend Dickie, who had his own gun, and I went out in a field behind the gas station in town. A medium size bird few over on a cloudless Saturday afternoon, and Dickie shoots and hits it, and it falls fluttering in a spiral to the ground. We walked to within about 40 feet of it. It was wounded but not dead, sitting upright on its two legs but unable to fly. I says why don't you finish it off. So he aims the gun --- fires and misses !
The blast pattern of shot, passed just over the birds head. I went closer and saw the look in that birds eyes and that was it for me --- have never shot another thing since. All in all, I can remember shooting just one bird, about the size of a quail, although I don't remember what it was, leading the bird in flight like in all the sporting magazines and boom -- down it came landing in the channel.
My last hunting episode was with with Dickie but I didn't know it at the time, so maybe within a few weeks of the foregoing adventure someone decided that we should go squirrel hunting, early five-six AM, on a Saturday morning after a night of drinking without having gone home. There was Dickie, a guy that worked with him at the gas station, possibly also Christo although he wasn't going to hunt. It was a mad and wild night, and remember that Dickie probably shot at least two stop signs with his twelve gage. I got really drunk. We finally maybe around four-thirty in the morning, pulled up to this woods close to Mud Lake, which was about three miles south of town.
(3 of 8)
Next Page
